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He rubs the back of his neck. “I know. The buyer is only in town today, so I can’t reschedule.”

“It’s fine.”

I try to sound unbothered because what right do I have to be upset at him leaving? It’s not like I own him, and he doesn’t owe me his attention. And yet, I’ve gotten so used to it these last few weeks that it feels like he is mine. There’s this possessiveness that has woven its way into my skin that I hadn’t even noticed until now.

God damn it. Everything he’s done to win me over…it actually worked.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He gives my shoulder a squeeze before letting his fingers trail down my arm to my hand and squeezing that as well.

As I watch him begin to jog down the street, the regret that pierces my heart tells me one thing: Hannah might be right, I shouldn’t let him go.

And maybe it’s all the mimosas I’ve drunk, but in a fit of desperation, I yell, “See you tomorrow!”

CHAPTER THIRTY

CULLEN

Seeing Verity first thing in the morning makes trekking to the opposite end of the city worth it.

I watch as the door to her apartment building opens, and she emerges in a dark gray pinstripe dress with a white shirt underneath, her black loafers pounding on the brick steps down to the street. The blue tote bag I got her is slung over her shoulder, giving me a sense of satisfaction. She is wearing her hair up in a ponytail today, and I instantly zero in on the slope of her bare neck. But what I focus on the most is that she isn’t wearing her headphones.

“Morning.”

I hold out the coffee cup in my hand for her, waiting to see what she’ll do.

She offers me a tentative smile, taking the paper cup.

“Morning.”

The thrill coursing through my veins at that one word has me wanting to fall to my knees and throw my hands up to the sky in victory. It’s a win unlike any I’ve had before—more satisfying than the deal I woke up to in my inbox for a building I’ve been working on selling.

This past weekend with Verity had seemed like we were on the right track, but I know how easy it is for her to fall back into her routine. I had my doubts. I knew there was a chance that whenI saw her this morning, she would go back to ignoring me and claim that the weekend was a momentary lapse in judgement.

Except, she spoke to me.

I feel like I’m back in middle school with a schoolyard crush, getting excited over the girl I like looking my way.

“What is it?” She gives the coffee a sniff, and the joy in my heart continues to beat at her furthering the conversation.

“Give it a taste.”

We fall into step side by side, another win. Every other morning, Verity has taken action to speed walk at the pace of an Olympic champion to keep at least six feet in front of me lest anyone see us together. There is a sense of calming rightness over us leisurely walking to her subway stop like a normal couple.

I indulge in watching her eyes widen as she takes a sip of her coffee, an unbridled smile pulling at my lips.

“Ooh, that’s good! I can’t tell what it is though.” She frowns, taking another sip. “It’s kind of nutty but sweet. Pecan, maybe?”

“Pistachio praline.”

“Seriously?” She holds the coffee cup before her and twists it around to find the name stamped onto the light blue paper cup. She pulls out her phone and snaps a picture, murmuring, “Sky Coffee House. Totally adding this to my list of places.”

“I thought you’d like it.”

“I like anything pistachio flavored.”

“I know.”

She looks up at me shyly, trying to hide her small smile behind the coffee lid.