“I think food can be the start of something better,” he said. “You give me an hour, I’ll give you the best meal you’ve ever had.”
I hesitated. This wasn’t forgiveness. It wasn’t trust. But it was a crack in the door—a way to see if the man standing in front of me had something real to offer beyond apologies and charm.
“One chance,” I said firmly. “This doesn’t mean we’re good. This means I’m willing to see if you mean what you’re saying.”
He lit up, the tension in his shoulders melting just slightly. “You won’t regret it.”
“I better not,” I replied, already mentally kicking myself just a little.
He took a slow step back. “Eight o’clock?”
“Text me the address.”
As he turned and walked away, I leaned against the brick wall, pressing my hands to my face.
What the hell was I doing?
I’d been warned by Logan about Miles, and yet here I was, agreeing to give him a second chance. I felt guilty for not taking his advice, but I also needed to trust myself and make decisions on my own. If this blew up in my face, I knew I’d have to pick up the pieces.
17
ELLIE
Two knocks were all it took before Miles opened the door. He was staying in a charming little Cape Cod nestled just a few blocks from town—white siding, bright red shutters, and a matching front door that looked freshly painted.
Whether he owned the place or was just renting it, I didn’t know. Either way, it was pretty. The landscaping was impeccable, with flower beds in full bloom, a variety of colors spilling across the walkway. I couldn’t help admiring it.
“Hi there,” Miles greeted with an easy, charming smile.
“Hi,” I replied, offering a polite one back.
He stepped aside to let me in, our arms brushing as I passed, and my stomach felt hollow. The scent of him hit me immediately—a blend of teakwood and crisp linen.
The interior echoed the same scent. Comfortable, minimal, with a masculine touch that didn’t try too hard. After he asked me to come over, I’d spent the rest of the day going back and forth with myself. Part of me wanted to cancel, to avoid what could easily become another awkward encounter. But the other part knew I needed to do this. Not to rekindle anything, but toset the record straight. I didn’t want to continue seeing Miles romantically.
Coming back home was supposed to be a fresh start for me—the start of me becoming more aware, more in tune with myself, and standing up for what I wanted.
While I’d thought, for a fleeting moment, that maybe I could overlook what happened at the bar, I knew deep down that I couldn’t. That wasn’t something I could file away or pretend hadn’t shifted something inside me.
The night in the limo had made me uncomfortable, sure. But the bar? That had left an impression. One I wasn’t sure I could get past.
I’d thought about giving him another chance when he apologized in the alley. But when we parted ways, I had time to think.
There was a tough coil in my stomach every time I thought about giving him another chance. My gut was telling me to end it.
Miles and I would be working right next door to each other, and I couldn’t afford for things to be tense every time I stepped outside the shop. I needed to make a choice and let him know now.
“You can put your purse on the entry table,” Miles said as he shut the door behind me. “And if you don’t mind, shoes off in the tray.”
I glanced down. A row of perfectly aligned shoes sat in a circular plastic tray.
Ashoe tray?
All right then. His house, his rules.
I slipped my shoes off and set them beside his, placing my purse where he pointed. Then I followed him through the cozy living room and into a warm, inviting kitchen. The cabinetswere a worn cream color, almost antique, and the butcher block countertops gave the whole room a rustic farmhouse vibe.
“It smells amazing,” I said with a small laugh, stepping up to the island in the center of the kitchen. I leaned forward slightly, resting my hands on the counter as he moved to the oven.
