I park the car in the driveway just as the front door flies open. Max stands in the doorway with the same shit-eating grin he had when we were teenagers. I climb out of the car as a smile stretches across my own lips.
The movement feels almost foreign to me, as if my face doesn’t quite remember how to curve my mouth upward.
“Sacha, you dirty old bastard. Get over here!”
Max has gained a bit of weight around his middle, but otherwise looks unchanged. He always had a smile that could disarm the most guarded of people, and eyes that would get us into—and out of—all kinds of mischief.
My best friend wraps his arms around me in a bone-crushing hug. He grunts, holding me close.
“It’s good to see you, bud.”
“Same,” I say, backing up as I rough my hands through my hair. When was the last time someone hugged me? I’m not sure I can remember.
I glance at the house, seeing the silhouette of a woman walk across the living room windows.
Don’t ask about Willow. Don’t ask about Willow. Don’t ask about Willow.
“Where’s your sister?”
Fuck.
Max arches an eyebrow. “She moved out a couple of years ago, man. Got her own place. You remember Mrs. Warshawski, the old English teacher?”
I nod.
“Willow bought her house after she died.”
“The big house on the other side of town?” My eyebrows jump up. No one says it, but the ‘other side of town’ is synonymous with the ‘rich side of town.’ Also known as the side of town where my parents live.
Not that I’m going to head over there to visit. I’m staying as far away from that cesspit as I can.
Max laughs. “Willow’s a smart businesswoman. Lots of money in wedding planning—as Isabelle and I are finding out. We’ve had to double our budget already, and we’re not even doing anything extravagant. If I could convince Isabelle to just go on a road trip to Vegas with me, I’d be happy.”
“I hope Willow’s giving you a discount.” I grin. Even saying her name sends a spark of heat zipping down my spine. I inhale, looking away from my best friend. I shouldn’t be thinking about his sister like that. Willow’s off-limits, and I can’t forget that.
Max nods to the front door. “You need help with your bags?”
“Oh, I figured I’d stay at a hotel. It’s only a few nights, and I’ll be leaving again on Monday. Three nights at a hotel isn’t a big deal. I didn’t want to impose.”
“What?” Max frowns, laughing as he shakes his head. “No way. Isabelle!” he calls out.
A woman’s head pops out of the door. She has cropped, dark brown hair and full lips that are almost too big for her face. “Hi!” She waves, flashing a brilliant smile at us. I raise my hand toward her and glance at Max. He’s beaming.
“Isabelle, this is Sacha. Come bring him inside while I grab his bags. Sneaky fucker was trying to wriggle his way out of staying with us.”
“Well, we can’t be having that.” She laughs, walking barefoot toward us as we stand in the driveway. I can’t remember when I last saw someone walking barefoot outdoors. I’ve lived in the city for far too long.
Max’s fiancée surprises me when she wraps her arms around me. She pulls back, keeping her hands on my upper arms as she searches my face. Her eyes are kind, and her smile is easy.
She’s pretty much the opposite of me.
“So, you’re the famous Sacha Black. I was starting to think Max had made you up.” She smiles warmly at me, and the tightness in my chest eases ever so slightly.
For the first time in a decade, I feel like I’m coming home.
Ignoring my protests, Max grabs my bag from the trunk of the car. The two of them lead me inside, and I slip my keys into my pocket. I slip my fingers over the USB key, the movement calming me. Then, I head for the front door. I’m not prepared for the assault on my emotions that awaits me on the other side.
Everywhere I look, memories flood my brain. Good ones. Bad ones. Trivial ones.
Right there is the corner of the coffee table where I split my head open while Max and I wrestled at thirteen years old. Over there is where I would sit with the Wise family for dinner whenever my own parents forgot about me as they left town on business or worked late.
The same faded, brown couch dominates the living room, where I kissed Willow Wise for the first and only time, ten years ago.
I jerk my eyes away from it, forcing a smile on my lips. “Hasn’t changed in here at all.”
“We’re saving up to redo the kitchen,” Isabelle explains, brushing her hands down her pants. “Tea? Coffee? Water?”
“Beer?” Max grins.
“Beer sounds good.”
My best friend takes a seat on the sofa, and I take care not to touch it as I sit on the old Laz-y-Boy recliner in the corner. If I sit next to him on that couch, I know I’ll be thinking of Willow.
The way she looked when she sat there, beside me, asking to be kissed. The way my body trembled against hers. The way she made me feel alive when she pressed her lips to mine.
The way it tore me apart to leave without looking back.
Isabelle appears with three beers, handing one to me, one to Max, and keeping one for herself. She nestles in on the sofa next to Max, who slings his arm around her shoulders.
“So, getting married, huh?” I ask, nodding to them as I lean my head back against the recliner. “You’re a lucky man.”
Isabelle blushes, shaking her head. “I’m a lucky woman. Max is one of the good ones.”
I grunt in acknowledgement, taking another sip of beer. The bitter, golden liquid pours down my throat and causes my shoulders to relax.
“So, how’s the restaurant? I saw you were featured in Bon Appetit!” Max whistles. “Big leagues. Never thought Sacha Black would be the head chef at a Michelin-starred restaurant.”
I chuckle. “It’s going well. We’ve got a good team.”
“Mom always said you had a gift for cooking.” Max smiles sadly. “Too bad your parents couldn’t see it.”
“They didn’t want to.” I take another swig of beer and then clear my throat. “So, four weeks, huh? You must be excited.”
“For the wedding?” Isabelle laughs. “Mostly exhausted. I never thought it’d be so much work to plan it.”
“Hope that guy’s helping you out.” I point my bottle at my best friend, who gives me that same grin I remember from our childhood.
This is fine.
Everything is okay.
Willow isn’t here, and I can enjoy my best friend’s company. There’s nothing to stress about. I’m just here to visit Max for his bachelor’s party.
Nothing more.
All going well, I’ll be gone by Monday without even seeing Willow Wise, and then I won’t need to worry about her until I’m back here for the wedding. Then, I can just avoid her during the ceremony and leave early the next day. I’ll make up some excuse about needing to be at the restaurant.
Easy.
Simple.
Clean.
But just like everything in my life, things are not easy, simple, and clean. Nothing ever goes according to plan. I can’t even manage one weekend in my hometown without feeling like my stomach is falling out of my ass.
Because right when I think I’m getting comfortable, the front door opens, and my heart stops.
I hear her voice before I see her. The wind blows a gust of air inside, carrying the scent of vanilla and strawberries toward me.
The same scent that has lingered in my dreams for a decade. The smell of my teenage obsession. Of my first love.
The scent of heartbreak.
Willow turns the corner into the living room, and my heart falters.
I wasn’t ready for this. Even if I thought I was ready, I was kidding myself. Willow Wise is ten years older, but she’s still the same girl I knew when I left this godforsaken town.
No, she’s not the same. She’s dressed in black from head to toe. Gon
e are the mismatched socks and glittery scrunchies in her hair. She doesn’t look like a unicorn threw up all over her.
She’s different.
She’s better.
I left her as a gangly, awkward teenager with eyes that were too big for her face, and I’ve come back to the woman of my dreams.
Doe-eyed, full-lipped, with curves in all the right places. A goddess. Too good to walk among mortals. Too beautiful to look at without feeling like the world is tilting on its axis.
Her eyes are drawn to mine, just as mine are drawn to hers. The words die on her lips as they fall open, and all I can think of is how they would taste to kiss.
“Sacha.” Her voice is strangled, and her smile slips off her face.
I stand up, letting my arms hang loosely by my sides. “Hey, Frogface.”
* * *
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Also by Lilian Monroe
For all books, visit:
www.lilianmonroe.com
Brother’s Best Friend Romance
Shouldn’t Want You
Military Romance
His Vow
His Oath
His Word
The Complete Protector Series
Enemies to Lovers Romance
Hate at First Sight
Loathe at First Sight
Despise at First Sight
Secret Baby Romance:
Knocked Up by the CEO
Knocked Up by the Single Dad
Knocked Up… Again!
Knocked Up By the Billionaire’s Son
The Complete Knocked Up Series
Knocked Up by Prince Charming
Knocked Up by Prince Dashing
Knocked Up by Prince Gallant
Knocked Up by the Broken Prince
Knocked Up by the Wicked Prince
Fake Engagement/ Fake Marriage Romance:
Engaged to Mr. Right
Engaged to Mr. Wrong
Engaged to Mr. Perfect
Mr Right: The Complete Fake Engagement Series
Mountain Man Romance:
Lie to Me
Swear to Me
Run to Me
The Complete Clarke Brothers Series
Extra-Steamy Rock Star Romance:
Garrett
Maddox
Carter
The Complete Rock Hard Series
Sexy Doctors:
Doctor O
Doctor D
Doctor L
The Complete Doctor’s Orders Series
Time Travel Romance:
The Cause
A little something different:
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* * *
Knocked Up by the Wrong Prince: An Accidental Pregnancy Romance Page 20
