Truly Madly Deeply: Chapter 42

“I Will Always Love You”—Whitney Houston

“Wakey, wakey! Time to put those hideous leggings to good use.”

I knew that voice.

That voice berated, belittled, and bewitched me at times.

It was the voice of a man who had run with me every morning—until recently, at least.

Of someone who’d kissed me to the point my knees were still weak and my heart still beat irregularly every time I played the moment in my head, and I played that moment in my head at least twice a minute.

Now, my stomach flipped at the memory of being pressed against the snow beneath Row three nights ago, of that kiss that had electrocuted me, before he’d disappeared to London without as much as a goodbye. I’d had to hear through Dylan that he was on another continent.

“Go away,” I groaned.

Semus, beside me, doubled down with a loud, dismissive meow.

“You’re welcome for the free catering,” Row growled beneath my window. He appeared to be in a great mood. Had he murdered someone? Not that I condoned that type of action, but I hoped that Allison was the victim.

I buried my face in my pillow. It was too early, too cold. Plus, I felt under the weather after spreading Dad’s ashes in Moxie Falls a couple days ago.

One promise down, another one to go.

“Dot, I’m counting to ten.”

“Good for you. What a milestone to celebrate just shy of your twenty-eighth birthday.”

“Joke’s on you when I get up there,” he threatened.

“What will you do to me?” I raised my head from the pillow, my curiosity piqued. Please let it be filthy. And naked. And full of bodily fluids.

There was a beat of silence. What, no comeback from Mr. Sarcastic? I stared at my window with my heart in my throat.

“Just come down, will you?” His voice sounded tired and…defeated? Could it be? “Fuck. I’m trying to be there for you, but I’m out of my depth here. The restaurant is closed down for the foreseeable future and I have a crazy stalker running around freely. Quit being difficult and come down already.”

“Oh. Shit. Are you okay?” I bolted upright, brushing my hair with my fingers, running to the window. The mere sight of him soothed my soul. Oh God. I was so freaking screwed.

“Yes. No.” He scrubbed a hand over his face tiredly. “I don’t know.”

“Give me five.” I dragged myself out of bed. Semus stayed inside, squinting at me patronizingly as I collected my hair into a bun and slammed my feet into sneakers. “Yeah, I know. You get to sleep in and lick your own balls. Such a winner, Sem.”

After splashing my face and brushing my teeth, I threw my door open and came face-to-face with Row.

He was wearing a black hoodie and gray sweatpants, his usual attire for our morning runs. As soon as he saw me, his frown melted into something else entirely. I loved that he looked at me in a way he never looked at anyone else. Like I wasn’t just a person but an experience.

“What happened?” I asked.

Row shook his head. “Been freezin’ my ass here waiting for you. Let’s start running and I’ll tell you.”

“Fine, but I’m going to yell at you at some point,” I warned.

“What for?” He glowered.

“Kissing me—we can’t do that again, by the way. And leaving without a word. But first, tell me what happened to Descartes.”

Usually, we spent our runs either teasing each other, Row’s way of making sure I wasn’t inside my own head or replaying my flashbacks with Allison. Maybe it was because Row looked pissed off or maybe it was because Dad was somewhere beautiful right now, floating in the wind, being the freest he’d ever been, but for some reason, I didn’t concentrate on the running or my trauma when we started making our way down my street. We jogged lightly, minding the slippery sidewalk with the leftover melted snow.

Row brought me up to speed about what had happened to his restaurant as our feet pounded the pavement. I didn’t know what part annoyed me more—the way people in this town were treating him or how callous Sheriff Menchin was about it.

“I’m not even sure how long Descartes will be closed. We have media appearances booked, food critics scheduled, a whole farewell party… This was supposed to be a fucking celebration. Not a hastily closed business,” he grumped.

“It’ll be open for the last week before Christmas,” I heard myself say. God knew who had given me the authority or knowledge to make such a prediction. “You’ll close it with a bang, and it will be legendary.”

We made it to downtown before I even realized I had run all that way. Something compelled me to announce, “Come on, coffee on me at Dahlia’s Diner.”

He used the hem of his hoodie to wipe the sweat off his forehead, revealing a freakishly defined six-pack. Or was it an eight-pack? I was usually good at math, but not when my entire blood flow rushed to my vagina.

“Nah.” He shook his head. “Don’t feel like another horror show.”

“Don’t let them win,” I chided.

“I’m about to bulldoze over their town to get cut a nice check. I’m the one who is winning. Don’t see a point in rubbing it in their faces, though.”

“Fine. Wait here.” I marched into the diner, returning after a few minutes with two steaming cups of coffee and a box full of pastries. I led him to a bench overlooking the harbor and flipped the box open. He reached for a custard-filled donut. I slapped his hand away. “You’re going to have to earn your food, mister.”

“Sexual favors?” His gaze swung to mine, one eyebrow quirked up. “You did say we’re inevitable.”

“Ugh. You and your one-track mind.” I shook my head. “I’m going to ask questions, you’re going to answer them. Question number one: Why are you helping me run?”

“Because I like you despite my better judgment. Next question.”

I was somewhere between deliriously flattered and completely crushed. “Well, nothing can happen between us.”

“Why?”

Because I like you, too, and I can’t put my heart on the line. I have been hurt before. I cannot afford another public demise.

“Because of Dylan.” This wasn’t a lie. This was my first reason. I still wasn’t positive she’d be cool with us. My idiot heart came a close second. “Question number two: Why didn’t you tell me you were going to London?” I couldn’t keep the hurt from my voice. I had been off the entire drive to Moxie Falls, after Dylan had casually mentioned Row was away when I’d visited her to drop off more secret cupcakes.

Row looked puzzled. “Didn’t think you’d give a shit.”

“I do. I am. I…I care,” I admitted chokingly. “It’s also basic courtesy.”

“Duly noted. I’ll work on my manners. Anything else?” he asked, patiently impatient, eyeing the donut.

“What are you going to do about your stalker?”

“Kill them, once I catch them.”

“Be seri—”

“Nope. Earned at least one pastry.” He snuck his hand into the box and grabbed a donut, taking a big bite. He grinned at me, his straight, white teeth covered in green and red Christmas sprinkles. “You were saying?”

The green reminded me of something. “Did you ever send me a broccoli cake for my birthday?”

“No.” His cheekbones pinkened, and he dropped the donut back into the box.

“Row.”

“It was the culinary challenge, okay?” He trained his gaze on the ships anchored by the harbor, releasing a quick breath. “I was in New York for a conference and remembered your stupid birthday wish. Marcus, the executive chef of the restaurant you worked for, is an old friend. He told me you’d have a shift.”

“Dude, it was actually delicious. Do you have, like, a secret sauce?”

His eyes traveled down to his groin, and I laughed, pushing his muscular arm playfully. Row grabbed another pastry, shoving it past his lips. “My turn to ask questions—why red?” Sugar-powdered fingertips reached to tuck a tendril of my flame-hued hair behind my ear.

Because that’s the color I’ve been seeing ever since you left without saying goodbye.

“It’s that time of the month,” I lied. I wondered if we were ever going to stop lying to each other. If we were capable of simply saying the truth when it came to us.

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re bullshitting me.”

“Wanna check?” I snorted.

“Yes.”

The laughter that fizzed out of my mouth sounded like two whales trying to communicate from different oceans. He stared at me stoically. The idea of him giving me a physical exam made my heart race and my insides clench with need. “I have another question,” I announced.

“Yay,” he said flatly, his eyes on me. “Hit me.”

“Why did you really cut out my head from all of my pictures with Dylan when we were kids? My seventeen-year-old self was deeply offended.” Not to mention creeped out. I had never, for one moment, believed that it was Dylan. She had no motivation to do so.

“Tell her my twenty-two-year-old self cut your face out, not your head.” He paused. “Because I wanted a reminder of you, and taking a whole-ass album was out of the question. I could only afford the one suitcase.”

“You could’ve taken two or three pictures.”

Headshake. “One thing you should know, Dot, is that I’m greedy when it comes to you.”

We stared at each other silently for a beat, an entire ocean of words raging between us.

Oh crap. He was right. He was going to screw me at some point.

“One last question.” I wanted to grab the drawstrings of his black hoodie. To loop them around my fingers. To tug him to me and kiss him until we were both out of breath.

“Shoot.”

“Do you think I’ll be able to complete the 10K for Kiddies?”

And there it was. The smile that made my heart melt. “Dot, you are going to kill it.”