Page 134 of The One

FORTY-THREE

Rhett

Present Day

My stomach was a fucking mess as I stood outside Lainey’s apartment building, scrolling through the call box until I found her name, pressing the number beside it.

Two rings passed before she picked up. “Hi.”

“It’s Rhett.”

“I know. I can see you.” She laughed. “I’m in apartment 611.”

“I know.”

“Of course you do. I’ll buzz you in.”

When the front entrance unlocked, I walked to the elevator, taking it to the sixth floor, my hand barely knocking on the door when it opened.

Lainey stood in the entryway, holding the frame, and her eyes locked with mine. Her chest rose and fell and rose again before she finally said, “I just posted the photo to Instagram last night. I’m assuming you saw it, and that’s why you’re here?”

She was certainly creative.

I’d barely held my shit together when I saw it, the urge to come here almost outweighing my responsibilities.

“If I hadn’t had important meetings all day today, I would have skipped work and come this morning.”

“But you came.” Her expression was soft, her voice light.

And I knew in that moment, I’d read her post on Instagram the way she had intended.

A post that hit me so goddamn hard, I felt my entire life change.

I loosened my tie. I hadn’t even bothered to go home; I’d just come straight here from the office. “And miss an opportunity to spend time with you? Fuck that.” I smiled.

She smiled back and opened the door wider. “Come in.”

I stepped inside the apartment, a little taken aback that I was in Lainey’s space. For so many years, I’d wondered what her life looked like. That I was here, that I was getting a glimpse—that was hard to wrap my head around.

“I haven’t finished unpacking and decorating.” She joined me in the foyer. “Please ignore the disaster. I know how bad it looks, and I really wish you weren’t seeing it this way?—”

“It’s perfect.”

“You’re being nice.”

“It’s perfect,” I emphasized again. “I mean it. I can see you all over the room. Whether your shit is in boxes or your art is sitting on the floor, that doesn’t matter. It smells like you in here, and it feels like you in here.”

“Smells?”

While she was looking toward the living room, my focus was on her. My gaze dipped to her toes before slowly rising to her face. The yoga pants and tank top were showing every curve I’d been missing.

“Roses.”

“Ah. That. Yes.” She hugged her stomach and looked at me. “A scent I haven’t been able to give up.”

I wanted so fucking badly to reach for her, but I shoved my hands in my pockets instead. “I hope you never do.”

She grinned.