It’s exciting.

In my dreams, I always imagined having a store—maybe even like Kelly’s. But I never imagined having something so edgy, so new and up-to-date. A Brooklyn store that caters to the entire country? It’s like…wow. That is something Kelly’s, with a lack of internet at the time, could never do. If only Kelly’s had had those advantages, we might have survived. If we had had the same vision Aaric prodded out of me, we could have survived. Instead, Kelly’s is my past, and my future…is House of Sass.

Realizing what will not be in my future, my chest starts to feel weighted down by all my emotions. Pride, disbelief, satisfaction, gratefulness…sadness.

I wander along to the next item—and it is ‘the’ dress, the first dress that Aaric had made for our collection, identical to the one he gave me, which currently hangs alone in a protective plastic sleeve in my closet. I’m struggling to look at it objectively without getting my feelings involved—which is rather hard—when every hair in my arm seems to rise at attention as a large body of warmth approaches from behind.

It’s amazing how aware I am of this man.

How aware I am of his eyes on the back of my head, of the exact position of his stance behind me.

I can feel him—every inch of his six feet-plus behind me—before I slowly turn, braced for the impact of those lovely gold-green eyes and how they always seem to snare me up and put a spell on me.

I find that this time, it’s no different.

Voice…don’t fail me, please…I beg myself.

“Aaric.” Somehow I manage to greet him with a level voice and a smile, meeting his gaze.

He greets me with a brief nod and an embrace, and suddenly I can feel my body trembling against his.

He’s smiling as he steps back, those eyes reflecting the same pride that I feel standing here in the middle of our joint venture. He stands very tall, watchful as he drinks in my reaction. “How does it feel?” he asks me.

I laugh nervously, motioning to all of the clothes hanging from the rafters in the edgiest way possible instead of on mannequins. “I wouldn’t have gone all out if it weren’t for you.”

“No. No.” He shakes his head vehemently, a tender gleam in his eyes. “This is all yours.”

He reaches out to touch me but almost immediately puts his hand back in his pocket, his possessive gaze caressing me instead.

It hurts.

“How is Miranda?” I blurt. “The baby?”

“It’s going well.”

He nods.

“Good,” I say, and force out a smile.

“And how are you?” I ask.

“All right,” he says.

I nod. “I’m glad.”

“Your parents would be proud of you, little bit. I’m proud of you.”

I wish I could feel the pride I always imagined I would when I reached this moment. I see what we accomplished, and him before me. Gorgeous and so familiar, a part of me can’t understand why I can’t touch him. “Do you want to buy me out?”

His eyes widen, then he frowns. “No. This is your vision. It’s nothing without you. The only reason it means more to me than business as usual is because it means something to you.”

I swallow, unsure. “It’s going to be hard walking to work every morning and bumping into you. Are you going to expect me to keep coming to meetings?”

“I’ll ask Cole to look into things with you.”

My throat constricts, and I nod.

“Well. We did it.” I motion around. “I know you do this a thousand times but I’ll only do it once. I don’t have any more left for another.” I laugh.

“You’ll only have to do it once. I believe in it and you.”

“Thank you. It means a lot to me.” I drop my gaze. “I’m sorry I couldn’t inventory your closet. You understand it would’ve been difficult…”

“She’s not moving in with me.”

I start at that, surprised. “Why?”

“Because you’re everywhere.”

“Please stop,” I say, turning.

He catches up with me, his hand squeezing my shoulder, his voice in my ear, “I can’t stop.”

We face off for a moment. I’m torn between sliding my hands in his hair, kissing him senseless, while he seems to be waging his own battle, looking at his hand as if he wants it to let go of me, but it won’t. He’s still holding me, in his grip, his body trembling visibly.

“I can’t. I can’t let you go,” he says, voice tortured.

“You have to stop calling me,” I hiss.

His eyes are as tumultuous as I’ve ever seen them. He watches me as he visibly forces his fingers to start to let go of me, one by one. It hurts…the loss of his grip, so familiar to me now.

He curses under his breath and leads me outside.

I stand here, in the middle of the sidewalk, trembling.

I watch him take a deep breath before his gold eyes lock on mine, and I feel as if the Brooklyn traffic slows, like even the lights around us dim, and it’s only Aaric Christos and I.

Standing a few feet away, but as far apart as when we were states apart.

“Have you given her the ring?”

He shakes his head gloomily. “I’m living a farce.”

He looks at me, his eyes roiling with desire. Lust, pain, frustration. “Are you dating now?”

“What else am I supposed to do? I love you, Aaric,” I yell.

He stares, his pupils flaring wide.

My voice cracks, but I’ve set it loose and now I can’t stop it from pouring out. “I love you. No man has ever pushed my buttons the way you do, has ever inspired me, challenged me, ignited me like you do. What am I supposed to do?”