Page 123 of The Charm of You

But nothing happens. There’s no sound other than music and laughter from the guests downstairs.

Confident that no one is in danger, I smooth my hair down again and head outside to find Austin, scooping up two fresh drinks on my way.

He’s at the fence in the back of the courtyard, tucked away from the rest of the group just as he said he’d be if I weren’t here. He leans over the railing with his tie in his hands. The shirt collar rests loosely under his chin, and his hair is uncharacteristically tame tonight.

Austin is a certified southern treat.

On my way toward him, I pass Maren and Nate, who are dancing together. Her head is sweetly nestled under his chin, much like old times.

And my hopelessly romantic heart melts.

I reach Austin and hand him the short glass with bourbon. After a shared clink, I suck back the bubbly from my flute. The drink burns my dry throat, and I wince.

Over the rim of his glass, he says, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Something like that.” I’m definitely haunted by Melissa and the job I had just over a week ago, which now feels like an entirely different lifetime. Tears sting the backs of my eyes as I turn to him and say, “I don’t want to leave, Austin.”

He leans his elbows over the railing again, the drink between his hands, and his large frame sags. Shadows from the evening hide most of his face, and I tell myself it makes this conversation easier.

But my aching heart proves otherwise.

“I don’t want to leave,” I repeat, but my voice is weaker. “I just have a lot of unfinished business in New York. My apartment. My roommate. And actually, my old boss?—”

“You have to go, Homecoming Queen,” he whispers.

He’s right—it is what I’m telling him myself, after all—but hearing it from Austin hurts worse.

“There are a million reasons you need to go back. You don’t have to list them all.” He dips his head and further conceals himself away from me.

The only reason I know this bothers him is the thickness in his heavy, raspy voice, like it’s difficult for him to speak.

“It doesn’t mean you and I can’t still talk and see each other,” I say quickly. “I’d love if we could still see each other.”

Austin finally stands upright and faces me head-on. The lights strung around the perimeter of the courtyard shed a golden glow over his tight expression. The frown he wears is as prominent as if it were carved in clay, and it spears my stomach.

“You belong in New York, and I belong here. We’ve been avoiding reality all week, but it’s time we stop pretending.” His throat bobs as he swallows. “Let’s not make this harder than it needs to be.”

“What are you saying?” I nearly choke on the question as my eyes brim with tears.

“I told you from the start that we wouldn’t have a storybook ending,” he says, his words strained like they’re physically painful to release.

Hearing them is no picnic, either.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to keep in touch once you leave. A clean break right now is best before anyone gets hurt,” he continues, and his eyes slightly gloss over.

“This isn’t really about me leaving, is it?” I venture.

“I’m not the one for you.”

I fold my arms over my chest against a sudden chill. “You could be, but you’re purposely pushing me away. Why?”

“I told you?—”

I hold my hand up to stop him, then ease it back into the crook of my elbow as I wrap myself in an embrace. “I know what you told me a few days ago, but I also know that so much has changed since then. I refuse to believe you don’t agree with that.”

“Damn it, Caroline.” He huffs. “Why do you have to argue about everything?”

“Because you refuse to tell me the truth, and I deserve the fucking truth. You have feelings for me. Why can’t you admit it?” I press.

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