On The Same Page Ch. 11

Note: Thank you all for staying with the story and for the feedback! Its been an absolute blast and I am excited to release the next chapter! I have no intention of stopping any time soon! Thank you all for making me enjoy being a writer again! As always, your constructive feedback is welcome and encouraged! I hope you enjoy the coming chapters!

Chapter 11: Skeletons

Robbie's POV

It had been years since I had stepped on the mat with anyone else. I had never stepped out as a coach. Yet here I was. I had made the decision to coach, I felt it was right, I felt the draw to it. Yet, as I sat there in a room full of students warming up for the first day of practice, I got my share of sideways glances from some of the students trying to figure out who I was and what I was doing there. I looked down at my knee, ran my fingers over the substantial scars, reminders of what happened to get me here.

It used to be easy to get mad about it, obviously. Then I started getting bitter about it. Now, it's hard for me to be angry or bitter when it led me where it did. I occasionally get angry about what I lost, I get bitter about my competitive career being taken from me instead of me getting to put it down. When I really think about it though, I gained so much more. If I hadn't lost wrestling, I wasn't sure what I would've been doing. I was going to school for journalism but that was never something I was passionate about, it was just something to do.

Where I ended up though, having the house, the job, a fiancée I loved, this extended family I had built. That seemed more fulfilling. The accident was the catalyst for me to realize it, I suppose. The first time I got out on the mat, I would love to say it was a picturesque beautiful moment that was filled with pure joy, but it wasn't. While your body develops a kind of muscle memory for the moves and motions, if you sit on the shelf long enough, your body wants to object when you start doing it again. I felt slow, I felt rusty, I felt sore. It was beyond frustrating to have to go so slow with something you'd done as easy as breathing before. I couldn't show it either because there were student athletes there I had to coach and be a role model for.

When I came home that day Kat was, as ever, the epitome of a supportive fiancée. I remember the look on her face when I limped in that first day of practice. She immediately went to concerned and worried.

"Oh my god, baby! Are you ok?" She asked.

"Yeah," I said as I kicked off my shoes. "I'm fine."

"You're limping."

"I'm sore."

Her eyes immediately dropped to my knee.

"It's not my knee."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, babe. I'm sure."

She still looked concerned as she walked over to me.

"Then what hurts?"

I laughed without much humor.

"Don't worry, it's only my.... Everything. My everything hurts."

Her expression softened a little.

"First practice aches?"

"God, I hope so."

"How was it? The practice, I mean."

I hesitated. That was apparently enough of an answer.

"That bad?"

"No. I don't know." I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. "It was... frustrating."

Kat took my hand and led me over to the couch. I dropped down beside her before laying down with my head in her lap.

"I felt fucking slow, Kat."

"You haven't wrestled in years."

"Oh, believe me, I am very aware."

"Then why are you surprised?"

"Because I know how to fucking wrestle."

"I didn't say you didn't."

"Today, it almost didn't feel like it."

She stayed quiet and let me continue.

"My brain knew exactly what I was supposed to do. My body just wouldn't fucking do it the way I wanted it to. Everything felt slow. My timing was off. Shit I used to be able to do without even thinking about it suddenly took thought and effort."

I looked down at my knee.

"And I couldn't stop thinking about how easy all of it used to be."

Kat ran her fingers through my hair.

"Baby, when it was easy, how often were you wrestling?"

"Every day for hours on end."

"Exactly."

"That's different."

"How?"

"Because I was competing."

"I know. But you were also training every day. You were lifting. Practicing. Competing. Your entire life was built around keeping your body capable of doing those things."

I sighed.

"I know."

"And now you teach English."

I looked up at her.

"Thank you for that unhelpfully accurate reminder."

She didn't laugh. Instead, she leaned down and kissed me on the forehead.

"I'm serious, Robbie. You're asking your body to do something it hasn't done in years and then getting pissed off at it because it didn't immediately perform how a Division I college wrestler's body should. You have to remember you're not a D1 college wrestler anymore. You're a former D1 college wrestler."

When she put it like that, it sounded fucking stupid.

"I just thought it would feel different."

"How?"

"I don't know."

I stared toward the other side of the room.

"Like coming home, I guess."

Kat was quiet for a moment.

"Maybe it will."

I looked at her.

"But?"

"But maybe you have to actually give yourself time to come home."

That shut me up. She reached over and gently ran her fingers along my cheek.

"It was one day, baby."

"I know."

"No, you know that up here." She tapped her finger lightly against my forehead. "I'm not sure you know it everywhere else yet."

I leaned into her hand.

"What if I can't do it?"

"What? Wrestle?"

"Coach."

Her eyebrows pulled together.

"What happened today that makes you think you can't coach?"

I opened my mouth, then stopped. Nothing, really. That was the problem.

"I couldn't demonstrate things the way I wanted."

"That doesn't mean you don't know how to teach them."

"I guess."

"You've spent years learning how to take something you understand and help somebody else understand it. That's literally your job."

"English is a little different from wrestling."

"Of course it is. But you know wrestling, and you know how to teach. Give yourself a chance to figure out how those two things fit together."

I looked at her for a few seconds. She smiled softly.

"You don't have to be the wrestler you were to be a good coach, Robbie."

That one landed. I looked back down at the scars across my knee.

"What if being there just makes me miss it?"

"That's not an if. You are going to miss it."

I looked at her again.

"That's allowed."

She put her hand back on my cheek.

"You loved wrestling. You lost it in a way you never got to choose. I don't expect you to walk back onto a mat for the first time in years and suddenly be completely okay with everything that happened."

Her thumb moved slowly over my cheek.

"But I also don't think you should decide after one practice that this can't be something good just because the first day hurt."

I smiled slightly.

"When did you get so fucking insightful and shit?"

"I've always been insightful and shit. You were too busy staring at my ass to notice."

That wasn't entirely true.

I laughed and leaned into her hand.

"Maybe."

"Definitely."

She kissed my forehead and then kissed my lips.

"I really wanted to love it today."

"I know."

"I wanted to step onto that mat and just... feel it again."

Kat tilted her head and looked at me.

"Then go back tomorrow."

I smiled.

"That simple?"

"For now? Yeah."

She kissed me softly.

"Go back tomorrow. And then go back the day after that. Stop expecting yourself to know how you feel about the rest of your life after one practice."

I let her wrap her arm around me as I kept my head in her lap.

"And if I still hate it?"

"Then we'll figure that out."

"We?"

"Of course, we."

I smiled.

She kissed me again, lingering a little longer this time.

"You don't have to prove anything anymore, Robbie."

"I know."

"I mean it. Not to those kids. Not to the other coaches. Not to me. And especially not to whoever you were before you got hurt."

I swallowed and nodded.

"Just give yourself some time."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah."

She smiled and kissed the tip of my nose.

"Good."

I sat up, pulled her against my chest and settled back into the couch.

"I fucking hurt."

She laughed softly and wrapped both arms around me.

"I know, baby."

"Like everywhere."

"Let's go sit in the hot tub then."

"That sounds so amazing. I love you."

"I love you too."

"And maybe bring me some ibuprofen?"

"Absolutely."

I kissed her forehead.

"This coaching thing is already paying off."

She shook her head, but instead of coming back with another joke, she just curled herself closer against me. For a while, we stayed there. And for the first time since I'd stepped back onto that mat, I stopped thinking about everything I couldn't do anymore and started thinking about what might happen if I went back tomorrow.

With a new mindset, I kept going back to practice and sure enough, after some time, the frustration went away. The soreness got better too. Once I stopped concentrating on what I couldn't do, I was able to find what I could do. Coaching came a lot easier when I got out of my own way. The biggest challenge I had was trying to get these students to understand a work ethic. To push themselves as hard as they could to be their best every single day. I also had a few students that I recognized by the way they looked at wrestling. A place to go and get away from whatever trouble they were having at home.

It was funny how similar but drastically different teaching and coaching were. Teaching the moves, form, technique, workouts, and all that was easy. The difference came in the connections with these athletes. Once I put my guard down, some of those difficult students did the same. I set out to help make wrestling their home away from home, so to speak. I also did my best to show them what I missed at their age, and that is that wrestling is something that we do, not who we are.

At home everything was moving along as well. Kat was an absolute beast with planning the wedding and getting the bookstore ready to open at the same time. While I initially thought Cassie and Ricky had some chemistry, it turns out it was just a really good friendship. Cassie was constantly trying to set Ricky up and get him dating, saying he was too withdrawn in that aspect of his life. To me, he never seemed unhappy really, so I refused to get involved. Mostly.

That kind of changed quite by accident. We were getting everything ready for Cassie and Kat's grand opening, and I needed some tools to put together one of the decorative display pieces. Ricky had told me to swing by and grab the tools, but he warned me that he may be out and about when I got there. He told me to text him when I got there and if he didn't answer, to let myself in and grab the tools. All easy enough. No problem.

That evening I got to his apartment and texted him that I was there. He didn't respond. I didn't think anything of it. Why would I? I went to go into his apartment, took out the key he gave me and opened the door as I was instructed. I really wasn't ready for what I saw. When I opened the door, I was greeted by the sight of Ricky passionately making out with another guy. My brain kind of short-circuited. Not that there was anything wrong with what I was seeing, it was just unexpected.

For whatever reason that is still beyond me, instead of backing out quickly and quietly, my brain decided to shove the words "Oh shit, my bad." out of my mouth.

Ricky and the guy practically launched away from each other.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Ricky snapped.

The other guy looked just as startled, immediately taking a step back. I froze in the doorway.

"Fuck, shit, ummmm... Sorry."

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

I stared at him for a second.

"You told me to come over."

"What?"

"The tools? For the display thing at The Bowery?"

Ricky's expression went blank for a second.

"You told me you might be out. You said to text you, and if you didn't answer, let myself in and grab them."

He closed his eyes.

"Fuck."

"I texted you."

Ricky immediately reached for his phone on the counter. He looked at the screen.

"Fuck, yup, you did."

"Yeah..."

The other guy looked between us like he wasn't entirely sure whether he should stay or make a run for it. I pointed vaguely toward the hallway.

"I can just get the tools and dip the fuck out of here."

"Robbie, no, wait."

I stopped. Ricky looked uncomfortable as hell. I had seen my brother in some pretty fucked-up situations over the years, but I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen him look this nervous. He glanced toward the guy beside him.

"Ummm... Evan, this is Robbie. My brother."

Something about the way he said my brother made Evan's expression change slightly.

"Oh."

I raised my hand.

"Sup dude."

"Hey."

Ricky looked at me.

"Robbie, this is Evan."

I waited, but that was apparently the entire introduction.

"Oh, uh, nice to meet you."

"You too."

The three of us stood there. Nobody said anything. It was fucking painful. Finally, Evan looked at Ricky.

I looked at the ceiling and said, "Good thing this isn't awkward as fuck or anything..."

"I should probably go," Evan said.

"You don't have to."

"It's okay."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Ricky nodded, although he didn't look particularly happy about it. Evan grabbed his jacket from the back of one of the chairs. As he passed me, I stepped farther out of his way.

"Sorry again, dude," I said.

Evan gave me a small smile and said, "You're good."

He looked back at Ricky.

"Call me later?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

Evan left. The door closed behind him. Silence. A long silence.

I looked at Ricky. Ricky looked at me. I pointed at his closet where I knew he kept the tools.

"So... tools?"

"Are you fucking serious?"

"What now?"

"You just walked in on me making out with a guy."

"Can confirm, I definitely did."

"And you're asking about tools?"

"I did come here for tools, dude."

Ricky stared at me almost pleadingly.

"Bro, what the fuck am I supposed to say?"

"I don't know!"

"Cool! Neither do I!"

He rubbed both hands over his face.

"Jesus Christ."

I stood there for another second. Then, because apparently my brain hadn't fucked this situation up enough already, I asked the first thing that came into my head.

"So... uhhh... you like dick, eh?"

Ricky slowly lowered his hands. He stared at me. I stared back as I actively questioned why my brain defaulted to humor in these kinds of situations. The serious, painful and uncomfortable ones.

"Really? That's what you're going with?"

"Fuck, I panicked."

"You panicked?"

"This is new information, dude, okay? I wasn't ready."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Robbie."

"What? I'm trying here, dude."

"Could've fooled me."

"Well, in my defense, you could've fucking told me."

The second the words left my mouth, something changed in his face. Not anger. Something else. I immediately wished I could pull them back.

"Ricky?"

He looked away. I finally forced my brain to stop trying to make the situation funny.

"Hey, Ricky, I didn't...."

"I didn't know how."

I frowned.

"How to tell me?"

He nodded.

"Why?"

He gave me a look like the answer should've been obvious.

"Because I didn't know how you'd react."

"I'm your brother."

"Yeah."

The way he said it bothered me.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

"No. Don't do that shit. What's it supposed to mean? Talk to me, dude!"

Ricky sighed and walked over to the kitchen. He leaned against the counter with his arms crossed.

"You want to know why I got out?"

That caught me completely off guard.

"What?"

"The Marines. You keep wanting to know why I didn't reenlist."

I stayed quiet.

"You said you'd tell me when you were ready."

"Yeah."

He looked down at the floor.

"I guess we're fucking doing this now."

I walked farther into the apartment but didn't get too close. Whatever this was, I wanted to give him some room. Ricky was quiet for a while.

"I didn't leave because I hated being a Marine."

"I never thought you did."

"I fucking loved it."

I could hear it in his voice.

"The structure. The guys. Knowing what I was supposed to be doing. Feeling like I was actually good at something."

He swallowed.

"I wish I could've stayed in."

"Then what happened?"

He rubbed his palms together.

"Some guys in my unit found out."

I didn't need to ask what they found out anymore.

"About you being gay?"

He nodded.

"Yeah."

I waited.

"At first it was just jokes."

His jaw tightened.

"I could handle jokes. Fuck, Robbie, you've known me my entire life. I can take somebody giving me shit."

I nodded.

"But it didn't stay jokes."

Something cold started settling into my stomach.

"What happened?"

"Just... shit."

"What kind of shit?"

"Does it matter?"

"It matters to me."

Ricky looked at me for a moment before looking away again.

"Comments. Names. Guys suddenly not wanting me around. Shit getting left in my bunk like dildos and lube. People I'd served with acting like I was some fucking predator because I'd been changing next to them for years and obviously because I'm gay that must mean I want every cock I see..."

"Jesus Christ."

"Couple guys started making sure everybody knew I was just some fucking faggot."

His voice caught slightly on the word. That told me more than anything else he'd said.

"Ricky..."

"Don't."

I stopped. He took a breath.

"I tried ignoring it. I figured eventually they'd get bored."

"They didn't."

"No."

I could feel myself getting angry, but this wasn't about me, so I kept my mouth shut.

"I reported some of it. That made it worse. Now I wasn't just gay, I was the gay guy who couldn't take a fucking joke."

He laughed bitterly.

"And that's when I realized I was done."

"So, when your enlistment came up..."

"I got the fuck out."

I nodded slowly.

"Is that why you didn't tell me when you showed up?"

"Part of it."

"What's the other part?"

He hesitated.

"I went home first."

"Texas?"

"Yeah."

"Dad?"

Ricky nodded. Fuck.

"What happened?"

"You can probably guess."

"I'd rather you tell me if you're comfortable with that."

He was quiet for several seconds.

"I thought maybe he'd changed."

That hurt all by itself.

"I don't know why. Maybe because it'd been years. Maybe because I wasn't seventeen anymore. Maybe because I'd been in the Marines and I thought he'd finally fucking respect me."

He laughed once, but there wasn't anything funny in it.

"Stupid."

"That's not stupid at all, bud. Not even a little."

"Sure feels stupid now."

"What did he say?"

Ricky stared down at his hands.

"I told him I was gay."

I waited.

"He looked at me like I told him I was a fucking child molester because that's all 'you people' are."

My jaw tightened.

"And then he asked what the fuck happened to me."

I didn't say anything.

"He said he didn't raise a fucking queer. Told me I'd embarrassed him. Told me Mom would be ashamed of me. Said thank God she didn't have to see what I'd turned into, that she would've been ashamed that her son was some fairy fag boy."

"Fuck....."

Ricky kept going like he hadn't heard me.

"He asked if all those years in the Marines had just been an all-I-can-suck buffet. Asked if I spent my deployments letting the guys in my unit fuck me 24/7 instead of doing my job."

"Oh my fucking god!"

"And then he told me not to come around him if I was going to live like that, that I was dead to him."

That one shut me up. Ricky looked toward the window.

"So, I left."

I felt like I could've put my fist through a concrete fucking wall with how angry I was at the piece of shit that called himself our father.

"When was this?"

"Before I came here."

"You went there immediately after you got out?"

"Pretty much."

"And then you came to Pennsylvania."

"Yeah."

"To me."

He finally looked at me.

"Yeah."

That hit me hard.

"And you thought I'd do the same thing."

"I didn't know."

"Ricky."

"I didn't fucking know, Robbie."

There was more emotion in his voice now.

"You hadn't seen me in six years. We talked, yeah, but that's not the same thing. And after everything with my unit and then Dad..."

He shook his head.

"I couldn't fucking do it again."

His voice cracked just enough that I noticed.

"I couldn't come here, tell you, and find out you looked at me differently too."

"Jesus, Ricky."

"So, I decided I wasn't telling anybody for a while. I came here. Got the apartment. Got the job. Started figuring shit out."

He shrugged.

"And then I met Evan."

I glanced toward the door.

"So Evan is...?"

Ricky hesitated.

"Someone I've been seeing."

I nodded.

"That's cool."

"Cool?"

"Yeah."

He stared at me.

"That's it?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know."

"Do you want a fucking PowerPoint detailing a complete explanation of emotions right now, dude?"

That finally got the tiniest smile out of him.

"No, I suppose not."

"Good. I don't have time to make a whole-ass PowerPoint."

His smile disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared.

"You seriously don't care?"

"Of course I care."

Ricky's expression tightened.

"That's not..."

"I know what you meant."

I stepped closer.

"Do I care that you're gay? No. I really don't. You're my brother. What you love, who you fuck, what you're into and shit, none of that matters to me as long as you're legal."

He watched me carefully.

"Do I care that a bunch of assholes made you feel like you had to leave something you loved because of it? Yeah. I care about that."

He looked down.

"Do I care that Dad said that shit to you? Yeah. I care about that too."

My anger flared again just thinking about it.

"And do I care that you showed up at my fucking house thinking there was even a possibility I'd stop loving you because you like dudes?"

I shook my head.

"Yeah, Ricky. That one fucking hurts, but I think I get it."

"I didn't think you'd stop loving me."

"You just said..."

"I didn't know if you'd look at me differently."

I stopped.

That was different.

"Okay."

He swallowed.

"I couldn't handle that."

I nodded.

"Then look at me."

He did.

"You're my little brother."

His eyes dropped.

"No. Look at me."

He looked back up.

"You're my little brother. You're the same pain in my neck you've been since the day Mom brought you home."

His mouth twitched.

"You're still the little punk who broke my PlayStation."

"You broke your own fucking PlayStation."

"That's revisionist history and you know it."

That actually got a laugh out of him.

I smiled.

"And apparently you like penis."

"Oh my fucking God."

"Like a lot."

"Can you not?"

"Sorry bro, I give shit equally regardless of age, gender, sexual orientation, political affiliation or race."

"That's very progressive of you."

He laughed again, despite himself, and wiped at his eyes before anything could actually fall. I let the joke die there.

"Nothing changed, Ricky."

He looked at me.

"I mean it. I know something about you now that I didn't know an hour ago. That's it."

He nodded slowly.

"And Evan?"

"What about him?"

"You don't have a problem with him?"

"I know literally nothing about the guy, why the fuck would I have a problem with him?"

Ricky smiled slightly.

"Fair."

"But if he's good to you, I'll probably like him."

"And if he's not?"

"I'll probably dislike him."

Ricky raised an eyebrow.

"That sounded suspiciously restrained."

"I'm working on myself."

"Kat making you?"

"Mostly."

He laughed.

I stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. This time, he didn't complain. For a few seconds, he just stood there. Then his arms wrapped around me.

"I love you, little brother."

His grip tightened.

"Love you too."

"And for the record?"

"What?"

"Dad doesn't get to decide whether you're something worth being proud of."

Ricky went very still.

I pulled back enough to look at him.

"You got yourself out of that fucking trailer. You became a Marine at seventeen. You served your country. You built a life for yourself. Then when that life stopped working, you walked away and started another one."

I squeezed his shoulder.

"I'm fucking proud of you."

He looked away.

"Don't."

"Too late, you heard what I said."

He shook his head, but I could see his eyes were wet.

I gave his shoulder another squeeze and let him go before either of us had to acknowledge it.

"So."

Ricky sighed.

"What now?"

"I get those tools."

He stared at me for a second.

Then he laughed.

"Motherfucker."

"What? Kat and Cassie are waiting for me."

"They're in the closet by the washer."

"Thank you."

I started toward the hallway, then stopped.

"And Ricky?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't have to tell anybody until you want to."

He looked surprised.

"Kat included?"

"Kat included."

That one clearly meant something to him.

"Thanks."

"It's yours to tell, not mine."

He nodded.

I turned toward the hallway again.

"Although you may want to warn Evan that his boyfriend's brother has a key before the next time you guys start making out or bangin' in the living room."

Ricky groaned.

"Get the fucking tools and get out."

I laughed.

There was my little brother. And somehow, despite everything he'd just told me, that was the part I kept coming back to. My little brother. Gay, straight, Marine, former Marine, whatever the fuck else he was still figuring out, it didn't really change the part that mattered to me.

But as I grabbed the tools from the closet, one thought wouldn't leave me alone. He'd come to Pennsylvania because of me. After his unit had made him feel like there was something wrong with him. After our father had looked his own son in the face and made him feel ashamed of who he was. After Ricky had decided it was safer to keep that part of himself hidden, he'd gotten in his Jeep and driven across the country to find me. And he'd still been afraid I might reject him. That hurt more than I wanted to admit. But he wouldn't have to wonder anymore.

I grabbed the tools, said goodbye and left. I never said anything to Kat and Cassie. I meant it when I said that was his news to share. He did so subtly. When we were going over the plan for their grand opening event, the subject of the guest list came up. Ricky asked if he still could have a plus one. The girls agreed and when they asked who, he took a deep breath and said that he wanted to bring his boyfriend Evan. That was that. The girls didn't make too big of a deal out of it, other than wanting the details of the relationship like usual. After that, Ricky seemed like he had a weight off his shoulders. Now that he was out, he got to just live his life and feel comfortable doing it.

The next few days were a whirlwind of preparation work to get The Bowery ready to be open. One night, it was later, and it ended up just being Kat and me in the store, all alone. Kat had insisted Cassie go home and get some rest so she wouldn't be so exhausted. She had been putting in such long hours. Apparently, Kat didn't believe that same logic applied to herself. I finished tightening the last screw on the display piece and stood up.

"There."

Kat barely looked over.

"Does that shelf look crooked to you?"

I followed her gaze.

"It does not."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

She tilted her head.

"I think it looks crooked."

"It's not crooked."

"How do you know?"

"Because I leveled it."

"Maybe the floor is crooked."

I stared at her. She looked at me.

"What?"

"You know levels account for that, right?"

"I know how a level works, Robbie."

"Then why did you ask?"

"Because something looks wrong."

I sighed and set the screwdriver down.

"Nothing looks wrong."

"You don't know that."

"I have eyes."

"You also said the display by the front window looked fine."

"It did."

"It was four inches too far to the left."

I looked toward the display in a dramatic staring-off-into-the-middle-distance kind of way.

"It remains one of the darkest moments of my life."

"Make fun of me all you want."

"Oh, I shall, m'lady."

Kat ignored me and walked toward one of the tables, adjusting a stack of books that absolutely did not need adjusting. I smiled. She was driving herself fucking insane.

The Bowery was done. Not completely done, because they say businesses were never completely done, but it was ready. The shelves were stocked. The furniture was where it belonged. Everything we'd spent months talking about, planning, buying, renovating and arguing over had somehow become real.

It looked like a bookstore. More importantly, it looked like their bookstore. Kat walked away from the table, made it about three steps, stopped, turned around and moved one of the books approximately half an inch.

"Babe..."

"What?"

"Come here."

"I'm doing something."

"No, you're not."

She looked over at me.

"I absolutely am."

"You moved a book half an inch."

"It was sticking out."

"I'm sure it was just begging for help."

"It was."

I laughed. Then I really looked at her.

She normally wore dresses when she came into The Bowery. They both did. Something about owning the place seemed to make Kat and Cassie feel like they needed to look the part. Like at any moment someone important might walk through the door and they needed to look like two women who owned a bookstore instead of two women who were still trying to figure out how to own a bookstore. Tonight though, she was dressed comfortably enough for the amount of work she still wanted to do. She was wearing an oversized T-shirt and gray sweatpants. Her hair was pulled up into a high ponytail. Whatever makeup she'd put on that morning had mostly disappeared.

She looked tired, but Jesus fucking Christ, she was sexy. Not dressed-up-for-date-night sexy. Not the kind where I knew she'd deliberately chosen something because she knew exactly what it did to me. Just Kat. My Kat.

I looked around too. Rows of books. Empty chairs. Dimmed lights. Nobody around except the two of us. Something about it felt strangely familiar.

"What?" Kat asked.

"Just thinking about another bookstore."

She knew immediately.

"Henderson's?"

"Yeah."

Her smile softened.

It was impossible not to think about it standing there. Henderson's was where we'd found each other again after all those years. Not where we'd gotten together, that came later, at the conference, but it was where everything started.

And it definitely wasn't the last time that particular bookstore played a role in our relationship. I smiled at the memory. Kat caught it immediately.

"Oh God. What are you thinking about now?"

"Your grandparents going out of town."

Her eyes widened before a blush crept into her cheeks.

"Robbie."

I laughed.

"You remember."

Of course she remembered. I knew it by the way she bit her lip and smiled.

They'd left her in charge of Henderson's for the weekend. I was there closing with her and helping her finish inventory.

Very little inventory got done.

I remembered the darkened store. The locked front door. The two of us alone between shelves of books, still early enough in our relationship that everything felt new and slightly dangerous. Kat trying to keep quiet despite there being nobody around to hear us.

Apparently, she was remembering it too.

The way she looked at me changed.

"That was your fault," she said.

"Bullshit."

She smiled. "Mostly your fault."

"You locked the door."

"The store was closed."

"Uh-huh."

I stepped closer. She didn't step away. There really wasn't much more that needed to be said.

I kissed her. It started softly, almost affectionately, the memory still lingering between us. Her arms slipped around my neck, and mine settled around her waist. Then Kat pulled me back when I started to break away.

The second kiss was deeper. Hungrier. Her fingers disappeared into my hair as I pulled her against me, and within seconds the conversation we'd been having didn't seem particularly important anymore.

I backed her toward the table until its edge caught behind her thighs and lifted her onto it.

Her legs settled around me as she kissed me again.

And fuck, I wanted her. Not because she was dressed up. She wasn't. She was wearing sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt, her hair pulled into a ponytail because she'd spent the entire day working. This was Kat when she wasn't trying to be sexy.

My Kat.

The woman who stole the blankets. Left coffee cups around the house. Spent twenty minutes worrying whether a display was four inches too far to the left. The woman I'd found again in one bookstore and was about to marry inside the life we'd built after.

My hands slipped beneath her shirt and found warm skin.

She inhaled against my mouth as my hands started creeping up higher.

"You know, baby, we have a huge house where we could take this."

"We do, but do you really want to wait that long?"

"Not particularly... come here, baby."

She took my hand and led me to one of the couches in the lounge area toward the back of the store. She sat me down on the couch and crawled on top of me, straddling me.

"How can you possibly find me sexy looking like this, baby?" She asked.

"How could I not? You are the woman I am going to marry, working so hard to open this beautiful store. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on. When you add that to the fact that we are here, alone, no Cassie around...."

She leaned down to kiss me deeply. She let me know she was into the idea by slowly starting to grind on me as she did. I let my hands slide up her sides. My hands reached the swell of her breasts to discover she wasn't wearing a bra, which only excited me more. She lifted her arms up and let me lift her shirt up over her head. Before it hit the floor, I was kissing her neck and trailing the kisses down over her collarbone to her breasts. I brought my hands to cup her breasts as I began sucking her nipples. She moaned as she cradled my head as I did. I let my hands slide back down her sides and into her sweats.

I cupped her ass and made her gasp as I gripped her ass and stood up with her, her legs wrapping around my waist. I laid her down on the couch and instantly her hands were pulling my shirt up over my head. We started kissing again, wildly, passionately, sloppily. When we broke the kiss, I slid off the couch, hooking her sweats and pulling them down with me. Then I reached up and hooked the waistband of her silky red thong. I pulled it down and tossed it to the side as well. I spread her legs wide and lowered my head between them. Her scent was as intoxicating as ever, the bittersweet scent of her natural musk mixed with an almost floral scent drove me wild every time. I lowered my mouth to her glistening folds and ran my tongue up her slit toward her swollen clit. Her taste was sweet, warm, inviting and seductive in its own right. My tongue circled her sensitive clit, instantly causing her back to arch off the couch. One of my hands came up to grip her thigh as I ate her out while I used the other to start fingering her as I continued my assault on her clit. I slowly sank 2 fingers into her slick entrance and immediately curled them in a 'come here' type motion. This drove her wild as I hit one of her most sensitive spots. Her fingers tangled in my hair as I continued.

I could tell she was getting close before she started moaning and trying to tell me. I fought the urge to lick her clit faster or finger her harder. I concentrated on maintaining that constant rhythm to let her find her release. I felt her walls begin to clamp down on my fingers, her thighs closed as tight around my head and neck as they were able. Her moans echoed through the room as her orgasm washed over her. The taste of her arousal filled my mouth as she came hard. Once she composed herself, she said one of the sexiest things a man can hear his woman say. "Robbie, I need you inside me, baby!"

Hearing that made me let out a deep shuddering growl. It always drove me crazy in the best ways when she would tell me she wanted me or needed me inside her. I would never dream of denying such a request, so I dropped my shorts and boxers as quickly as possible. I crawled on top of her, her legs spreading to accommodate me as I took my place. My cock was already as hard as possible, so I effortlessly plunged into her slick, wet heat. I simultaneously felt her pussy wrap around my cock at the same time as I felt her legs lock around me. She reached up and pulled me down into a deep kiss. Before my lips found hers, she looked me in the eyes and with shuddering breath said, "I love you so much, baby!"

"I love you too, babe," I moaned before our mouths locked into another sloppy kiss.

Our hands roamed each other's bodies as I slowly pumped my cock in and out of her. The pace was slow and deliberate. This wasn't some primal savage fucking driven by lust. This was slow, unguarded lovemaking where it seemed as though we were trying to convey the depth and complexity of our feelings for each other in this beautiful moment. Every thrust, every moan, every kiss, every touch, every look all seemed to carry the weight and gravity of our love and passion for one another. As we stared into each other's eyes, our individual bodies seemed to fade away as they almost blended into one another. I felt the tension deep inside me swelling up. There was no urge from her this time, no talking dirty, no begging for my cum. She simply looked into my eyes and pulled me into a kiss. As we kissed, I couldn't hold my release anymore. I buried myself deep inside her as I felt my release erupt inside of her. With a loud moan I completely unloaded inside her as her pussy clamped around my cock, her legs staying wrapped around my waist.

I couldn't tell you how long we lay there, not saying a word, not moving, just holding each other. Our breath and heartbeat seemed to sync up completely, though that may be entirely from my perception of the moment. After a time, she looked up at me and placed her hand on my cheek and said, "I love you so much, Robbie."

"I love you too, Kat. More than any words could possibly do justice."

I kissed her again, softly and tenderly. Around then, the late hour finally caught up to us. Kat stood and grabbed her T-shirt, which was actually one of my old concert tees, and her sweats. We both got dressed slowly, hindered by constant breaks to kiss or even just cuddle. In the end, she was so tired that I legitimately picked her up and carried her to my truck before going back to lock the building for her. It was a beautiful night, and she had worked so hard to get there. When we got home, I carried her up to our bed. Tomorrow was her grand opening and I would be there for whatever she needed. Sleep came easily, though I did take some credit for Kat being able to sleep so soundly.

Kat's POV

I woke up in our bed, confused about how I got there for a moment before remembering the delightful events of the previous night. Robbie had helped in the most Robbie way possible. He saw I was overthinking and decided to put my mind to rest using his wit, his charm, and some of his other God-given gifts that make me a very lucky woman.

What I couldn't figure out is why he wasn't in bed with me this morning. Usually, he wakes up well before I do, but then usually comes back to bed to cuddle so he can be there when I wake up. Today he was decidedly absent. I begrudgingly woke up and took a shower, shifting my focus to our big grand opening event this evening. Looking at the time and seeing that it was already 11:30 and that our event was set to start at 6:30, I realized I had to move quickly.

This was more than just a store opening, it was a celebration of our opening. Mom was coming, as were my grandparents and Rosa from Michigan. Some of our sorority sisters were coming, a few authors and publishers, suppliers, the owners of the construction companies that helped us build, Saul and a few people from Stockton Holdings, some of Robbie's new co-workers, even the mayor and a few aldermen from the city of Stonebridge were all going to be there. It was Cassie's idea to make this a marquee event to not just showcase the bookstore, but also to show off our new event space upstairs as well as our event hosting abilities. It was a full-blown event open to the public with a free buffet and everything.

I started getting more anxious the more I thought about everything. I tried my best to relax in the shower but was again slightly frustrated by the lack of Robbie. When I got out and dried off, I quickly did my makeup and put on a professional black button-down blouse and an ivory pencil skirt. At the last minute I decided to put on a pair of black semi-sheer thigh-high stockings just to drive Robbie wild. That would teach him for making me wake up alone today of all days.

I headed downstairs and was greeted by the sight of my fiancé plating my favorite breakfast. He made Eggs Benedict, toast, sausage and had 2 glasses of pineapple juice waiting for me. I was so ready to yell at him for not being in bed with me and it all disappeared in that second. He knew how nervous I was and he went out of his way to make my favorite breakfast, one of my comfort meals. This is why I loved this man.

"I hope m'lady can forgive my absence from the bed chamber this morning, for all I wanted was to prepare her majesty a worthy feast," he said, making a grand show of it.

"Baby, you are too much sometimes."

"I have been called so much worse, so I'll take it."

"I love you, baby, you really didn't have to do all this."

"I know, babe, I wanted to do it though."

"Why are you so good to me?"

"Babe, you have worked your ass off to get this place open, on top of planning the wedding and you insist on taking care of me on top of all that. You are opening your store and hosting your first major event on the same night, showing grit and determination like nothing I have ever seen before, all while keeping your relentlessly respectful, caring, empathetic personality while refusing to put yourself before others...."

Hearing him say all that made my eyes tear up a bit.

"Plus.... Have you seen you? You're an absolute 10 with a flawless ass...."

His addition made me laugh out loud involuntarily.

"Baby.... Really?"

He smiled wide and nodded, saying, "It's true, have you seen it?"

I shook my head as I sat down at the breakfast bar attached to the island in the kitchen. He sat and ate with me, trying to keep conversation as mundane as possible. He could only hold it off for so long though.

"So where is Cassie?"

"She's already at the store. I told her we would be in around 1. Your mom should be there too. Most of our Michigan guests are flying in this afternoon. Cassie and I arranged a shuttle service to and from the hotel for everyone, but your mom is staying at that luxury hotel because she is straight-up bougie."

I nodded as he told me everything. I don't know if it was a look on my face or if he noticed how I was just pushing what little food I had left around on my plate, but either way he noticed I was stressing out.

He took my hand in his and said, "Babe, I got you. You got this, everything is going to be okay. We are going to finish breakfast, your dress and my suit are already hanging in the truck so we can change later, we have plenty of time to handle anything that needs to be handled, you got your mom and Cassie for backup, plus Ricky and I are here to help wherever you need."

I took a deep breath and realized he was right, though that didn't help stop my brain from creating a list of 1,348 things that could go wrong. We finished breakfast and then Robbie drove us to The Bowery. When we got there, people were already busy working. Our employees from the bookstore side as well as the café side were busy under Cassie's supervision while people from the catering company were setting up upstairs. When Cassie saw me, she smiled wide and came rushing over to me.

"Oh my gawd, girl! We really did it! Look at all this!" She gushed.

"I know! It looks so amazing! Everything is finally coming together!"

We gushed a little bit more and allowed ourselves a girly moment of excitement. Then Cassie looked at me and said, "Oh, before I forget... do you want these for sale or are they a display piece?"

She said it, then reached into her purse and pulled out my red silk thong I was wearing last night before Robbie and I had our fun. Obviously, I was so tired I missed them when we were getting dressed. I snatched them from her hand and quickly shoved them in my purse.

"Thank God you found them! If it would have been one of the employees.... Oof, that would've been embarrassing."

"Oh girl, I didn't find them..."

"Then who did?"

As I turned to look, I was mortified when I saw my mom looking at me with a raised eyebrow.

Mom didn't say anything. Somehow, that was worse. She just stood there looking at me with that raised eyebrow and the faintest hint of amusement tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"Mom..."

"I didn't say anything."

"You don't have to."

Cassie had turned away from us entirely. Her shoulders were shaking.

"Not one fucking word, Cass."

"I didn't say anything either."

"You're laughing!"

"I'm absolutely not."

She absolutely was. Mom finally shook her head and walked past me.

"For what it's worth, Katarina, I'm glad you're enjoying the building. However, maybe a bit more discretion should be exercised in public areas..."

I wanted to die. Cassie lost it. Thankfully, there wasn't enough time for my humiliation to become the focus of the afternoon. Within an hour, The Bowery was controlled chaos.

At least, I kept telling myself it was controlled.

Every time I walked upstairs, something had changed. Tables were being dressed in white linens. Centerpieces were being positioned. The caterers had transformed one side of the event space into a buffet that looked far more elegant than anything I would have described with the word buffet. Staff moved around carrying trays, adjusting silverware and setting up drink stations while Cassie bounced between the bookstore and event space checking things off on her tablet.

Mom somehow found the one corner where she could stand without being in anybody's way and still see everything. I caught her watching us more than once. She didn't interfere. That meant more to me than she probably realized.

There was a time when my mother walking into something I was responsible for would have meant waiting for her to find what I had done wrong. Not because she was cruel, but because that was how she approached everything. Problems were things to identify before they became bigger problems. Weaknesses existed to be corrected. Success was expected.

Today she just watched. When I asked for her opinion, she gave it. When I didn't, she let Cassie and me run our business. That was new, and it was nice.

Grandpa and Grandma arrived sometime after two, and seeing Grandpa walk through the front doors nearly broke me.

Henderson's had been such a huge part of my life that I couldn't separate the store from them. Some of my earliest memories were there. I grew up between those shelves. I learned to love books there. Years later, completely by chance, it gave Robbie back to me.

Now Grandpa was standing inside my bookstore. He took his time. That was the part that got me. He didn't just walk in and tell me it looked nice. He wandered. He ran his fingers along shelves. He looked through the café. He examined the reading areas and displays. He went upstairs and slowly took in the enormous event space Cassie and I had spent months planning.

I followed him around like a little girl waiting for a grade. Eventually, he turned toward me.

"You did good, sweetheart."

Three words. That was all it took. I hugged him before I could start crying. He laughed and wrapped his arms around me.

"I'm really proud of you, Kit-Kat. So proud of you."

That almost finished me off. Grandma joined the hug, and for a few seconds I was trapped between the two of them, trying desperately not to ruin my makeup hours before people were supposed to arrive.

It wasn't Henderson's. That was important. I didn't want it to be Henderson's.

Henderson's belonged to Grandpa and Grandma. It had its own history and its own personality. The Bowery was different. It was bigger, more modern, more ambitious and probably a little ridiculous. It was ours. But if I could build something that someday meant half as much to somebody as Henderson's meant to me, I thought I could call that a success.

Rosa arrived not long after them and seeing her immediately made the whole thing feel more real somehow. She had been part of the strange series of events that brought our lives to where they were now, and watching her walk through The Bowery with that huge smile on her face made me realize just how many different pieces of our old life had followed us here.

By four, I finally admitted I needed to stop working and get ready. Cassie and I used our office as our makeshift dressing room. Our dresses were already hanging inside, along with everything else we needed.

For the first time all day, the door closed and it was just us. We stood there looking at each other. Neither of us said anything. Then Cassie smiled. I smiled back at her. Suddenly we were hugging.

"We fucking did it, girl," she whispered.

"We fucking did it."

That was our moment. Not the opening. Not the speeches. Not whatever happened later. That moment was all ours. Two best friends standing in a half-converted dressing room upstairs from the bookstore they owned together, hugging each other while caterers and employees prepared for hundreds of people downstairs. Everything else could wait for five minutes.

Eventually, we pulled ourselves together and got dressed.

We had spent an embarrassing amount of time deciding what we would wear. We wanted to look professional, but this wasn't a business meeting. It was a celebration. We were the owners, and for one night I wanted us to actually look like we belonged at the center of everything instead of running around behind it.

We opted for more elegant work dresses. Not quite something you would wear on a normal workday but also not a full-blown evening gown. When we were finished, I looked at us in the mirror. For once, I didn't see two women trying to figure out how to own a bookstore.

We looked like two women who owned a bookstore. When I walked back downstairs, Robbie was waiting near the bottom of the stairs in his suit. His eyes found me immediately, and they locked on me.

He immediately had that look. The one that made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world no matter what I was wearing. The look of pure adoration and love in every way possible. The look that made me smile even wider.

His eyes briefly traveled down my body before coming back to my face, and I could practically tell he noticed the stockings. I walked past him.

"Behave yourself, my love."

"That seems like an unreasonable request."

I laughed and kissed his cheek. There wasn't time for anything else, no matter how much I wanted there to be.

By six, the entire atmosphere of The Bowery had changed. The building glowed. The bookstore lights were warm against the darkening windows. Music played softly throughout the lower level. Employees stood ready at the café and registers. Upstairs, the event space had become something I almost didn't recognize.

Tables filled the room beneath the lights. The caterers had everything arranged perfectly. Glassware reflected the warm light from overhead, and through the enormous windows, Stonebridge stretched out beyond us as evening settled over the city.

Then people started arriving.

At first, it was manageable. A couple here. A family there. Some people I recognized from around town. Plenty I didn't.

Then more came. And more. Within half an hour, there were people everywhere. That was when my anxiety finally changed into something else. Realization, I suppose.

People were browsing. Actually browsing. They weren't politely walking around because somebody had invited them. They were pulling books off shelves. Sitting in the chairs. Ordering coffee or getting drinks from the open bar upstairs. They were asking employees questions. Walking upstairs to see the event space.

They were using The Bowery exactly the way Cassie and I had imagined people using it even though this was more of an event than just a normal night. I stood near the stairs for a moment and just watched. Someone walked past me carrying one of our bags with books inside.

I almost laughed.

Somebody had bought something. Which was admittedly the entire point of opening a bookstore, but seeing it happen for the first time felt absurdly significant. Cassie appeared beside me.

"Our first customers."

"I know."

"We have money now."

I laughed.

"We had money before."

"No. That was investment money. This is bookstore money. The bookstore has made money!"

I couldn't really argue with that.

After that, the evening became a blur. There were so many conversations that none of them lasted particularly long.

Some of my old sorority sisters arrived together, immediately making enough noise that I heard them before I saw them. There were hugs, congratulations, promises that we needed to get together properly before the wedding and enough excitement to briefly make me feel like I was back in college.

Several small-time authors and people from various publishers had accepted our invitations, which had been one of the things I was most nervous about. Those conversations were different. More professional. People asked about future signings, readings and launch events. A publisher representative spent several minutes asking Cassie about the upstairs space before requesting our event information.

That one nearly made my heart stop. This wasn't only people congratulating us anymore. Someone was talking about coming back. That was the entire idea.

The event space wasn't supposed to be a pretty room we occasionally rented out. We wanted readings. Release parties. Private dinners. Community events. Corporate functions. Weddings. Charity events. Anything that made sense. Tonight was our proof that we could actually do it.

The owners of the construction companies who had spent months turning our ideas into an actual building came too. It was strange standing beside them in dresses and suits instead of arguing about outlets, walls, fixtures, permits and timelines. Several of them looked almost as proud of the finished building as we were.

Saul arrived with a few of his colleagues from Stockton Holdings.

He looked exactly like Saul always looked, which was to say like somebody who was extremely intelligent but socially awkward. Like someone who had to be reminded he was here to have fun as a guest.

I liked Saul but the man needed to learn to loosen up. When I reminded him he was a guest tonight and not working, his response was that in finance one is always working. Robbie trusted him completely though, and I understood why.

More importantly, I knew how much of what surrounded us existed because Saul had been one of the people who helped Robbie learn how to use the settlement responsibly instead of simply treating it like an enormous bank account.

I saw Robbie talking with him later, drink in hand, and couldn't hear what they were saying. Saul looked around the room. Then he nodded once. Robbie smiled.

Whatever had been said, apparently that was enough. After that I got incredibly amused when the most animated and relaxed I saw him was when he was talking to my mother. Birds of a financial feather.

Mom moved through the room differently. I watched her talk to publishers, business owners, city officials and people from Stockton Holdings with the effortless confidence she'd spent her entire adult life developing. But she never tried to make herself the center of anything.

When someone congratulated her on what she had built, she corrected them. Not aggressively. Just consistently and politely. Kat and Cassie built it. Every time. I noticed it and I appreciated it.

A few years ago, I might have expected her to see The Bowery as something small. A bookstore in Pennsylvania compared to the world she inhabited. Instead, she treated it like it mattered because it mattered to me. That was enough.

The mayor and several aldermen arrived together later in the evening. That was probably the moment I most acutely became aware that this wasn't simply our friends and family celebrating with us. They toured the bookstore, spent time upstairs and talked with us about what we hoped The Bowery could become in Stonebridge.

I gave them the polished answer. Books. Coffee. Events. Community. It was the same basic idea Cassie and I had talked about from the beginning but saying it to the mayor while hundreds of people filled the building made it sound much less like an idea.

It sounded like something we'd already started doing. Somewhere in the middle of everything, I finally spotted Ricky. Evan was beside him. That made me smile.

Ricky looked nervous for approximately thirty seconds after I noticed them before Cassie intercepted the two of them. Whatever apprehension he'd had about showing up with his boyfriend didn't survive very long. Cassie immediately started talking to Evan like she'd known him for years. I didn't make a big deal about it. Neither did anyone else.

Ricky introduced Evan to people when it came up. Evan stayed beside him. Sometimes they stood close. Sometimes they didn't. That was it. And I had a feeling that was exactly what Ricky needed.

Robbie moved around the party differently than everyone else. He wasn't an owner of The Bowery. He made that very clear whenever someone accidentally congratulated him like he was. He'd point toward Cassie and me. Every time with so much pride.

He was everywhere. One minute he was helping an employee with something. The next he was upstairs talking with one of his new coworkers from Stonebridge. Then he was helping Grandma and Grandpa find somewhere to sit, introducing Ricky to someone from Stockton Holdings or carrying something heavy because apparently being six-foot-five and built like him meant people naturally assumed you were available whenever something heavy needed to move. Or maybe it was Robbie who kept insisting on helping. It was hard to say.

Every so often, though, I'd catch him watching me. Not staring at my ass. Well, not only staring at my ass but really watching me. There was pride in his face that I couldn't miss. It was strange realizing how much our lives had changed. We'd spent so much time supporting each other through things that hurt. His accident. Losing wrestling. My relationship with Mom. My uncertainty about what I wanted my own life to look like. Starting over. Moving.

There had been so much rebuilding that sometimes I forgot we were allowed to actually arrive somewhere. Tonight felt like arriving. Eventually, Cassie and I were asked to say something. Neither of us had planned a speech. That might have been a mistake.

Standing in front of that many people certainly made it feel like one.

Cassie looked at me. I looked at her. Then I looked around.

Mom. Grandpa and Grandma. Rosa. Ricky and Evan. Saul. Our friends. Our employees. People we'd worked with. People I'd never met before tonight.

And Robbie. Always Robbie.

Suddenly I knew what I wanted to say.

"Thank you all for coming," I started. I wanted to thank everyone who had helped us get there. The people who built this place. The people who believed in us. Our employees for taking a chance on a business that technically hadn't existed yet. Our families and friends for tolerating months of us talking about almost nothing else.

Then I looked at Cassie.

"But mostly, I want to thank my best friend."

She immediately looked emotional, which in turn made me emotional. Fantastic. I took her hand.

"This started as two girls talking about how amazing it would be to have a bookstore of our own someday. We didn't know where. We didn't know when. We definitely didn't know how."

A few people laughed.

"But we knew what we wanted it to feel like."

I looked around the room.

"We wanted somewhere people could come because they loved books, obviously. But we wanted more than shelves. We wanted somewhere people could sit down, have coffee, meet somebody, find something new, celebrate something important or just spend a few hours somewhere they felt comfortable being."

I squeezed Cassie's hand.

"And somehow, we built it. We hope you all enjoy this space with us, and I hope The Bowery will provide this environment for many, many years to come."

That was enough. Cassie hugged me.

The room applauded, and for a few seconds I couldn't do anything except hold onto her and try not to cry. Then the party kept going. And that might have been my favorite part. There wasn't some magical ending after the speech. People went back to eating. Drinking. Buying books. Talking. Laughing. Living inside this place we'd made.

By nine, some of the older guests had started leaving. Grandpa and Grandma were among them, both hugging me before they went. Mom stayed longer than I expected. Rosa stayed even longer.

The public crowd gradually thinned. The music got quieter. The caterers began cleaning. Our employees started straightening shelves and collecting abandoned cups. By the time the last guests finally left, my feet hurt so badly I wanted to cut them off.

I kicked my heels off almost immediately. Cassie did the same. For several minutes, we helped clean because apparently neither of us knew how to stop working. Eventually Robbie physically removed a stack of glasses from my hands.

"Enough, babe."

Normally I would have argued. I didn't have the energy. Cassie dropped into one of the chairs upstairs. I sat beside her. For the first time all day, the event space was quiet.

The evidence of the night was everywhere. Tables that needed resetting. A few glasses that had escaped cleanup. Centerpieces slightly out of place. The faint smell of food still lingering in the room. Downstairs, I could hear employees finishing the last few closing tasks. Cassie leaned her head against my shoulder. I rested mine against hers.

Nobody said anything for a while. We didn't need to. That morning I'd been terrified nobody would come. Then I was terrified too many people would come. Then I was terrified something would go wrong. That was when I realized how silly I'd been.

Perfect had never been the point. People came and did everything we wanted them to do. They bought books. They drank. They ate. They laughed. People asked about booking events. People told us they wanted to come back.

Our employees had handled themselves beautifully. Nobody died. As far as first days went, I would take it.

Mom walked over and stopped in front of us. She had her purse over one shoulder and looked far less exhausted than I felt, which seemed deeply unfair. She looked around the room once before looking at Cassie and me.

"You ladies did well."

I lifted my head.

Mom wasn't someone who said those words casually.

"You built something amazing here."

That was all she said. She kissed my forehead, hugged Cassie, told us she'd see us tomorrow and left. I sat there after she was gone. That one was going to stay with me.

Robbie eventually came over and lowered himself into the chair across from us. His tie had disappeared at some point, his collar was open and his sleeves were rolled up.

He looked exhausted and irresistible as ever.

Ricky and Evan were among the last people still around, helping downstairs even though nobody had asked them to. Rosa was talking with Cassie, apparently they were picking up right where they left off.

I looked at Cassie and said, "We own a bookstore."

She laughed tiredly.

"We own a fucking bookstore."

That made me laugh too. Robbie smiled at us. And finally, after months of plans, spreadsheets, construction, meetings, decisions, delays, furniture, inventory, permits, arguments, excitement and more money than I wanted to think about, I let myself stop worrying about what came next.

Tomorrow there might be problems. There would be payroll and inventory and schedules. Customers might complain. Something may break. Events would need to be booked. Bills would need to be paid. Cassie and I would undoubtedly discover a thousand things about owning a business that neither of us knew yet.

Tonight, none of that mattered. Tonight, The Bowery was open. People had walked through our doors. They had filled the place with noise and laughter and conversation. They had made memories here. And when everyone finally left, the building didn't feel empty.

I looked out through the glass at Stonebridge beyond us and felt something settle inside me that hadn't been there that morning. Not relief as much as pride. It was ours. We had built something. And for one night, before I started worrying about everything that could happen tomorrow, I let that be enough.

The high from the grand opening lasted for a few days. Grandma and Grandpa stayed with us a little longer before heading back to Michigan. Grandpa spent enough time at The Bowery to give Cassie and me approximately six months' worth of advice, although unlike most unsolicited business advice, his was actually useful. When they finally left, Grandma made us promise we'd call more often and Grandpa hugged me for a long time before telling me again how proud he was.

Rosa had to head back to Michigan too. She had a job and her own life waiting for her there, although being Robbie's best person meant we'd be seeing plenty of her before the wedding. Cassie was noticeably quieter after she left. She didn't mope around or turn it into some dramatic heartbreak. They'd both known what their thing was from the beginning. Still, I knew my best friend well enough to know she missed her.

Mom stayed a little longer than everyone else. That surprised me more than I wanted to admit. There was always going to be some complication to our relationship. We had too much history for everything to suddenly become perfect because we'd started talking again. But she was trying. More importantly, I was finally willing to let her try. By the time she left, I found myself wishing she didn't have to. That was new.

Then everyone went home and Cassie and I had to face the terrifying reality that The Bowery was no longer something we were preparing to open. We were open.

And holy shit, running a bookstore was a lot different than opening one. The first few weeks were mostly controlled chaos. Deliveries were late. We ordered too much of some things and nowhere near enough of others. Employees called in sick. The café somehow went through an absurd amount of oat milk. Cassie and I discovered at least once a day that there was something neither of us had thought about.

But people kept coming. That was what mattered. Within a couple weeks we started recognizing regulars. People stopped in for coffee before work. Others came in on their lunch breaks. The couches and chairs we'd spent way too much time choosing actually got used. The students surprised me the most.

The Bowery was close enough to several schools and colleges that it slowly became one of those places students just seemed to collect. At first it was one or two people sitting with laptops. Then small groups started taking over tables to work on projects together. Some came in with textbooks spread everywhere and stayed for hours, fueled almost entirely by coffee and whatever they could afford from the café.

We started seeing the same faces enough that we learned some of their names. I loved it. They weren't always buying books, but I didn't care. They bought coffee. They bought food. Sometimes they bought nothing at all and just needed somewhere warm to sit and work. It made the place feel alive. I think Grandpa would have understood that better than anyone.

The upstairs started finding its purpose too. We hosted a few author events, a book club that had apparently outgrown someone's living room, a birthday party and a small charity dinner. Then the corporate inquiries started coming. Cassie loved that side of the business.

I was learning to. Somewhere between running The Bowery and planning a wedding, November disappeared and suddenly it was December.

The wedding was still six months away, but June suddenly didn't feel nearly as far off as it had when we first started planning. Most of the major decisions were made, but there was still a steady stream of smaller ones. Invitations, flowers, decorations, fittings, music, menu ideas and about a thousand other details I never realized went into getting married. Mom helped more than I expected, Cassie took her maid-of-honor duties almost as seriously as running The Bowery, and Grandma called regularly to see how things were coming along. Robbie remained incredibly interested in anything involving food, alcohol or music while trusting me completely whenever I started asking questions about colors, flowers or things he claimed were "outside his area of expertise." We weren't at the stressful final countdown yet, but the wedding had become this constant little thing running in the background of our lives, slowly getting more real as June got closer. Honestly, it worked.

Home changed with the season too. This was our first Christmas in the house, which meant we owned almost nothing to decorate a house that fucking enormous. Robbie solved that problem the way Robbie solved most problems since becoming wealthy. He threw money at it, much to Saul's chagrin. Thankfully, he didn't just go out and buy seventeen inflatable snowmen or something equally ridiculous. He hired a company to do the exterior lights after I pointed out that I had absolutely no interest in watching my fiancé fall off a ladder three weeks before our wedding.

Inside, though, we did it ourselves. We bought our first tree together, all three of us. Despite the fact that she lived in the pool house, we still treated this like our house. Then came the ornaments. Stockings. Garland. Lights. Decorations for the fireplace. Decorations for the staircase. Decorations for rooms I wasn't entirely convinced needed Christmas decorations. By the time we were finished, we'd somehow acquired enough Christmas shit to fill several storage bins once January came. We loved every second of it.

There was something about decorating that house together that made owning it feel different. Buying it had been exciting. Moving in had made it ours. Christmas was just one more thing that made it feel like home.

Ricky started spending more time there too, and Evan came with him often enough that nobody really thought twice about it anymore. Some nights all of us ate together. Other nights it was just Robbie and me sitting in front of the fireplace after getting home entirely too late.

Life was busy. Really busy. But it was good.

Robbie had teaching and coaching. I had The Bowery and the wedding. Cassie had become frighteningly good at managing the business side of the store. Somehow, between all of it, Robbie and I still found time to actually be together.

Then Cassie booked our biggest private event yet. A corporate Christmas party.

The company had found us after the grand opening and worked primarily through their executive assistant and events coordinator. They were spending enough money that Cassie nearly levitated when we got the signed contract back.

Neither of us knew much about the company beyond what we needed to know to host their event.

They wanted an upscale Christmas party. We wanted to prove The Bowery could handle one. As far as we were concerned, that was the entire story. It wouldn't stay that way for long.

The Christmas party was our biggest private event since opening. Vantaris Technologies had rented the entire upstairs event space for their annual company Christmas party. They were expecting somewhere around four hundred people, which meant Cassie and I had spent most of the week obsessing over everything from table arrangements to catering access to where four hundred winter coats were supposed to go.

We had hosted smaller events by then. Book launches, birthday parties, a retirement dinner, a charity fundraiser and a wedding shower. Those had taught us a lot.

Four hundred people taught us that we still had a lot to learn. Thankfully, we weren't stupid enough to think we could do everything ourselves. The catering company handled the food. They brought in additional bartenders and servers. We hired security for the night and contracted additional cleaning staff.

Robbie and Ricky volunteered anyway. I told Robbie he didn't have to. He informed me that he was aware of that and that he would be showing up anyway. Ricky did too after giving the same answer.

By five, The Bowery looked completely different. The bookstore downstairs was decorated for Christmas already, but upstairs had been transformed. The tables were covered in white linens with evergreen centerpieces and soft gold lighting. A massive Christmas tree stood near the windows. The caterers had taken over the service area, the bars were stocked, music was playing quietly and Cassie was walking around with a tablet checking things off her list.

For once, I wasn't panicking. Okay. I wasn't panicking much.

Vantaris had been surprisingly easy to work with. They were some kind of technology company specializing in artificial intelligence and data infrastructure. I understood approximately thirty percent of what their event coordinator told me about what they actually did, but their deposit cleared, so I was comfortable admitting that the remaining seventy percent was none of my business. Their people started arriving a little after six. Within an hour, the room was full.

It was exactly what Cassie and I had wanted the upstairs to become. Hundreds of people eating, drinking, laughing and actually using the space we had spent months creating. Downstairs remained open for part of the evening, and more than a few Vantaris employees wandered through the bookstore before heading upstairs.

Robbie ended up helping near the entrance. Ricky bounced around wherever someone needed another set of hands. Everything was going beautifully. Then Cassie appeared beside me. She didn't say anything at first. That should've warned me.

"What?"

Her eyes stayed fixed somewhere over my shoulder.

"Kat..."

There was something strange in her voice.

"What?"

"Don't freak out."

There are few phrases in the English language more effective at making someone immediately freak out.

"What the fuck are you on about?"

"Behind you..."

I turned and my entire body went cold.

Tristin Bancroft was standing there in our event space. For a second, I genuinely thought my brain had invented him. He was standing near the entrance talking to two men I didn't recognize. Dark suit. Expensive watch. Hair perfectly styled. Drink already in his hand.

He looked older. Not old. Just different. More polished. More like his father.

"Holy shit," I whispered.

"Yeah."

"What the fuck is he doing here?"

"I don't know."

"You booked them, Cass."

"I booked Vantaris Technologies!"

"I know!"

"I didn't book Tristin fucking Bancroft!"

I looked back at him. He hadn't seen me yet. At least I didn't think he had. My first instinct was ridiculous. Some primitive part of my brain wanted to hide. Then I got angry at myself for even thinking it.

This was my building. Well, technically Robbie owned the building but... Whatever.

This was my store. I wasn't hiding from my ex-fiancé in my own fucking business. Before I could decide what to do, Robbie walked up beside us. He followed our eyes across the room.

"Who are we staring at?"

Cassie looked at him.

"Tristin."

Robbie's expression went completely blank.

He looked at me.

"That Tristin?"

"Yep."

He looked back across the room.

"That him?"

"Yes."

Robbie stared for another second.

"Huh."

That was it. Just huh. For some reason, that concerned me more than anything else he could have said.

"Robbie."

"What?"

"Don't."

"I didn't do anything."

"You're thinking about doing something."

"No... I was thinking of things I could be doing. That's completely different."

"Robbie."

He finally looked at me.

"Babe, I'm not going to start shit with your ex at your event."

I relaxed slightly.

"Thank you."

"Unless he starts shit."

"Robbie!"

"I'm kidding."

He wasn't entirely kidding. Before I could deal with that, somebody called my name from behind me. One of the caterers needed to know where another case of wine was supposed to go. That was perfect. A problem I could actually solve. I spent the next twenty minutes doing exactly that. Probably 15 minutes more than I actually needed to, but still.

Unfortunately, Tristin eventually saw me. I was talking with the Vantaris event coordinator when I noticed him walking toward me. There was no mistaking it anymore. He knew exactly who I was.

"Katarina?"

Hearing his voice was stranger than seeing him.

I turned.

"Hello, Tristin."

He stopped in front of me. For several seconds we just looked at each other. Then he smiled.

"Wow."

I wasn't sure what that meant.

"You look amazing."

"Thank you. You look well."

He still looked like Tristin. Handsome, well dressed, confident. There had been a reason twenty-year-old me had fallen for him.

"You work here?"

I almost laughed.

"I own it."

His eyebrows rose.

"This is yours?"

"Mine and Cassie's."

He looked around the room.

"The whole place?"

"The bookstore and event business. The building itself is owned separately."

I didn't feel like explaining Stockton Holdings. He looked genuinely impressed.

"Wow. Kat, this is... really nice."

"Thank you."

There wasn't anything insulting hiding underneath it. Not yet. That almost made the interaction stranger.

"I had no idea you were here," he said.

"Same."

"I'm working with Vantaris now."

That explained absolutely nothing, and apparently my face said so.

"Outside counsel," he clarified. "Bancroft Hawthorne represents them."

"Oh."

"Dad represented them for years. When I made Junior Partner, he transferred the account to me."

There was pride in the way he said it. A lot of pride.

"Congratulations."

"Thanks."

For a moment, neither of us knew what else to say.

"How have you been?" he finally asked.

"Good. Really good, actually."

"I heard you moved to Pennsylvania."

Of course he had.

"My mom?"

He smiled slightly.

"Your mother and my father still run in some of the same circles."

That made sense.

"How is Lillian?"

"Better."

His eyebrows rose at the answer, but I didn't elaborate.

"And you're still doing your little writing thing?"

There it was. Still writing. It shouldn't have bothered me. Maybe he hadn't meant anything by it.

"I am."

"Good."

I waited for the little smile. The condescending comment. Something about eventually doing something more practical. It never came. Instead, he nodded toward the room.

"And apparently running a business."

"Apparently."

He smiled.

"I guess I underestimated you."

I wasn't sure how to take that or if it was meant to be a compliment. I saw Robbie coming toward us before Tristin did. He'd been helping Ricky and the catering staff get the last of the bar supplies upstairs. He'd ditched his suit jacket somewhere along the way and rolled the sleeves of his white dress shirt up his forearms.

He was carrying a keg. A full, unopened keg like somebody had handed him an inconveniently large box. I almost laughed. Of course this was how these two were going to meet.

"Robbie," I called.

He looked over and changed direction toward us. Tristin followed my eyes. I noticed the brief change in his expression.

Tristin wasn't a small man. He never had been. He was tall, broad-shouldered and took care of himself. He was always very vocal about the fact that he was 6'2" and somewhere around 220 pounds. He was used to having a physical presence. Add the expensive suit, perfect blond hair and Bancroft confidence, and he usually looked like he owned whatever room he walked into.

Then Robbie walked up carrying a full keg.

"Hey, babe, what's up?"

"Robbie, this is Tristin Bancroft."

Robbie's eyes moved to him. For the briefest second, I wished I could crawl under one of the tables.

"Tristin, this is my fiancé, Robbie Stockton."

Robbie shifted the keg, not because he was struggling with it. Apparently, he just wanted his right hand free. He hooked one hand beneath the rim and held the entire damn thing against his thigh while extending the other toward Tristin.

"Nice to finally meet you."

Tristin looked at the offered hand. Then the keg. Then Robbie. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep myself from laughing. He took Robbie's hand.

"Likewise."

They shook. Robbie wasn't squeezing his hand. I knew him well enough to know that. There was no macho bullshit, no attempt to prove anything. Somehow that made it worse. Tristin was looking slightly upward at him while shaking hands with a man holding an entire keg one-handed. Robbie probably didn't even realize how ridiculous the visual was. Tristin absolutely did.

"You're the wrestler," Tristin said.

"Used to be."

"Michigan?"

"Yep."

"Division One?"

"Yeah."

Tristin nodded.

"I had heard you were good."

Robbie smiled slightly.

"I heard that too."

I nearly choked. The motherfucker knew exactly what he was doing now. Tristin glanced at the keg again.

"And now you teach?"

"English."

"Interesting change."

"Isn't it?"

There wasn't even a hint of defensiveness in his voice. That seemed to bother Tristin more than if Robbie had tried explaining himself.

"I recently made Junior Partner at my father's firm."

"Congratulations, that's quite an accomplishment."

"Thank you."

"Vantaris is my first major client."

"Nice."

That was it. Nice. Tristin Bancroft had probably spent half his adult life learning how to casually mention accomplishments in ways that made people understand how successful he was. Robbie was holding a keg and looking at him like he'd just said he got a promotion at Target. Then Ricky came around the corner.

"There you are. Dude, they're waiting for that keg upstairs."

"Sorry, I got distracted."

Ricky stopped when he saw us. His eyes went from me to Tristin. Then to Robbie.

Oh no was all that went through my head.

"Ricky," I said before either Stockton could make my night worse, "this is Tristin Bancroft. Tristin, Robbie's brother, Ricky."

Ricky set down the case of liquor he'd been carrying and offered his hand.

"Nice to meet you."

Tristin shook it.

"You too."

I watched him take Ricky in. The family resemblance wasn't overwhelming, but the size apparently was. Tristin had gone from being one of the largest men at his company's Christmas party to standing between two Stockton brothers that made him look almost small.

Ricky looked at Robbie. Then Tristin. Then me. Recognition hit him.

"Oh."

Robbie's mouth twitched.

"Yep."

Ricky looked at Tristin again.

"Oh."

"Don't," I warned.

"I didn't say anything."

"You said oh twice."

"That isn't saying anything."

"Ricky."

He raised both hands.

"I'm going."

He looked at Robbie.

"Come on, Robbie, they need that keg."

"Yeah, yeah."

Ricky grabbed his case and started toward the stairs.

"Nice meeting you, Tristin."

"Likewise."

Robbie looked at me.

"You good, babe?"

"I'm fine."

"Need anything?"

"No. Go finish helping."

"Yes, ma'am."

He leaned down and kissed my temple.

Then Robbie shifted the keg back underneath his arm and walked toward the stairs with it.

Tristin watched him go. I watched Tristin watch him go. Eventually he looked back at me.

"What?"

"Nothing."

I just looked at him. His eyes went toward the stairs again.

"He's..."

I waited. Tristin took a drink.

"Still in really good shape."

I couldn't help it. I laughed.

"Yeah. He is."

"I heard you were engaged."

My ring wasn't exactly subtle.

"I am."

"Congratulations."

"Thank you."

And surprisingly, that was where it ended. At least at first. Tristin went back to his coworkers. I went back to helping run the event.

For the next couple hours, nothing happened. That should've been the end of it. Unfortunately, alcohol existed.

By nine, Vantaris had transitioned from corporate Christmas party to several hundred highly paid adults taking advantage of an open bar. Tristin had decided to participate enthusiastically.

I noticed him looking at me more often. Then he started finding reasons to talk to me. Nothing outrageous. A comment about the store. A question about Pennsylvania. A memory from Harvard. The first couple times, I answered politely and moved on. Then the questions became more personal.

"How long have you two been together?"

"Few years."

"And when are you getting married?"

"In June."

"June."

"Yes."

He stared into his drink.

"That was quick."

I frowned.

"Not really."

"I guess."

There was something in his tone I didn't like. I excused myself. An hour later, he found me again. This time, I smelled the bourbon before he spoke.

"You know, I really did miss you."

"Tristin..."

"What?"

"Please... just don't."

He laughed quietly.

"Don't what?"

"You know what."

He looked around before leaning against the bar.

"I spent a long time wondering what happened to you."

"You know what happened."

"You left."

"Yes."

"That's not really an explanation."

I stared at him.

"We've had this conversation."

"Years ago."

"And the answer hasn't changed."

His jaw tightened slightly. There was the first real glimpse of something I didn't recognize. Or maybe something I'd never noticed before.

"You just decided that everything we had wasn't enough."

"No. I decided it wasn't what I wanted."

"Same difference."

"No, Tristin. It isn't."

I turned to leave. His voice stopped me.

"I made Junior Partner."

I looked back.

"Okay?"

"At twenty-six."

"Congratulations."

"You know how rare that is?"

I could've told him that having Bancroft written on the fucking door probably didn't hurt, but I didn't. This wasn't the place.

"I said congratulations."

"I'm doing everything we talked about, Kat."

And there it was. I finally understood what this conversation was actually about.

"That was the problem."

His expression changed.

"What?"

"You're doing everything you talked about."

"That isn't fair."

"It doesn't have to be. We're not together anymore."

His eyes moved across the room until they found Robbie. Robbie was helping Ricky move an empty tray rack toward the service area.

"He's a teacher, right?"

My irritation immediately sharpened.

"Yes."

"And that's what you wanted?"

I stared at him.

"I wanted Robbie."

He laughed softly and shook his head. Not because something was funny but because I had given the wrong answer in his mind.

I walked away. After that, I made sure I wasn't alone with him. Not consciously at first. I simply found myself staying near Cassie, the staff or Robbie. The party continued around us. Music. Laughter. Glasses clinking. Employees posing for pictures beneath the Christmas tree.

Tristin kept drinking. And watching. Near ten-thirty, Sebastian Bancroft arrived. I recognized him immediately. He hadn't changed much. Older, obviously. More gray around his temples, but still carrying himself with the same quiet confidence I remembered.

Unlike his son, Sebastian didn't look surprised to see me.

"Katarina."

"Mr. Bancroft."

He smiled.

"Sebastian. Please. You were almost family once."

That could've been awkward. Somehow, coming from him, it wasn't. Tristin's father was a kind soul. Stern and stoic most of the time, but behind that he was genuinely a kind man.

He looked around the room.

"This is yours?"

"Mine and my business partner's."

"Impressive."

"Thank you."

He glanced toward Tristin, who was across the room with several Vantaris executives and friends of his.

"I imagine you were surprised."

"That's one word for it."

Sebastian gave me a sympathetic smile.

"I assure you, had I known where Vantaris was holding the party, I would have warned you. Vantaris was my client for nearly fifteen years and they are based in Philadelphia. I gave the account to Tristin when he became Junior Partner."

There was pride there. But something else too. Expectation maybe.

"He earned the promotion," Sebastian added, almost as though he knew what people assumed. "Although I am not naïve enough to pretend our name didn't open doors."

That was probably the most honest description of Tristin's career I had ever heard.

"He's done well with them?"

"Very well. Corporate law suits him."

Sebastian's eyes found his son again. His expression tightened slightly.

"Professionally."

I didn't ask what that meant. I didn't need to. By eleven, I was ready for the night to end. Not because the event had gone badly. It had actually gone incredibly well.

Vantaris loved the space. Their executives had already asked Cassie about dates for another event. The catering had gone smoothly. Nothing had broken. Nobody had thrown up on anything expensive.

By event-space standards, apparently that qualified as tremendous success. I was standing near the edge of the room checking something on my phone when Tristin approached again.

"Kat."

I sighed.

"Tristin, I am working."

"You've been avoiding me."

"I've been hosting an event for four hundred people."

"You've been avoiding me."

I put my phone down.

"Okay. Yes. Now, I am avoiding you."

He laughed.

"Why?"

"Because you're drunk."

"I'm not drunk."

He was absolutely drunk.

"And because every conversation we've had tonight gets progressively more uncomfortable."

His smile disappeared.

"I've been trying to talk to you."

"And I've been trying to make it clear that I don't want to have this conversation."

"You haven't even given me a chance."

"A chance at what?"

His eyes dropped briefly toward my engagement ring.

"You really love him?"

I couldn't believe we were doing this.

"Yes."

"More than you loved me?"

That actually pissed me off.

"I'm not answering that."

"Why?"

"Because this isn't a competition."

"It kind of is."

"No. It isn't."

He stepped closer.

"I could've given you everything."

I stared at him. That sentence told me he still didn't understand.

"You could've given me everything you thought I should want."

His face hardened.

"You used to want it."

"I used to think I did."

"Until him."

"No. Before Robbie."

He shook his head.

"Bullshit."

That stopped me.

"Excuse me?"

"You expect me to believe it's a coincidence? You leave me, disappear, then suddenly you're with some fucking meathead dumbass wrestler?"

I felt my anger rising.

"Careful."

"What? I'm supposed to be impressed?"

"No. You're supposed to respect the fact that I'm marrying him."

"You were going to marry me."

"And then I chose not to."

He flinched like I'd slapped him. Good. Because apparently after all these years, that was still the part he couldn't accept.

"You made a mistake."

"No, Tristin."

His eyes stayed on mine.

"You did."

"No."

"You don't seriously believe this is the life you wanted."

I looked around. At The Bowery. At the Christmas decorations. At Cassie laughing with one of the Vantaris employees. At Ricky helping one of our servers. At Robbie across the room, already watching us now. Then I looked back at Tristin.

"This is exactly the life I wanted."

His face changed. I think that hurt him more than anything else I could've said. He stepped closer.

"Kat..."

"No."

"Just listen to me."

"I have listened."

He reached for my arm. I pulled it away.

"Don't."

He stopped. For one second, I thought that had finally gotten through. Then he smiled. Not kindly. More like he'd decided I was being difficult. God, I knew that look. I had forgotten how much I hated that look.

"You always did this."

"Did what?"

"Got yourself worked up and decided everything had to be dramatic."

I stared at him.

"I'm not being dramatic. I'm telling you to leave me alone."

"You don't mean that."

"Yes, I fucking do."

He stepped toward me again. I stepped back.

"Tristin."

He reached for me. I turned my face away. His hand caught my cheek. And then he kissed me. Not long. Maybe a second. Probably less. Long enough. I shoved him away from me.

"What the fuck!"

The room around us seemed to go quiet all at once. Tristin stumbled backward. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Kat..." he said, reaching for me again.

"Don't fucking touch me!"

Movement came from my right. It was so fast it was a blur. It was Robbie. Ricky was only a few steps behind him. I knew Robbie's face. I knew every version of my man's anger, or at least I thought I did. I had never seen this one.

He didn't yell. That was worse. He walked straight toward Tristin. I moved between them.

"Robbie... please don't," I whispered.

His eyes never left Tristin.

"Did he just fucking kiss you?"

"Yes."

Tristin scoffed.

"Oh, Jesus Christ. It was a kiss."

Robbie took another step. I put my hand against his chest.

"Baby."

He stopped. Barely. Ricky moved beside his brother. He wasn't as visibly furious as Robbie, but the way he positioned himself told me everything I needed to know. Then another voice cut through the room.

"Tristin!"

Sebastian spoke with authority from across the room. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. Tristin turned. His father stood several feet away. The disappointment on Sebastian's face was almost worse than anger.

"Dad, I..."

"What the hell are you doing, boy?"

"Nothing, it was just...."

Sebastian stared at him.

"I watched you put your hands on a woman who told you not to touch her."

Tristin's face reddened.

"It's not like that."

"I was standing ten feet away."

"Dad..."

"NO!"

That single word shut him up. Sebastian walked closer. I suddenly became very aware of how many people were watching. Vantaris executives. Employees. Our staff. Cassie. Everyone.

Sebastian looked at me first.

"Katarina, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Sebastian."

He nodded once. Then he turned back to his son.

"You're leaving."

Tristin stared at him.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"This is my client."

"Not anymore. This is Bancroft Hawthorne's client."

The distinction landed hard. Tristin looked around at everyone watching.

"You're seriously doing this here?"

Sebastian's expression didn't move.

"You chose to do this here."

Tristin's jaw tightened.

"I've had a few drinks."

"That explains your judgment, or lack thereof. It does not excuse your behavior."

Tristin glanced toward me. Then toward Robbie. That was when his embarrassment seemed to turn into anger.

"This is fucking ridiculous."

"No," Sebastian said. "What's ridiculous is that I entrusted you with one of this firm's most upstanding clients, and you're drunk at their corporate event harassing your former fiancée."

"I wasn't harassing her."

"She told you to leave her alone, more than once."

Tristin said nothing. Sebastian waited. Nothing.

"Didn't she?"

Tristin looked away. That was answer enough. Sebastian's disappointment deepened.

"I spent years building my reputation with the people in this room. I gave you this account because I believed you were ready to build yours."

That one hit hard.

"You're done here tonight."

"Dad..."

"Go back to the hotel, son."

Tristin stared at him. For a second, I saw exactly what he had become. Not some monster. Not some evil man. Something sadder. A spoiled little boy in an expensive suit who had spent enough of his life getting what he wanted that he genuinely didn't know what to do when someone told him no.

His eyes moved to Robbie and I knew exactly who he blamed. Not himself, not the alcohol, not the choices he'd made. He blamed Robbie.

"This is because of you."

Robbie's eyebrows rose.

"Excuse me?"

"You think you fucking won?"

"Tristin," Sebastian warned.

But Tristin wasn't listening anymore.

"You show up out of nowhere, she throws away everything we had, and now you stand there acting like you're fucking better than me?"

Robbie stared at him with a pitying expression. For once in his life, he didn't have some smart-ass response ready. Maybe because even Robbie realized how pathetic it sounded.

"Stop."

Tristin looked at me.

"You still don't get it."

"What?"

"Robbie didn't take me from you."

His expression hardened.

"I left you."

Silence.

"You didn't lose me to Robbie. You lost me because you never actually listened when I told you who I was."

His eyes stayed on mine.

"And apparently you still don't."

That landed. Sebastian stepped between us before Tristin could answer.

"Enough."

He motioned toward the exit. Tristin looked at his father. Then me. Then Robbie.

For a moment, I thought he might say something else. Instead, he turned and walked away.

One of the Vantaris executives quietly intercepted him near the door and apparently arranged for someone to take him home. Sebastian remained where he was. His shoulders dropped slightly. For the first time all night, he looked old. He turned toward me.

"Katarina, I am deeply sorry."

"You don't have to apologize for him."

"I know."

He looked toward the door his son had disappeared through.

"That doesn't mean I'm not sorry."

I nodded. Sebastian looked at Robbie. They hadn't actually been introduced beyond what he'd witnessed. Robbie still looked like he was approximately three seconds away from committing a felony.

Sebastian offered his hand.

"Sebastian Bancroft."

Robbie stared at it for a moment before taking it.

"Robbie Stockton."

"I gathered."

Sebastian glanced toward me. Then back at Robbie.

"Thank you for stopping when she asked you to."

That caught Robbie off guard. He looked at me.

"She didn't need me making it worse."

"No," Sebastian said. "She didn't. As a father though, I appreciate you not giving my son what any man would say he had coming to him."

For some reason, I appreciated that more than I expected. Sebastian excused himself to deal with Vantaris. The room gradually returned to normal. Or as normal as a Christmas party could get after several hundred people watched one of the company's attorneys get thrown out by his own father.

Cassie appeared almost immediately.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

She hugged me anyway. Ricky stayed near Robbie. Probably intentionally. Robbie still hadn't taken his eyes off the door.

I walked over and took his hand. That finally got his attention.

"Baby."

"You sure you're okay, babe?"

"Yes."

His jaw tightened.

"He fuckin'..."

"I know."

"I really want to hit him."

"I know."

"Like, really fucking bad."

Despite everything, I almost smiled.

"I know."

His fingers closed around mine.

"But you don't want me to."

"No."

He took a slow breath.

"Okay."

That was it.

No argument. No macho bullshit. No insisting that he needed to defend my honor. Just okay. I leaned against him. The party continued. It had to.

That was one of the stranger lessons I had learned since opening a business. Your personal life could momentarily implode in the middle of the room, and there were still caterers who needed direction, invoices that needed signatures and four hundred guests who had paid for an event. So, Cassie and I went back to work.

But as the night continued, I couldn't stop thinking about Tristin.

Years ago, I had told Mom he wasn't evil. He wasn't abusive. He wasn't some monster. He had simply been completely wrong for me. I still believed that about the man I'd been engaged to.

I wasn't sure I knew the man who had walked into The Bowery tonight. Maybe he'd always had that entitlement buried somewhere inside him. Maybe success had fed it. Maybe becoming Junior Partner at his father's firm and being handed clients worth more money than most people would ever see had convinced him that every door would eventually open if he pushed hard enough. Maybe getting me back had become another door.

I didn't know. What I did know was that when I told Robbie no, he stopped. When I told Tristin no, he decided I didn't mean it. For years, I'd struggled to explain the difference between those relationships. That night, Tristin explained it for me.

I was obviously still a little shaken from Tristin putting his hands on me and forcing himself on me, but I did my best to mask it. At one point I excused myself back to our office to just take a breath. Robbie came in not long after. He kept his distance at first, understanding that close male contact may freak me out more. I went to him though and wrapped my arms around him. He wrapped his around me and I instantly felt safe. In his arms, the world couldn't get to me.

Robbie didn't try to make any jokes, didn't try to say anything, he just stood there and held me, which is exactly what I needed. Just a few minutes to relax and calm down. I wasn't having a full-blown trauma response. I was angry that Tristin had felt so entitled to be telling me what I want and then to put his hands on me, alcohol or not. Cassie did come in as well and apologized for not being more observant and present to keep it from happening. I told her she owed no apology, nobody but Tristin did. They were all doing their jobs. If anything, I should've had the presence of mind to tell the security we hired to remove a drunken guest, but I didn't because I thought Tristin was better than that. Lesson learned.

After calming down, we went back out and finished the event. Sebastian and the Vantaris executives thanked us for a wonderful evening before apologizing profusely for Tristin. I insisted they not worry. Vantaris even committed to several more bookings but assured us that Tristin would not be present nor involved with the company whatsoever from that moment on.

As cleanup began, Ricky and Robbie insisted that Cassie take me home and they would oversee cleanup and closing for us. I tried arguing, but Robbie got in that mode where he would not take no for an answer. It was 2 in the morning, and I really did not have the energy to argue. So, Cassie took me home.

Despite being ridiculously tired, I couldn't get comfortable in bed. I threw on some PJ pants and a tank top and made my way downstairs, out onto the patio and toward Cassie's. She understood and let me in. We climbed into her bed and turned on some random dumb teen rom-com as background noise. Truthfully, just having her nearby was enough comfort to help me finally fall asleep.

Robbie's POV

By the time we finally got everyone out of The Bowery, it was well after two in the morning. Kat still wanted to stay. The woman had been assaulted by her ex-fiancé, watched his father publicly tear him a new asshole, spent the rest of the night trying to pretend she was fine so she could finish hosting the event, and somehow still thought she needed to help clean up.

Fuck that. Ricky and I put our foot down. Cassie was taking her home. We would handle everything else. Kat argued with me for a few minutes before exhaustion finally won. I kissed her, promised I wasn't going to try cleaning the entire fucking building myself, then watched Cassie drive away with her.

Only after her taillights disappeared did I realize how pissed off I still was. I'd kept it under control all night. Mostly because Kat needed me to. Seeing Tristin grab her and kiss her after she had clearly told him no had lit something in me that I hadn't felt in a long fucking time. I wanted to hurt him. Badly.

Sebastian handled his son before I could, security got Tristin out of the building, and Kat was okay. That was what mattered. At least, that's what I kept telling myself.

Ricky and I spent the next hour and a half helping the remaining staff and cleaning crew tear everything down. Tables got cleared. Leftover food was packed up. Empty bottles were collected. Decorations that belonged to Vantaris were separated from the stuff that belonged to The Bowery. Eventually the catering crew left, then the bartenders, then the cleaning company.

By 3:30, it was just Ricky and me. We did one last walkthrough upstairs before shutting everything down.

"Good?"

Ricky looked around.

"Good."

"Thank fuck."

He laughed.

"Getting old, Robbie?"

"Fuck you, no matter what age you are, 3:30 is fuckin' late."

"Yeah, that's valid."

I flipped off the lights. We checked the bookstore downstairs, set the alarm and stepped outside at about three-forty-five in the morning.

The cold hit me immediately.

"Fuck me."

Ricky pulled his coat tighter.

"You had to pick Pennsylvania."

"Trust me, Michigan would've been worse."

"How could it be worse than this?"

"Just trust me, kid, it was worse."

Snow had been falling again. Not hard, but enough to put a fresh layer over the parking lot. Everything was quiet in that weird way it gets when snow is coming down in the middle of the night. The roads beyond the parking lot were nearly empty. Most of the cars from the party were long gone. I shoved my hands into my pockets.

My truck was parked toward the side of the lot. Ricky's Jeep was a few spaces down.

I was halfway there when I heard the sound of car doors. I stopped. Ricky did too.

A few vehicles were parked along the far end of the lot. Doors were opening. Men got out.

"Rob."

"Yep."

Then I saw Tristin.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."

He came around the front of one of the cars with a bottle of tequila hanging from his hand. There couldn't have been more than a couple swigs left in the bottom. He looked like shit. The perfect hair was gone. His tie was missing. His dress shirt was partly untucked beneath his coat, and even from twenty feet away I could tell he was fucking hammered. Six or seven other guys came with him.

Ricky looked at me.

"That's really him? After all that?"

"Yep."

"He is either ridiculously dumb or ballsy as hell."

"Those two things are not mutually exclusive, bro."

Tristin pointed at me with the bottle. His vision clearly wasn't focused as he struggled to stand straight.

"Stockton."

I sighed.

"Go home, dude."

"Fuck you."

"Okay... good talk."

I started walking toward my truck again.

Apparently, that pissed him off more than if I'd said something back.

"Don't fucking walk away from me."

I stopped. Ricky stopped beside me. I turned around.

"What the fuck do you want?"

Tristin staggered forward a couple steps.

"You think you're fucking better than me?"

Oh boy.

"No."

"Bullshit."

"Dude, you're drunk. Go home."

"You fucking ruined everything."

That caught me.

"I ruined everything?"

"You."

He pointed the bottle at me again.

"Everything was fine until you showed up."

I stared at him, confused.

"Kat left you before I even knew she was back in my life."

"Fuck you. You know what I mean," he said, his words seeming to slur more with every syllable.

"No, actually, I don't."

"She was supposed to marry me."

My patience disappeared.

"She didn't want to."

His face tightened.

"You don't know shit about us."

"I know enough."

"You think she actually wants this? Wants a washed-up meathead that's pulling what, 65k a year?"

I laughed once. That wasn't even worth answering. Tristin stepped closer.

"She was confused. She was going through shit and you fucking swooped in."

"Careful." Ricky's voice came quietly beside me. Not to Tristin. To me.

He knew me too fucking well. I took a breath.

"Kat made her choice. You don't have to like it."

"My father humiliated me because of you."

"No. Your father humiliated you because you grabbed a woman who told you no and kissed her in front of a room full of people."

His jaw clenched.

"Don't fucking talk to me like that."

"Then don't make me explain consent to a fucking lawyer."

One of the guys behind him laughed. Wrong fucking time to laugh. Tristin spun toward him.

"Shut the fuck up."

Nobody laughed again. I looked at Ricky.

"I'm done."

"Yep."

We turned toward our vehicles.

"You aren't going anywhere."

I heard footsteps crunching through the snow behind us. Ricky and I stopped again. This time, when I turned around, the rest of them had started spreading out. That changed things. This wasn't just Tristin being a drunk asshole anymore.

I counted without really meaning to.

Eight. Eight of them. Two of us. I looked at Ricky. He was already looking at me. And then, for some fucked-up reason, we both started laughing. Not because eight guys couldn't hurt us. They absolutely could. It was because I suddenly remembered being fourteen years old again.

Growing up where we did, fighting wasn't some dramatic fucking event. Nobody circled a date on the calendar and prepared for it. You fought because somebody ran their mouth. You fought because somebody shoved you. You fought because some older kid wanted the five dollars in your pocket. Sometimes you fought because your brother was fighting and that made it your problem too. Sometimes you fought because you were bored and there wasn't anything to do. Sometimes, sometimes you fought because your dad was drunk and self-preservation kicked in.

Half the time, I couldn't even remember what the fuck the fights had been about. Dad certainly hadn't taught us how to handle things like civilized human beings. Mostly he'd taught us that if somebody hit you, you hit them harder. Not exactly great parenting. But it meant Ricky and I had been fighting beside each other since before either one of us was old enough to drive.

Then I spent years wrestling. Ricky joined the fucking Marines. And now eight drunk rich boys in dress shoes were standing in a snowy parking lot telling us they were going to kick our asses. Life was fucking weird sometimes.

"What the fuck is funny?" Tristin demanded.

Ricky rubbed his mouth.

"Nothing."

One of Tristin's friends stepped forward.

"You guys really think you're tough or something?"

"Nope," I said.

"There's eight of us."

Ricky and I looked at each other again. That nearly got us laughing again. The guy spread his arms.

"Two of you. Eight of us."

I shrugged.

"No, there's not."

He frowned.

"What?"

Ricky smiled.

"He said there's not."

"Can't you fucking count?"

"Pretty well," I said.

I nodded toward the group.

"Problem is you're counting people who aren't gonna do shit."

That wiped the smiles off a couple faces. Tristin stepped forward.

"You think I'm scared of you?"

"No." I looked at the bottle in his hand. "I think you should be, but you're fucking drunk. Walk away, dude."

I turned one more time to walk away. I felt a sharp pain in the back of my head as the bottle struck it and clattered to the ground.

"Okay then...."

Ricky sighed.

"Guess we're doing this."

"I really don't want to."

"Me neither."

Tristin ripped his coat off and threw it onto the hood of the car.

"You two are about to get your fucking asses beat."

I looked at Ricky. He shrugged.

"It's gonna be one of those nights."

"Apparently."

Tristin charged me. There wasn't any warning beyond that. One second he was standing there, the next he fucking lunged.

My body reacted before my brain did. Funny, I'd spent weeks getting pissed off because wrestling didn't feel natural anymore. Apparently getting attacked in a parking lot fixed that problem.

I stepped off his line, caught him as he came in and used every bit of his momentum against him. He never had a chance. His feet left the ground as I scooped him into the perfect double-leg takedown. For a split second, I had that old familiar feeling.

Balance. Leverage. Control.

Then Tristin hit the snow-covered pavement hard enough to knock the air out of him. His head bounced as we heard a loud, sickening crack against the pavement. And he stopped moving. I stared down at him.

"Fuck."

Beside me, another guy had gone after Ricky at almost the exact same time. That went about as well for that guy. The guy threw a wild punch and connected with Ricky's jaw. Ricky hit the guy back with a beautiful right hook. Just once. The guy dropped like somebody had unplugged him.

Silence. Complete fucking silence. We looked at each other again. Then we both looked at the six guys still standing there. Nobody moved. One of them slowly raised his hands.

"Fuck this."

Another guy backed up.

"Yeah, no."

Ricky looked at me.

"I think your math was right."

"Usually is."

One of the guys crouched beside Tristin.

"Jesus Christ. Tristin?"

He shook him lightly. Tristin groaned. Good, at least I hadn't fucking killed him.

I looked at the rest of them.

"Anybody else?"

Ricky turned toward me.

"Rob."

"What?"

"Don't."

"Right."

Probably wasn't helping. I took a step back and held up my hands.

"We're done. Get your friends home."

"Someone already called the cops," one of them said.

"Good."

Ricky gave me a look.

"What?"

"You sure about that?"

"They attacked us."

"Yeah."

I looked toward the corner of the building.

"And this place has cameras fucking everywhere."

That made me feel better. For about three minutes. The police showed up fast. Two cruisers came into the parking lot first, then another behind them. Red and blue light washed across the snow and reflected off the windows of The Bowery. I put my hands where they could see them. Ricky did the same. One of the officers got out.

"Everybody stay where you are!"

Nobody argued.

Tristin had managed to sit up by then. He looked dazed as hell. His friend was awake too, although he was still sitting on the ground holding his jaw. The cops separated everybody. An officer took me toward one cruiser while another took Ricky in the opposite direction.

"What happened?"

"They jumped us."

"Who?"

I pointed.

"Tristin and that guy came at us. The rest backed off after those two went down."

The officer looked toward them.

"You hit that gentleman?"

"I put him on the ground after he charged me."

"Did you punch him?"

"No."

"What did you do?"

"I wrestled for most of my life. I took him down."

The officer wrote something down. Across the parking lot, I could hear one of Tristin's friends talking to another cop. Then another one joined in.

I couldn't hear much. I heard enough. They came at us. What? Those two started it. Oh, fuck you. They were waiting for Tristin.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."

"Sir."

I looked back at the officer.

"They're lying."

"We'll sort it out."

"There are cameras."

"We'll check them."

"Good."

I glanced toward Ricky. He was talking to another officer and looked just as pissed off as I felt.

The officer came back.

"Mr. Stockton, turn around for me."

I stared at him.

"You're serious?"

"Turn around."

"They fucking attacked us."

"We have multiple witnesses saying otherwise."

"Multiple witnesses who came here with him!"

"Robbie."

I heard Ricky's voice. I looked over. He already had his hands behind his back. That did more to calm me down than anything the cop could've said. Ricky shook his head once. Don't fight it.

Fine. I turned around. The handcuff closed around my wrist. Then the other.

I'd never been arrested before. I'd come close a couple times growing up. Okay, more than a couple. But somehow, I'd always managed to avoid actually getting put in cuffs. Apparently, I just needed to become a high school English teacher first.

"Can I at least call my fiancée?"

"You'll have an opportunity."

Fantastic. The officer walked me toward the cruiser. I looked across the parking lot.

Tristin was still sitting against the side of the car while a paramedic checked him out. One of his friends was talking animatedly to another officer. The other guys stood together, suddenly looking a whole lot more innocent than they had ten minutes earlier when they were telling us they were going to beat our asses. Ricky caught my eye as another cop walked him toward a different cruiser. He looked down at the cuffs. Then at me.

The officer opened the back door. I stopped before getting in and looked back at The Bowery. Three hours ago I'd been watching Kat run around that building making sure everything was perfect. An hour ago I'd kissed her goodbye and promised her I'd lock up.

Now I was standing in her parking lot in handcuffs. She was going to fucking kill me. The cop put his hand on top of my head and guided me into the back seat. Across the lot, Ricky was still laughing as they put him in the other cruiser.

I shook my head.

I sighed.

"Fuuuuuuuuck."