Page 265 of A Taste of Vanilla

“I need to do this part without you.”

The words hurt as they leave me, and I watch him wince. “I understand.”

I look down. “I still don’t forgive you completely, okay?”

“Completely?”

“Don’t get greedy.”

I look toward Marley, who’s gesturing like she’s demanding an update from a hostage negotiator. Oliver says something to her without moving, and she snaps back at him. Whatever he says next makes her throw up both her hands.

My people.

My ridiculous, furious people.

I open the truck door, and somehow Warren is there within seconds, offering his hand.

I decide to give it to him.

His fingers close around mine, warm and steady. For one breath, neither of us moves. The truck cab light catches the wet strands of hair along his jaw and the tired shadows beneath his eyes.

He helps me down, my boots hitting the pavement.

He lets go.

“Your things are back here,” he says.

“Can you bring them to my door?”

“Of course.” He looks thrilled.

I turn before I can make the mistake of standing there longer, in the light rain, beside his truck, looking at a man I love but still need to learn to trust.

Marley reaches me first.

She doesn’t say anything. Not right away. She just wraps her arms around me so tightly my ribs complain and my throat closes. I hold on, my face pressed into her sweatshirt and my hands fisted against her back.

“You smell like vanilla,” she says into my hair.

“You smell like panic and expensive leave-in conditioner.”

She chuckles, her arms tightening around me. “Don’t do that again.”

“I won’t.”

She pulls back to look at my face.

“Mostly because Penelope is dead.” I smile.

Oliver steps closer. “Car?”

“Gone,” I say.

His eyebrows lift. “Gone gone?”

“Towed to the salvage yard. I left wedding stuff inside.”

Marley’s face twists. “Halston…”