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When Quinn pulled into the parking lot in front of the glass-front building, Nick was already there, lounging on his dropped tailgate. Freshly showered and dressed in jeans and a nice tee that showed off his newly worked-out muscles, he made her heart thump against her ribs. Deep breaths, girl.
She grabbed her keys, pocketed her phone, and went to meet him. He hopped off the tailgate and shut it. Hands in his pockets, he took a few steps toward her as he watched her approach. The circles under his eyes were new, but his crooked grin and bright forgiving baby blues looked hopeful and broke through her nervous shell to the center of her heart. She smiled her own crooked grin.
Seconds ticked by. Then he nodded toward the gallery. “So, what’s the first order of business, Madam Q?”
Her chest warmed. She held up her gallery key between her thumb and forefinger, the rest dangling against her palm. “Unlocking the door.”
Leaving his hands in his pockets, an odd distant gesture for him, he moved toward the gallery. “Let’s get to it.”
Her nerves were like live wires sparking electricity in the air as they trekked the short distance to the door. He wouldn’t just forget what she’d done no matter how badly she wished it. She’d hurt him, so a certain amount of healing would have to happen first. She stepped up on the sidewalk in front of the gallery door.
“What brought this on?” Hands still tucked into his pockets, he stepped up to meet her.
“Well, last August, this guy asked me out for coffee. I guess it’s been coming on since then.”
“Sounds like a great guy.”
“Yeah, he even asked me for my phone number.”
“Bold.”
Laughter and smiles. It was good to see a spark return to his eyes.
She ran her hand down his forearm, then pulled his hand free, and gripped it with both of hers. “He is a great guy. Thank you for coming. I was afraid you wouldn’t.”
“Quinn.” He squeezed her hand, wrapping his other one around them, stroking her knuckles with his thumb. “I will always be here for you.”
She hadn’t lost him. Thank God.
Still holding hands, the moment quite awkward—but a nice awkward—he motioned with his head toward the door. “Go for it.”
She dropped his hands to get the key in the lock, then stood there, fingers on the key unready to turn. She took a deep breath.
His hand touched her back, and those live wires ran over her skin. “I’m right here. You’re ready for this.”
“Actually...” She dropped her hand, leaving her keys hanging from the door.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
His sincerity tugged at her. After everything, he still cared for her and was willing to show it. She stared through the dirty window at the empty gallery. “I have to do something before I unlock this part of my life. I want everything to be perfect when I open this door.” She tipped her head up at him, aching at the tightness furrowing his brow. “And everything is not perfect.”
He shifted his feet and peered down at the hands they’d somehow clasped together. “We don’t have to do this now. I don’t want this to be a shadow on your big day.”
“This isn’t my big day because I’m opening this door. It’s our big day because I’m opening this one.”
Using his hands as leverage, she raised up, brought her face close, and let her mouth hover near his for the span of a breath. In that span, his breath caught, and his body tensed. When she was sure he wouldn’t turn away, she brushed her lips against his. Then the world fell away as he closed his eyes and joined his lips to hers. While his hands went around the small of her back cradling her against him, she slid her arms around his neck, her fingers rustling his short hair.
He breathed a whisper against her lips. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Forehead crinkling, he pulled back and cupped her face in his hands. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It was me. I did this.”
She clasped her hands around his. “No. I ran away. I hurt you.”
“Only because I hurt you.”
All this time, she thought she’d ruined everything, and he’d thought the same. Their silliness had them both laughing.
His image blurred beyond her tear-lined lashes. “I’ll forgive you if you forgive me.”
“It’s already done.” Relief smoothed out his face as he kissed her again. Then he brushed his nose against hers. “Is everything perfect now, Q?”
She responded without opening her eyes. “Perfectly peaceful.”
“Then let’s unlock this door.”
Right. The door. That’s what they were here for. Partly. She dragged herself away from her prime reason, his hand warm on her back as she turned the key. The golden bell tinkling above the gallery door, no longer a haunted memory, welcomed her in. She stepped inside, and the wooden floor creaked its hello. With closed eyes, she breathed in the familiar old-building smell. “I’m home.”
Then she took his hand, and they began rebuilding more than the gallery.
