Page 41 of The One She Can't Forget

“Monica moved back to her place. I’m taking her to the store.”

Bryce smirked. “You’re a regular taxi service these days, aren’t you?”

I grabbed my towel and whipped it at his leg. “Maybe so. But at least my girl is here and not four hundred miles away kissing some other guy.”

That wasn’t exactly the best way to frame Krystal’s job as an actress in Faithmark romance movies.

Bryce glared at me. “Bro, not cool!” He groaned. “I don’t want to think about that!”

I laughed. “When does she come back?”

“One more week. I’m so ready. I know she needs to do these movies, and they don’t take that long to film, but I’m ready for her to be home. I’ve got the ring.” He leaned in. “Plus, I already checked with Bloom’s Farm, and Lily said she could give me a date in August because someone canceled.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Whoa. You think you’d do it that fast? I guess I better get to planning your bachelor party,” I said. It was already the middle of June.

He shook his head. “Nothing crazy,” he reminded me.

“Who, me?” I said innocently. I laughed at his expression. “Just kidding, I promise. Just some fun with the boys.”

I glanced at my phone. “Sorry, I better—”

Bryce waved a hand. “Go on, get outta here. Go take care of my sister.”

I chuckled. “Thanks, B. See you tomorrow morning.” Our shift started at 8 a.m.

The fire station was only a block from the hardware store and Monica’s apartment, but I parked as quickly as I could. I hadn’t said anything in the text message, but I was a bit concerned about her moving back home. She knew the risks though. As much as I wanted to remind her of them, I knew she wouldn’t appreciate me questioning her decision.

I was going to trust her judgment–and pray that everything would be okay.

She was fiercely independent. Being back in her own space would be a good thing.

If I happened to drop by from time to time to check on her, that was completely understandable, wasn’t it? Since it was so close to the station, it would be easy to find a casual excuse to visit. I probably wasn’t going to convince her to wear one of those life alert buttons, so this would be my next best option.

I jogged up the steps, instinctively skipping the one that made an awful groaning noise that sounded like you were going to fall into the backroom of the store below. I hadn’t been up here in months, but the habit was ingrained enough, even after all this time. I knocked on Monica’s door, breathing a little heavier than normal. Excitement or exertion, I wasn’t sure. Either way, I couldn’t fight the smile on my face when she opened the door.

Her smile matched mine. “Come on in. I’m just unpacking some of my stuff.”

“Feel good to be home?” I let my eyes rove over the familiar space, with the uniquely Monica touch of the surroundings. She had too many throw pillows and art in vibrant colors that made the space feel modern and inviting all at the same time.

My eyes drifted to the sofa, lingering on the memories of evenings spent stretched out there watching cheesy movies.

“So good,” she said with a small twirl in the space. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I should have come sooner. Even if I wasn’t going to stay here, I should have just come to spend time. I think I missed my stuff,” she said with a laugh.

Her joy was infectious, and I couldn’t help but close the space between us.

“Did you miss anything else?” I asked, my arms circling around her waist.

Her smile was soft and inviting. “Maybe,” she admitted.

“Everyone knows about us now,” I said, tipping my head down to look into her eyes. “Are you okay with that?”

She nodded. “I think so. We did this secretly once before, right? Let’s see if it works with everything out in the open.”

“I’ll make it work however you want,” I said earnestly. During my coffee with Garrett, he’d advised the same approach. I would follow Monica’s lead, but also, no more secrets.

I was dying to kiss her. I felt myself closing the distance, unable to resist the magnetic pull of her lips. She tipped her head up farther. An inch away, I paused. “Are you sure?” My whisper was gruffer than I intended, my mouth and throat dry with anticipation. I didn’t want to jump the gun or force her to do anything she wasn’t ready for. I would wait as long as it took. If there was a glimmer of hope that she’d catch up to where my feelings were, I could push through.

Instead of an answer, Monica pressed upward, closing the distance between our mouths and stealing the breath right out of me. A groan escaped my throat, the audible release of weeks of pent-up longing, prayers, and hope that this moment would come.

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