Page 857 of One More Kiss

It’s agony.

A crack in the center.

Tears fill my eyes, but I blink them dry. I wish I had met him before, and had more time to spend with him.

Shaking my head, I heave a long, inaudible sigh and swallow thickly.

Stop the pity party, my brain screams, snapping me out of the bleak thoughts.

It’s time to pull up my big man undies. Time to act like an adult.

A snort skips out of my mouth. Act like an adult. Right. Like I’m not one already.

I get up and check the small closet, the drawers, and any place I think I might have left anything of mine.

Rowan will be here any moment now. He has been out since morning, attending some meetings with his agent and publicist. Something about signing a contract with a sportswear company, becoming their brand ambassador, or something like.

I should be ready before he arrives.

I check the bathroom once more, anything to keep my mind and body busy. Nothing.

I come out, and I’m about to grab my bags when the suite’s door opens.

In walks Rowan, looking professional and commanding in a suit and tie.

He’s so handsome he takes my breath away.

Rowan’s eyes light up when he sees me, a smile spreading across his face. There’s so much joy.

It pulls a smile out of me. My first genuine smile for the day.

“Hey.” He walks toward me and encircles me into his arms. “I missed you, Oak.”

The words annihilate and rebuild me.

Sorrow spins round and round inside my chest, choking the air in my lungs.

I blink a million times to stop the tears from filling, to hide my pain and numbness.

“Me, too, Rowan. Me, too,” I choke.

A confession.

A declaration.

His. Mine.

He leans down and kisses me tenderly, gently, cherishing me. I melt into him, my heart dancing with joy.

When he finally edges away, I exhale unsteadily, trying to swallow past the blocked passage in my throat.

A forced smile plasters on my face, as fake as the three-dollar bill I always carry in my wallet. “How was your meeting?”

“It was good. Lots of money talk, hashing out the contract details, and whatnot. Anyway, I want to tell you something. Come sit with me.” He sits down in the chair and lugs me in his lap.

I lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder. Anything to not look into his eyes. “What do you want to tell me?”

“Well, this is my last year in the racing circuit. I’m retiring next year. You know, slow down, put down roots.”

---