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buddy.” Squatting beside him, I lower my voice. “Let me talk to your dad first. I don’t want to horn in on his situation or anything.”

“Dad said he’d love to have you working with him. I heard him telling Mom last weekend! He wishes you would stay in Fireside and never go back to L.A.”

Rocking back on my heels, I wink at my nephew. “That sounds more like something you’d say.”

Jesse puts a small hand on my shoulder. “Think about it. You two were a dynamite team. Dad misses you.”

My brow relaxes, and I laugh. “And you’re a real salesman, you know that?” Standing, I grab him around the shoulders in a rough hug. “We might be related. Now get to class before you’re late.”

I kiss him on the top of the head as I let him go. That guy. I forget sometimes he’s not in kindergarten anymore.

Walking back to Gran’s ancient, red step-side Chevy, I think about driving to Oceanside. What will I say if I find her there, married and living her happily ever after? Am I ready for that? What if she’s with Spencer the douche? Anger burns in my stomach, which is ridiculous.

Climbing into the truck, I turn the wheel towards the highway leading down to the coast. I’ve come so close to doing this so many times. We lost touch while I was in L.A., and to be fair, a lot of it was my fault. I was so focused on saving my career, I pretty much lost touch with everybody. Even my own brother was facing a crisis, and I trusted my dad to help him out.

Spoiler alert: He didn’t.

Now I realize there’s more to life than chasing my own dream. What’s the point in achieving it if I don’t have anyone to share it with? It’s a great realization, but it’s bullshit if Daisy’s not with me.

But what if I’m too late? The burning in my stomach moves to my chest. Can I accept that and move on with my life as well? What choice will I have?

Looking up, I realize I’m on the main drag of Oceanside Village. I’ll pass right by her shop if I don’t slow down. I’ve done my research, and I know she’s the last storefront on the end, past the pretty little bakery.

I pull into a parking spot right out front and kill the engine. A huge stack of boxes is inside the door, blocking my view. Sliding my hands down the front of my jeans, I figure it’s now or never. Time to go inside and face my future, whatever it might be.

My boots thump on the wooden porch, and as I get closer, I notice the lights are off. A sign on the door says, “Back in…” and a clock pointing to 10 a.m. Is that right? No cars are parked out front, which seems strange for a Friday, although I guess it’s the off-season. Does she close early on Fridays?

I look up and down the alley. She could have gone to lunch and forgotten to reset the little clock. If I remember correctly, the first store on the opposite end serves food.

I’ve just taken a few steps in that direction when the bakery door opens and a young woman with long, wavy brown hair walks out, slamming into me with an Oof!

“Oh!” she gasps, struggling to catch the large boxes she’s carrying. “I’m so sorry!”

“I’m sorry.” I help her steady her load. “I guess I was loitering.”

“No, it’s my fault. I need to replace the bell on that door. It’s a collision waiting to happen.” She pushes back her hair and looks up at me, then her eyebrows furrow. “Have we met before?”

I wonder how long it will take for me to stop bracing myself whenever someone I don’t know recognizes me. So many times, those words were followed by a Rammin Rod comment.

“I’m an old friend of Daisy’s.” I motion towards the antiques store, and her eyebrows shoot up.

“You know Daisy?” She says it like she can’t believe it.

“We grew up together in Fireside. You don’t happen to know where she is?”

“I don’t, sorry. I’m Emberly, by the way.” She shifts her boxes and holds out a hand. “Her daughter Melody and mine are friends.”

“Her daughter?” A weight drops in my stomach as I shake Emberly’s hand slowly.

She has a daughter… which probably means she’s married. Releasing Emberly’s hand, I turn and walk slowly towards the truck.

Emberly calls after me, “Want me to tell Daisy you stopped by?”

“Thanks.” I hold up my hand in a distracted wave.

What now? Should I even try to see her? Do I want to see her if she’s married?

Frustration churns in my stomach. How could I be so fucking selfish? It’s been four years since we said goodbye at the airport, and I’ll never forget the look on her face, her dark eyes so round and sad. Why didn’t I do something? Keep in touch better? Anything?

Clenching my jaw, I rest my elbows on the side of the truck and rub my forehead. I can’t go back to Los Angeles without seeing her. If it’s too late, so be it, but I want to say hello, tell her I’ve been thinking about her. Tell her she was always on my mind… Which is the most selfish song ever written.

Pulling out my phone, I touch the familiar digits. My brother’s answer is short. “What?”

“Good to hear from you, too.” I shake my head, turning my back to the door.

“I’m in the middle of something. I can’t really talk.”

“Then why didn’t you send it to voicemail?”

“You never leave a message.”

He has a point. “What are you doing tonight? Can you meet me at the Tuna Tiki for a drink?”

“Can’t do it. I’ve made plans.”

Exhaling a growl, I check my watch. “I guess it’s short notice. What about tomorrow?”

I have to say, my brother has gotten way more interested in spending time at home with his wife than he ever was

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