And it feels all too right.

So right that it occurs to me—for the first time in ages, I’m not thinking about my lack of interest in relationships. I’m not considering how to avoid entanglements. I’m definitely not dwelling on how to keep someone at a distance. I’m thinking about how I want her all the way in.

And I don’t know how to get her there.

41

I’m rarely at a loss for words. I traffic in them, I juggle them, and I spin them into different combinations, whether with my mouth or my pen. But tonight, I’m not certain I remember how to make the shape of them on my tongue.

Words evade me as we catch a Lyft to the swank cocktail party in a ballroom at the Luxe Hotel. Maybe that’s because there are too many words jostling around my mind, squeezing hard against my heart.

Perhaps that’s the issue.

Words are taking over in a mad alphabet soup. Words I never intended to attach to myself. To my emotions. And as for those pesky things—didn’t my emotions get the memo that I banished them long ago?

I’ve been following a stoic plan for ages, marching forward, and part of that plan was avoiding this kind of wild rampage in my heart.

Too late.

I feel it. I feel it everywhere.

The last time I felt anything remotely close to this, I was blindsided by my ex.

But then, as Chip said, heartbreak doesn’t have to break you. It can be the best thing that ever happens to you.

Looking at Truly on the way to the party, all I can think is he’s so damn right, because the words that tango on my lips feel like they’re comprised of four letters, and those are the most dangerous words of all.

Falling for Truly means falling for the one person who’d wildly complicate my life.

And yet . . . I don’t want to turn away from whatever is brewing between us.

When we reach the hotel and head into the elevator, I locate words again. I face her, take both her hands in mine, link our fingers, and meet her gaze. “I know we said we’d figure this out. I know we said we’d get this out of our system, but I really can’t foresee a world where you’re out of my system.”

For a second, I hold my breath, hoping I haven’t scared away the woman who values her space, the woman who’s already beholden—to Gin Joint.

But the look in her eyes nearly knocks me to my knees. It says everything. That I’m not alone. That she’s feeling all of this too.

Maybe this is what happens when two workaholics meet their match.

She strokes her thumb across my jaw, making me shudder with desire and longing for her. She inches her face closer to mine and whispers, “I don’t want to live in a world where you’re out of my system. What are we going to do about that?”

“I don’t have a clue. But let’s try to figure it out soon, yeah?”

She smiles and whispers “Yes” against my lips. A yes that thrums through my whole body and beats in my heart.

Once inside, I shake off all these new sensations, because it’s time to focus on business and being here for the man of the hour. Enzo moved to the States mere months ago and hardly knows anyone, so my job is to be his wingman in a world where his woman knows everyone.

As Valerie works the room, Enzo leans effortlessly against the bar, surveying the glittering crowd in the chandelier-encrusted ballroom. “Ah, when I was growing up, a poor boy in Madrid, I never imagined this might be my life.”

I raise a glass. “It’s a good life.”

“I have a solid job, the love of a fantastic woman, and I’m starting to make new friends in a new town.”

“I’d say your job is more than solid, mate. It’s pretty damn secure.”

He flashes that grin, and somewhere, someone with a camera snaps it. “But is it though? Is any job truly secure? Is yours secure?”

“You got me there. My work is anything but secure,” I answer.

He raises his champagne glass. “To insecurity in work.”

I clink my glass to his, since nothing feels truer than the utter lack of reliability I’m experiencing on the business front. His comment is a reminder that I haven’t heard a word from Ryder, and he usually books me by the end of one week for the next one. My shoulders tighten in worry. Even if I didn’t win the full-time gig, I hope I’m not losing the part-time one on his show.

But tonight I’m here for Enzo, not me.

Enzo glances toward Truly, who’s chatting with Troy and Sully. “But perhaps there is no insecurity in love?”

I shoot him a look. “What do you mean?”

“You’re funny. Maybe you think it’s not obvious.”

“What’s not obvious?”

“She’s more than your date.”

I could deny it. I could lie. But I don’t want to pretend with this. “Let’s hope so.”

Valerie marches over, raises a glass of champagne, and offers a toast to us. “To my kind and thoughtful husband-to-be and his very charming best man. Now, what is it that you men were discussing? Sports cars, stealth bombers, aftershave, and other exceedingly masculine things?”

Enzo smiles. “I was simply telling him that I think he needs to sort out his feelings for a certain lady.”

“You’re kind to worry about my romantic affairs, but I swear I’m fine. Let’s focus on this fantastic union,” I say deflecting, deflecting, and then deflecting some more.

Valerie swings her gaze around to Truly then back to me. “Do you know what I’ve learned about men?”

“What have you learned, my love?” Enzo asks.

She points to his eyes, then to mine. “I’ve learned that it’s all in the eyes. That’s how you read them. That’s how you can tell. When I work on deals, I always look a person in the eyes. They never lie. Yours never did,” she says to Enzo. Then to me, “And when I look at yours, and I see the way you gaze at that woman, all your truths are self-evident. Inescapable.”

“Maybe they are,” I muse.

Enzo nudges her. “Just as we predicted.”

“We did,” she says. “We can always tell when love is blooming.”

“Good skill,” I remark, because what else is there to say? She’s right. For me, at least.