The Ex Files (Ocean View, #1)

by Morgan Elizabeth

I was raised in a loving household with happily married parents and two older sisters. My dad taught me how to wine and dine, throw a ball, and get my hands dirty in an engine, but my mom and sisters taught me how to treat a woman. They showed me the ropes: from holding doors open to how to treat a woman when she’s emotional to making them feel good about themselves to the right way to break up. Once, Quinn heard I’d broken up with a high school girlfriend via text message. When my mom picked me up that day, all three were in the car. We sped home and they ripped me a new one, telling me they wouldn’t endure having that kind of man in their family. When I tried to get my dad on my side, he’d sat me down. “Son, one day you’ll have someone in your life, and you’ll realize you’d do anything to keep her happy, even if it means letting her sit your son down and bustin’ his balls with feminist chats and conversations on how to treat a woman. There are worse things, bud. Just accept it. If not for whatever future lady you have in your life, then for your old man who doesn’t want to hear his wife bitchin’ all night about the piece of scum son they’re raising.” “I heard that, Jeffrey!” my mom had called from the other room, my sisters giggling after her, and my dad just rolled his eyes, but the smile was genuine. Because he loved her, and he’d endure this to get her, to keep her happy.

“No man?” “What?” “No man to keep tabs on you?” “I don’t need a man to keep tabs on me.” “You were stuck for an indefinite amount of time in the middle of nowhere with no cell service. If you had a good man, he’d have found you.”

He is an enigma, and I cannot decode him. I’ve never been more uneasy on a date in seven years.

“You have to make a wish,” I say, grabbing my own before popping the plastic. Next, I pull out the orange cookie, snapping it out and slipping the paper from its cookie prison. “What?” “Make a wish. I had a client show me this years ago, and I do it every time now.” I read my fortune cookie aloud. “‘To truly find yourself, you should play hide and seek alone.’” I stare at it for long moments as Luke busts out laughing. I follow him before putting it down. “That one stunk. What does yours say?” He’s cracking his own open and pulling the paper out to read. “‘Your love life will soon be happy and harmonious.’” He looks at me with a smile. “Wow, you work quick, huh?” I laugh. “Okay, so now you have to kiss it and fold it into a heart, making a wish.” “Then what?” “Well… it’s supposed to come true. I don’t know. It’s just a fun superstition.” “Well, you kiss mine. Your lipstick is much prettier,” he says with a smile. “I’ll do yours. Show me how.”

“This is the activity we’re doing.” “Nope.” “What do you mean, ‘nope.’ That’s not how this works. I plan dinner and the activity. You go.” “You’ve never been on a date with me.” When he says this, he’s not looking at me with my hands on my hips and ready to argue. He seems the type to enjoy it, to argue for the fun of it. He’s digging in his pocket while he reaches for my hand, pulling me away from the museum. “Luke!” “Not going to some uptight art museum. Not on a first date, not ever.” “What if the woman I match you up with likes art museums?” “Did I already pass the exam? You know I’m getting added to your roster?” He’s smiling over his shoulder as I move to catch up with him as he guides me along the crowded streets. It’s dark, but it's easy to see where we're going with the streetlights and lights from restaurants and stores. Towards the boardwalk. “What? No, I just-” “Do you like going to art museums?” I can’t lie. Because honestly, most of the time, I find them quite dull, but they tell a lot about a person. “Not particularly, but that’s not—” “Sweetheart, if you set me up with a woman who loves art museums and expects to drag my ass to them regularly, you didn’t do your job right.”

At that moment, I make my decision. I’m going to keep her. I’m going to keep this woman. Fuck her matching me up. That spark flared last night. After spending a night across from her, watching her get frustrated with me when I wouldn’t play her game, I watched her guard fall—tiny bits at a time. As I watched her interact with my friends, watching her slowly relax, that spark spread, catching first on the tinder and burning to a warm blaze. I just need her to realize that she’s burning up, too.

“One, I go on two dates and two dates only. Two, we never go to my place, and I never go to theirs. Three, never ever, ever kiss a client. And four, which, really, is a good life rule, never ever ever get attached.”

Lucas Dawson shook up my perfectly curated world in a way I never saw coming. The four rules I created when I built my business dating men to vet them for other women were to protect myself. If I set those rules, follow the structure, don’t deviate from them, I can’t get hurt. If I keep myself detached, never fall for the bullshit of a man, I’ll always be able to see past the hearts and flowers and deceit. Never get so caught up in the beauty of falling in love that I miss all the warning signs.

His laugh comes from his belly, something I noticed last night when he held me close to him in the crowded bar. He has three kinds of laughs from what I saw. The first is a chuckle he paired with a head shake when I said something he disagreed with or he thought I was being silly. The second is the fake one he used on the server when she got a bit too close and brushed her hand on his arm. And a third—a big belly laugh accompanied by the happiness which shone from his eyes and a huge, genuine smile. All three brought out the dimple in his left cheek. Jesus, now I’m dissecting the man’s laughs?

“So, what’s option three?” “Option three?” “You bring a man to a museum; what’s option three?” I pause, unsure if I should answer. “Option three is new. It’s when the man decides there’s no way in hell he’s going to a museum and takes me to a bar trivia night with his friends.” My voice is low when I answer, and I’m silent for long moments while I wait for his reply. “What’s the verdict on that?” And for some unknown reason, I answer without running the words through the filter I normally use when talking with clients. When talking with anyone, really. “Undecided.” His laugh flows through the line and through my veins, filling it with the warmth he always seems to bring. My ears feel hot as I flit my eyes to Gabrielle and see she has a small smile on her lips as she watches me. “Alright, well, when you decide, you let me know.”

“Cassie, I’m not trying to scare you, but….” I take a deep breath, wondering what she’ll say. “I don’t think he’s in this for a match.” “Well, no. His sisters set this up.” “No, I know that. But if your sisters set you up with a matchmaker, you do the date, get it done with, and tell them it didn’t work. You don’t make it magical, don’t kiss her, don’t make her break her rules and insist on going out on the weekend.” I’ve put blinders on so I can ignore this fact. She’s not wrong, but if I look at it that way, if I start to think… “I can’t. No. This is a client. It has to stay that way.” “Why?” The question floors me. No one has ever bothered to ask. “My father lied to my mom, kept it up for twenty years, and when it was all said and done, she was destroyed. I can’t let it happen to me. I won’t let anyone hold that much power over me. Not for good or bad. Because it always ends badly. Even the ones that seem like fairytales.” “Okay, then why The Ex Files? You don’t believe a relationship can last, but you help create them?” “I can’t stop people from wanting to find love. What I can do is make sure the women who use my services are equipped with the knowledge to protect themselves.” Gabi stares at me, nods, but then keeps on digging. “Well, who said it has to be forever? Who said it has to be serious? Couldn’t you just… have fun with him? Enjoy spending time with someone?” I don’t tell her I’ve been asking myself the same all day because yesterday was fun. And tonight, goss...

“How’s your day goin’?” “Uh. It’s uh… okay?” ”Mine’s been shit.” I move again when a large man with killer B.O. smacks into me. “Oh, I’m sorry, why?” “Mind is all over the place, can’t concentrate on anything.” “Yeah, I know the feeling,” I say, thinking about the blinking line on the email I opened this morning and still haven’t written. “Seems to be an ailment that’s going around.” “Pretty brown-eyed girl runnin’ through my mind non-stop.” Once again, I stop in my tracks. This time it’s a pretty woman in a business suit smacking into my back. “Learn to walk!” she shouts at me as she moves around me. “What was that?” “I uh, I tripped.”

“I wear heels. I date people for a living. Heels make a woman look feminine. Pretty.” The words come out tasting of the acid in my stomach, but I persevere, the coffee shop now in my line of sight. “That’s stupid.” “No, it’s not.” “A woman in flats says she’s comfortable with who she is. Not trying to impress anyone.” “So you don’t like a woman in heels?” I ask. “Oh, I love when a woman wears heels.” “Then why—” “A woman in heels is sexy as fuck. A man looks at a woman in heels, he instantly thinks about wrapping them around his back or bending her over to fuck her from behind while she’s still wearing them—” “Luke! Not every—” “Every man, sweetheart. And I guaran-fuckin’-tee every man who has seen you in your heels with your pretty skirts and your tight dresses has thought the same thing.” “There’s no way—” “I sure as fuck did that first time, side of the road. Bending you over the hood of your car, eating you while they dug into my back.” Any remaining drive to argue his point, to cut him off, has completely evaporated in the heat of unexpected lust running through me. For a split second, a reel of images runs through my mind, images that are absolutely filthy starring this all-American man whom I never in a million years would have pictured saying this to me. I bite my lip as the center of my panties grows suspiciously damn. “But a woman in flats?” His voice is lower now, growly and untamed, similar to how he said goodbye after our last date. After that kiss. “A woman i...

“You need to slow down. Take in the world around you. You need to stop rushing through everything, stop worrying about what’s coming next, what’s going to happen.”

“Shit, Cass. Bedroom?” I stare at him for long moments. “You say no and this ends. You say no, I’m out that door, and you won’t have to deal with me again. But you say yes, and I’m carrying you to your room and fucking you until you don’t have any headspace left to overthink how fuckin’ good this is between us.”

“How does what work?” He’s smiling at me like he knows what I’m asking but wants me to say it out loud. He seems to do this a lot, push my boundaries and make me open up. “This… third date thing.” “We’re dating.” “What does that mean?” He stares at me, part confused, part delighted by the conversation. “You don’t know what dating means? Aren’t you a matchmaker?” I roll my eyes in response. “I know what dating is, but this is… unconventional. We’re temporary. Just until the wedding.” “You can think that.” I ignore him. “So, for the next two weeks, how does this work? Am I a booty call? Do we like… do things?” My fingers tear at the napkin as I ask, trying to avoid his eyes. Why am I so embarrassed by this? He’s right—I set people up for a living. This should be easy for me. But it’s not. Nothing with this man goes as I expect it to go. Everything about him is confusing to me. A finger goes under my chin, and when my eyes meet his, there’s frustration, anger in them. “You are not a booty call.” “So we’re not… going to… do this…” — my hands flit between us — “again?” Why am I disappointed I’m not sleeping with a match again? But he smiles, the full ‘Cassie’s being goofy’ smile with the dimple before his thumb moves to brush the corner of my mouth. “Oh, we’re most definitely doing that again.” “So I’m a booty call.” “You call yourself that again, I’m gonna get pissed. You’re not a booty call. This is you giving me a shot.” “Luke…” “Call it what you want. But for two weeks, you...

“I convinced her to give me a third. In two weeks, for her dad’s wedding. So we’re… tentatively together for the next two weeks.” “Just two weeks?” “I know it’s going to be more than two weeks. She doesn’t.”

“Look, I get it. But if she’s hesitant, is it smart to get caught up in that? Not to mention, she might get really pissed when those two weeks are over and you’re expecting more.” I nod. Because she will, undoubtedly. She’s convinced herself she’s fine alone, that she’s happy setting others up and getting nothing for herself. But I know she feels it too. “Yeah, but if the reason she says no is she’s scared, wouldn’t it make sense to ease her into it? Let her get used to it in a way she’s comfortable with?” Tara asks. That’s what I was thinking. “It just seems like a situation where everyone could get hurt.” “But isn’t there also the chance for everyone to win? And isn’t that the point of it all? That careful balance when you’re falling in love. One wrong step, and it’s all over. But if you can walk the tightrope together, it’s beautiful.” “But every part of this could be the mistake which ends it. I don’t know. I don’t know the girl. But if she’s hesitant and nervous already…,” her voice trails off.

“So let’s ignore the fact I could get hurt. Let’s pretend that it’s less a question about if she’ll be okay with me and date me for real, but when.” My sisters look at each other, then at me. “In that case, how do I play this?” They do some kind of mental talk I could never do, some bond I think must be formed between sisters, before Quinn nods, and they both turn to me. “You need to try,” Quinn says. “Got that. What else.” “You need to make her feel safe and wanted.” That’s Tara. “And like you’ll fight for her. Let her know, but don’t push it until you have to.” “Anything too much is going to scare her off for sure.” “Honestly, Luke—just be you. Be you and she’ll fall for you. You’re sweet, kind. You make everyone happy. And if the look in your eyes tells me anything, it says you’ve already shown her that. You just need to wait until that guard drops and catch her when it does.” I stare at them, strangely relieved they’ve confirmed my fears, until Quinn speaks again. “And Luke, when it goes bad, when you inevitably fumble it—because you’re a man and that’s bound to happen…” I roll my eyes, but she keeps on. “Come to us. We’ll help. We’ll help you win her.” Staring at them, I nod, thankful more today than ever to have two older sisters who want to see me happy. As we trudge up the basement stairs, I can’t help but wonder what will happen when she realizes I never intended to let her go.

I may have teased him about it, but I love these break-time calls. It’s a tiny blip of sunshine in my once monotonous days.

“So what about tonight? Can you meet up?” “That’s against the rules.” “What rule is that?” “You can’t date more than once in three days.” I feel Gabi’s eyes flick to me at the mention of my rules. “That’s a dumb rule.” “It keeps men interested.” My rules have been crafted from research, psychology journals, and studying what works and what gets a girl ghosted. They work. But they’re not for women to share with men, so I’m not sure why I keep revealing all of my rules to him. “You don’t need to do anything to keep me interested, sweetheart. You’re all I can think about.”

“You might know red flags, but I know green ones. And this man is a fuckin’ leprechaun.”

“Oh, my God, he calls you sweetheart! That is so, so cute!” “He also called me a stalker, thanks to you.” “Oh, shut up. Oh my God, his photos on Instagram are so cute. His nieces! He accepted you, by the way. Cassie, if you fuck this up, I’m taking him for myself.” The woods tumble before I can filter them. “No way, he’s mine.”

What no one tells you about growing up is while finding a relationship, a boyfriend, or husband, or partner might be difficult, finding friends without the forced proximity of school and classes is really, really hard. Especially when the friends you did have either move or walk down different life paths, like marriage and kids. And when you own your own business with no one you’re actively working with day in and out, like I was for years, you become isolated. Dating services for relationships exist everywhere, but what women really need is a dating service for friends.

“This is my job, Luke,” she says softly, breaking the silence. I look down at her as we continue walking. “What?” “This is my job. I go on dates. I meet men. Good, bad, everything in between. It’s just another reason I don’t date.” Her eyes are stuck straight ahead. “What are you saying?” “I don’t know. I’m saying… I’m saying I can’t change everything because we have some kind of… arrangement.” The word digs into me, grating against nerves. Arrangement. She and I both know this is more than some convenient arrangement. More than three dates, more than three weeks. I just need her to accept it, to understand I’m not going anywhere. I’m not the same scum she’s afraid of falling for. But I also know right now is not the time to push this. To push her. “I know your job, Cass. Know it and think it’s great. Great you built it all by yourself, that people trust you.” As I’m speaking, she stops in her tracks, turning to face me. We’re blocking traffic on the sidewalk, but I don’t care as I pull her closer to me and keep talking. “I think it’s amazing you take the crappy part of dating and meeting people out of the equation for people who just want to find their person. I think you’re beautiful, inside and out, and the business you’ve built is a sign of that.” She blinks at me a few times, mouth parted, and she looks so sweet, so beautiful, all I want to do is kiss her, but she speaks before I can. “But… you saw me tonight. On a date. And you… Luke, you lost your mind.” “It wasn’t ...

“I just… I was thinking.” “This doesn’t sound good. Maybe you should stop thinkin’.”

“Don’t pull this shit on me. You can play everyone else in your life, in the world, but not me.” God, I wish he were wrong. I wish I could hide it all from him: my thoughts, my feelings, my heart. But knowing this man won’t let me into the car until I explain, I sigh.

“I’m anxious about this weekend.” The truth. The truth in its most basic form. So long as he doesn’t dig too much, we’re good. “What, with your dad?” Sure, yeah. Let’s go with that. Let’s go with the fact I’m anxious about seeing my dad and his family and the newest step monster and enduring all of their bullshit. I say nothing. I don’t want to outright lie to him. Not to Luke. But he makes the deduction I’m praying he will, face softening with concern and comfort. “Oh, sweetheart.” A hand goes to the side of my head, pushing the hair behind my ear. “It’s all going to be fine. Nothing bad is going to happen.” I nod halfheartedly before he presses his lips to my forehead, unlocking the truck, and he helps me in, but he’s wrong. He’s so, so wrong. Because I fucked up and I fell for this man, and I am going to get hurt, and I will never, ever be fine again.

But she proved to me even if you do your best to be everything for a man, there’s just no guarantee he’ll be yours forever.

But truth be told, I’ve never questioned her long, drawn-out heartbreak. How would I know what it’s like to be lied to your whole life, to live for a man only to have it all be a falsehood? But recently, I find myself wondering more and more. Because sure, her heart was broken, and my dad was the scum of the earth to her, but looking back, there were signs. Red flags. And maybe that’s the reality—there are always red flags. It’s just the shade of red and the size of the flag that matters. But if you put on rose-colored glasses, the shades of red all mesh together.

“You’re beautiful.” He says it without hesitation. “You have to say that.” He pulls me back to look at me, and there’s frustration on his face. “I absolutely do not. Not by any means. But you are, Cassie. You’re beautiful inside and out. Curves in all the right places that any man sees and instantly pictures in his bed. Hair you want to run your hands through. A fuckin’ flawless face. And you’re kind and sweet and hardworking. Perfect package, baby.” “I’m—” “I have sisters.” He stops there, and I move my head from his chest to look at him with confusion on my face. “I know that, honey.” “I have sisters, so I know how easy it is for the world to make you feel less than. Saw it happen with Quinny, with Tara. I’m their brother, but from a pure bystander point of view, I know they’re gorgeous. But they still struggled. And when they hit a time when they thought they weren’t the everything they very much are, they had my dad reminding them they’re gorgeous. Mom whispering to them late at night about how to get over it, teaching them to be confident. You…” He pushes the hair behind my ear with a sympathetic look. “You didn’t have that. You’ve told me about how your dad wasn’t there. You’ve told me about your mom and her diets. I’m sure she knew, in some way. Knew he wasn’t loyal, was trying to keep his interest. But they were so caught up in themselves they never reminded you how beautiful you are.” ‘I don’t—” “That’s my job now.” “What?” “From now on, it’s my job to make sure y...

“Let’s go.” It’s a plea. A plea for him to let me leave, get out of here, not endure this new drama. “Absolutely not.” “Why not?” I say, the whine evident in my voice. “You said we could skip it before.” His face is granite when he speaks. “I changed my mind. You need to be here to show your face. You deserve to be here more than anyone else as his daughter. Don’t let this game get to you. Let it help you win. Don’t let them think they won, that you ran off with your tail between your legs.” I stare at him, really seeing him, and in there, I see anger—not at me, but for me. “I don’t care, really, honey. It’s not a big deal.” “You think I’m going to let you cry in my arms over this fuckwad and the way he makes you feel and let him pull this hours later? Do you think I’m going to let him think he got to you, let him miss out on seeing you, fucking beautiful and intelligent and sweet? Absolutely not. Chin up, sweetheart. Open your eyes. I’m not backing down until you have everything you deserve. And after, I’m sticking around to make sure you keep it.”

“We’re gonna work on this.” “On what?” “This fucked-up idea you have of yourself.” “I don’t have—” “You do, Cass. And it’s fine. Gives me somethin’ to do. I’ll spend as long as I need to show you how beautiful you are. Run to the ends of the earth. Tell you every day you’re gorgeous, remind you how damn hard you make me. Whatever it takes until you see what the rest of the world sees.” “I’ve got a belly and—” “Shut up. You shut up and you kick those assholes out of your head. You don’t let them get to you, don’t let them tell you how to feel about yourself when you’re the most beautiful person, inside and out, I’ve ever met. And after tonight? Fuck those assholes. This is it. Unless you really, truly want to, we are not seeing your scumbag of a dad. Not goin’ out of your way to make time for a man who doesn’t treat you like a damn princess, for a man who doesn’t think you make the world turn.” “Luke, I—” My eyes are watering, his words breaking the shell of the heartbroken little girl inside of me, shattering any reserve I made to protect myself from falling harder. “No, not talking about this anymore. You’re not gonna shed a single fuckin’ tear. Not now. Not with me. We’re going to walk down those stairs, sit in the stupid fuckin’ ceremony room, and watch your scumbag father marry a gold digger. Then we’re going to drink and eat and dance on their dime, have a blast, and then I’m going to come back here, strip you down, and remind you you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever ha...

“Some things never change, huh? I’m surprised you chose such a fitted dress.” I never know why he does this. Why he feels the need to be cruel to his only daughter. “Excuse me?” Somehow, in my embarrassment, I missed Luke leaning in to listen, his body tense, the heat roiling off him. “Luke—” “You must know. She’s not, well... built for indulging.” “I must have heard you wrong.” “Luke—” “Are you saying your daughter shouldn’t be wearing this gorgeous dress or eating cake because you are judging her body?” “Not judging, just stating the obvious.” Even Veronica is now trying to flee, trying to pull my dad away. I have to wonder how much he’s been drinking to be this obviously cruel in front of his peers. “I see nothing but a gorgeous woman. Fucking beautiful.” Luke’s eyes are burning, but my dad, too wrapped up in himself, too oblivious to notice, just keeps going. “I see she’s got you too. Fooled you. It’s nice now, the curves. A nice handful.” I feel sick to my stomach, the cake roiling and churning. But, once she locks you down, that ends. She’ll have kids and get fat, and then what? You’re stuck with a bitchy wife with nothing to offer. You divorce her and she’ll get child support or alimony for as long as she can. Don’t fuck up like I did. Get the prenup, son." He winks at Luke like he’s divulging some genius father-son advice. “You’re out of your fucking mind.” Luke stands, and I follow, unsure of what else to do, wanting to end this, wanting to interrupt but also… Als...

“Stop.” His words are fierce, almost angry. “Stop this. You’re fucking gorgeous, head to toe. I see you, I instantly get hard, want to hide you away so no one else can watch you. Every man in that room, every single one watched your every move, watched your ass move in this dress, watched you walk, you laugh. Watched you eat and drink and smile at me, only me. Every single man wished like fuck he was in my shoes, getting that smile from you.”

“Don’t you see it? Don’t you see how fucking beautiful you are? Absolutely perfect, the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. All of this, fucking perfect.”

“You’re telling me the only reason we’re in this car right now is so you can match me?” “No, we’re in the car because you helped me out, took me to the wedding.” “Don’t play games.” “I’m not.” I am. I am because games are the only things saving me, the only things keeping me from breaking down, giving in. The only things keeping my heart safe from disappointment down the road. “Fine, play dumb. Are you telling me the only reason we’ve been together for the past three weeks has been to vet me? To find me a fuckin’ match? To set me up with some other woman?” “Of course.” Lies, lies, lies. Even my uptight librarian is shaking her head at my dishonesty. “There’s no way you can think that, Cass. Not after these past weeks. Not after Friday, after yesterday. This is more, Cassie. This is not you setting me up. We talked about this. We are more. We’re fucking great together.” “And I told you I can’t date. That this would be over after the wedding.” “So that’s it?” “That’s it.” “You’re lying to yourself. Why are you lying to yourself?” His words cut, but his eyes are questioning, earnest, like he really wants to decode me and figure it out. To save this shipwreck. “You know—” “You’re so fuckin’ scared because of your piece of shit dad. And your fuckin’ mother who lets you think all men are shit because it makes her feel validated. You’re so fuckin’ scared you block yourself out from ever being hurt. Cut people off before it’s even an issue. God, Cass, you didn’t even spend time wi...

If this is how bad it hurts after only three weeks, it’s a good enough reason to end things now. If we went further? If I gave him more of me, let him have even more of a hold on me, and something happened? Well, I see why my mom never recovered.

“I don’t want to get broken.” “Aren’t you broken right now?” The words ring out, echoing in my mind. Aren’t you now? Aren’t you now? Aren’t. You. Now?

“What is this? Why are you matching me?” “Because you’ve been approved to be an Ex Files match. You’ve completed your two dates with flying colors and are now in our system.” “The fuck I am.” “I’m sorry, were you not interested in being matched? I can remove you—” “Yeah, you’d better fuckin’ remove me from your fuckin’ system. It’s you and me, Cass. No other fuckin’ matches.” God, this is what I was afraid of. “Luke, we had an understanding.” “No, you had some fucked-up idea you could get rid of me after those dates. Some fucked-up thought we weren’t as perfect as you fuckin’ know we are, that I’d just lie down and let you set me up after what we’ve been through.” “That’s how this works.” “You always fuck your clients?” I blanch and gasp, appalled he’d even say that. “Of course not! I can’t believe you’d—” He walks around my desk to kneel before me, holding my hands in his and twisting my desk chair to face him. “I know. It’s because I’m different. We’re different. I knew it from the first day, when I found you cryin’ on the side of the road. Walked to your car, had you yellin’ at me for showing up late, and I think I knew then. You were it for me, attitude and fuckin’ mascara face and all. You’re so damn scared, though. I want to help, Cass. I do. But I need you to fuckin’ work with me.” I stare at him, my eyes wide, completely speechless. I can’t… we can’t… The truth is, I know if I let Luke in completely, gave him everything, and it ended, I’d be like my mom, broken and...

“You need to go on a date.” I’m speechless, staring at her after what we just shared, knowing she’s it, she’s mine. “You need to go out with Maya.” “Are you… are you kidding me?” “It’s what you need to do, Luke.” She rolls off me, refusing to meet my eyes, and stands, looking to find her bra and panties. “The fuck I do, Cass.” “You… you deserve more. More than I can give you.” “What the fuck do you know about what I want?” “My job is to know what you want,” she says, stepping into her panties. “Then you’re shit at your job. You have no fucking idea what I want. I want you, Cassie. You. That’s it. Told you before, I’ll tell you again. You are mine.” “You want someone who is going to trust you. Someone who will share your life. Someone with a family you can make your own. Someone your sisters can talk about teething and tee ball with. Someone who won’t worry anytime you’re out of town or when you don’t text back. Someone who can handle having a man and building a life with him without panic.” She lifts the dress over her head, and each word breaks something inside of me. Not something for me, but something for her. That she sees herself as this broken person, this unfixable being who doesn’t deserve the good in the world. All because her asshole father is scum and her mother pushed all of her own issues onto Cassie. “I am not that. I’m not looking for a relationship, much less forever.” And as much as her words are breaking me, as much as I want to reassure her, my damn prid...

“You know what, Cass? Fuck it. Set me up. Set up something with that chick, give me her info. At least she’s ready to open herself to something, to someone.”

All this time, he’s been showing me. Showing me he’s not the same. That he’s real, he feels things for me, wants to try something with me. That he wants me. And all this time, through the dozens of times he’s told and showed me, I’ve ignored it. Instead, so stuck in the trap of trying to protect myself, I couldn’t see there was a man in front of me willing to slay dragons for me, with me. Willing to do what it took to keep my heart safe and sound, to give me all of my girlish daydreams of family and friends and love. And I threw it away. But he couldn’t even throw away a silly fortune from a cookie. Oh God, what have I done?

I get about two-thirds of the way there when I hear the laugh, hear Maya say, “God, I’m so glad we did this. I so needed to get out.” “Yeah, me too. It’s been so long since I’ve done this.” What the fuck? I stop in my tracks, floored because what the fuck is he talking about? We just went out last week. We’ve been dating for three weeks. How the fuck has it been so long? Was I wrong? Was my initial fear and instinct correct? Rage flows through me, and I stop at the table, hands on my hips, fire in my eyes as I shoot Luke with the blaze. His head travels up my body, shock taking over his face laced with something I can’t quite pinpoint. Fear? Relief? Joy? The thoughts flit past his face so quickly I can’t stop and decode any. “Cassie, what are you—” “I cannot believe this,” I say, my voice stern, hands on my hips, and Jesus, I feel like a jilted girlfriend. How many rom-com stereotypes can I become in one day? “What are you—” “Three days ago, you’re in my office, begging me to give you a chance, telling me we’re meant to fucking be, bending me over.” My words stop as I realize we have an audience. Luke’s lips tip up, a dimple showing, and I have to fight not to lose my train of thought. “Whatever. And now you’re here, on a date, telling her you haven’t done this in so long? Are you kidding me?!” I turn my face to Maya. “I’m sorry I set this up. I clearly messed up. He’s obviously a liar and a player.” Luke laughs now, as if I’m telling some grand story, and even Maya’s lips...

“You’re exactly what he needs. Don’t let that smile get to you and let him get away with everything. He needs someone to keep him on his feet, keep him in line.”

“I was crazy. So mad. So angry you wouldn’t even try, wouldn’t even put yourself in the position to try it with me. I was mad, Cass. Then I got that email from Gabrielle and I lost it. I was a dick. I proved you right in some ways, showing parts of me I’m not proud of. I’ve got a temper. You know that; you’ve seen it. But it should never be directed at you, ever. Ever Cassie. You had your reasons for being careful.” “You had your reasons for being hurt.” “Cassie, I am a grown-ass man with feelings and perspective. With knowledge of what I’m working with, of whom I need to work with. You? Those wounds? It’s the little girl in you, a hurt little girl with a temper masking the fact she is absolutely scared to death another person will let her down. It’s not about men being shitheads, Cass. Yeah, that’s a part of it. Your dad’s a fuckup and fucked around, and you’ve seen some assholes, but that’s not it. It’s your mom who chose her own misery over helping you live your life. It’s your fuckwad of a dad who chose his dick over giving his little girl everything she needed to be confident and glowing and beautiful inside and out. It’s your asshole friends who you opened your heart to, gave everything to, only for them to get married and have kids and leave you behind because you were too busy making other’s dreams come true to make your own life a fairytale. And somehow, despite all of that, you’re the most beautiful person I know. You’re kind and generous, a friend to everyone. Y...

“This is gonna work, Cass. We’re gonna have to work for it. You’re going to have to trust me, and I promise to keep you safe, guard your heart, but it’s going to take time, okay? And when you get scared, I need you to talk to me. There’s nothing we can’t get past if it’s us together.” Her eyes shine with moisture as she nods before I kiss her, and I know I’ll do whatever it takes to keep this. Whether she knows it or not, Cassie is mine forever.

“Jeff is going to kill me,” he says as I pull on the robe, cinching it tight at my waist. Luke’s eyes roam over me like he’s thinking about doing it again. “No. No way, wait until we get home,” I chide, and he smiles at me, that dimple I love coming out. “And Jeff won’t kill you, don’t worry.” “What?” “I told him to send you out here. He knows. You won’t be in trouble.” I’ve become friends with nearly all of Luke’s friends in the past six months, including his boss and the shop owner. “You told him to send me out here so I could fuck you on CR 324?” His eyes are wide with surprise. “Of course not! I just asked if he could set it up, that this is where we met…” Humor now fills his shocked green eyes. “What?” He’s laughing now, and dread fills my belly as he fixes his clothes. “What, Luke!?” “Babe, he knew.” “No, I told him—” “Don’t care what you told him, Cass. He knew I was coming out here to get laid.” “There’s no way—” “Cassie, I’m a man. Men know. There’s no way he okayed this, went along with it, and thought, what? It was going to be a romantic picnic? Love you, babe, but he knows.” His eyes are sincere on mine, and I see it now, the truth. “No.” “Yes, babe.” He tightens the robe I’m wearing, tugging at the bottom to cover more of me. “He knows.” “Oh, my God! I can never show my face there again.” “What? Why?” “Uh, hello! Luke! Your boss knows.” “Sweetheart, if anything, you just won the award for the best girlfriend.” “No, maybe skankiest girlfriend.” “Again, Cass, I ...

“Cassie, will you do me the honor of being my wife? Let me make your life a fairytale, show you how beautiful it can be, how beautiful we can be?”