Page 53 of She Was Made for Me

Her gaze snaps back to mine. “Oh, it’s not like that. It’s… something else.”

“What do you mean?”

Her mouth opens and closes a few times, and she sighs. “Okay, fine. I got a call from my old boss this morning, and there’s a project manager position opening up at my old company. She thinks I have a good chance of getting it.”

I try to keep my expression blank, but there’s a pinch in my chest at the thought of Violet leaving. I push it away as she continues.

“I told her I was managing this project, and she asked for a letter of recommendation. It won’t count if I get one from Dad, so I was wondering…” she trails off, looking at me hopefully.

“You want me to write you a letter of recommendation?” I scan her face, at the way she looks a little uncertain, as if I might say no. That hurts. “Of course, Vi. I’ll write you a great recommendation.”

She lets her breath out in a long exhale. “Okay. Cool. Thank you.”

“But what does that have to do with the tickets?”

“Oh, well…” She gives a sheepish laugh. “I kind of thought that I might need to, I don’t know, sweeten you up a bit.”

A laugh rumbles in my chest. “Seriously?” As if I’m not already sweet enough on her as it is.

She shrugs. “I wasn’t sure.”

God, I’d give anything to step forward and pull her close, to bury my face in her neck and stroke her hair and tell her I’d do pretty much anything for her at this point.

I rake a hand through my hair, thinking. So it’s definite, then—she’s going back to the West Coast. And I’ll be returning to Maine. It’s just like she said, this is all temporary, then we go back to our real lives.

And suddenly, I want to make every moment I have left with her count—in all the ways I’m allowed to, at least. There’s no harm in two people enjoying some music together, is there? And Rich will be out of town. He’d want me to make sure she’s safe. Besides, what if I don’t go with her and she invites Owen instead?

Fuck that.

“Well… if you have the tickets, it seems a shame to waste them,” I say, with what I hope is a nonchalant shrug.

Her gaze sparkles as it moves over my face. “It does. You told me I need more time away from work, and I’d really like to see them. Wouldn’t you?”

I nod, a grin tugging at my mouth, because I do want to see them—I’ve never seen them live—and I want to do it with her.

“Cool.” Her smile makes my chest ache. “Then I’m looking forward to it.”

* * *

It takesme forty-five minutes to get ready for the evening. It doesn’t help that I sweat through my first shirt, which is absurd because, as I keep telling myself,this isn’t a date.

For some reason, that makes me even more nervous.

I consider wearing a button-down shirt, then realize that’s a bad idea. It’s a concert in a converted warehouse, where I’ll most likely be surrounded by twenty-year-olds. I don’t want anyone to think I’m Violet’s dad.

Again.

Eventually I settle on a plain black tee, faded jeans, and boots, styling my hair in the way she seemed to appreciate last time. Then I worry I’ve put in too much effort, until Violet meets me in the entry hall looking so delicious I want to take a bite out of her. She’s wearing a denim mini skirt and some kind of white, ruffled top that cuts across her chest, exposing her shoulders. Her cheeks are flushed with excitement, her blonde hair pulled high into a ponytail. There are a few loose tendrils around her neck, and I want to brush them away and trail my mouth across the soft, exposed skin.

I want to forget the damn concert and take her to bed.

Stop. Now.

“Ready?” I ask brusquely, looking away.

“Yep.” She slings a little purse across her body and we head out into the warm evening air, her sweet vanilla scent making me heady as we walk side by side through the Heights.

The venue is only a ten-minute walk, across Old Fulton Street—“Named after the guy who ran the first steam ferry in 1814,” Violet says with a grin, and I nearly kiss her right there—then under the Brooklyn Bridge overpass to an old tobacco warehouse on the edge of the water. It’s a two-story brick structure with arched windows and doorways. Half of it is a theater used for productions and concerts, and the other half of the building maintains the brick façade with open arched windows and no roof. Instead, the walls contain a paved area and outdoor garden, through which you can see the East River, and Manhattan in the distance.

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