I stumbled off the stage, laughing hysterically. Josh caught me at the bottom of the steps as I collided with his chest. I felt the rumble of his laughter through his T-shirt.

He wore the shirt I’d stolen from him the day we met. The brewery one. It looked so good on him. His broad back, his tapered waist, the fabric tight over his contoured chest. I took a deep breath and tried to capture the scent I’d smelled that day when I wore it, that masculine cedar that was Josh. Once I had it, I held my breath, not wanting to let it go.

I’d had a smidge too much to drink.

We’d taken a shot before we went on, and I had already been two beers in. We’d just rapped “No Diggity” together, and I’d cracked up through half of it. Josh was pretty good. He did dance moves and everything.

I slipped my arms around his waist, hooking my fingers behind his back, and he held me to him, smiling down at me.

I put my chin to his chest. “I’m only hugging you because those cougars over there have their eye on you,” I lied. “It’s my duty as your friend to protect you from impending cougar attacks.”

He chuckled. “Thanks for clearing that up. I was afraid for a second there you were hugging me for real.”

I would do everything with you. For real.

“I have a confession,” I said, gazing up at him. “I don’t really think you’re a bad driver.”

He gave me an amused smile. “What?” I bit my lip.

“I’m just thinking about something Shawn said the other day. That drunks and leggings always tell the truth.”

I snorted. “I am not drunk. I’m just talking in cursive. And Shawn is an idiot. Have you ever had the urge to tell someone to shut the fuck up when they aren’t even talking? That’s how I feel literally every time I see his face.” I narrowed my eyes. “Although, there is some truth to that legging thing…”

He laughed, the smile creasing his eyes at the corners.

I pushed my lip out into a pout. “Josh? I need hot wings.” He released me. “Yes, ma’am.”

We walked back to our red booth to a poorly sung Lola Simone song, and he placed an order.

I took a long drink of my beer. “Why do guys always sit facing the door?” I asked, licking my lips.

He smiled at me. “Do we?” He looked over my shoulder at the entrance. “Huh. I guess we do. Maybe it’s some protective instinct. So I can keep an eye out for danger. Keep my sword arm free to protect you.” His dimples flashed.

God.

Tyler was handsome in a chiseled sort of way. Like a model in a black- and-white cologne commercial. But Josh. Oh God—Josh. He melted me. He was a teddy bear. A warm, gorgeous, delicious piece of everything.

I wished I could let him in. Let him be my boyfriend if he wanted to. He’d said the morning after we’d first hooked up that we could be exclusive. He would. He wanted to.

He would lock the house up before bed and kiss me good night. He’d throw his shirts on my chair and I wouldn’t even complain about it. Stuntman could sleep with us because he likes Josh. And when he went to work, I could text him and tell him I miss him, and he would say it back, and if I got mouthy, he’d just laugh at me and handle me like he always did. He just let my moods roll off him, like nothing about me scared him, and it made me feel like I could be myself around him. Like the only time I really was myself was when I was around him.

Maybe I should marry Tyler.

I mean, why should everyone be miserable, right? If I married Tyler, he would be happy, Mom would be happy. Josh would move on to fertile pastures and have a million babies. And I’d be with someone that I cared about who could maybe distract me from the broken heart I was going to carry for the rest of my life.

Tyler and I got along. It wouldn’t be bad. It wouldn’t be me and Josh, but there wasn’t going to be a me and Josh, so didn’t I have to consider my alternatives? And Tyler knew I was in love with Josh. He knew what he was asking when he proposed.

My best friend would never talk to me again, and my dog would probably run away. With Josh.

I wondered if Tyler would eat hot wings and drink beer with me. Probably not.

“You know what you need, Josh? One of those women who smiles when she talks.”

He laughed. “What?”

“You know, one of those really sweet women who’s always smiling. They make great mothers. They’re supportive and they rub your back when you’ve had a bad day. They smell like cookies and they get laugh lines and wear scarves to the grocery store.”

“I think you’re drunk.” His eyes sparkled. I was drunk.

He grinned at me. “I like you like this.”

“I have to tell you something.” I made my face serious. “You can’t make fun of me.”

He sat up and made his face straight too. “What?” “Earlier? Tyler took me back to his hotel room.” The humor in Josh’s eyes evaporated instantly.

“No. Not that. We didn’t do that.” I waved him off. “He had this whole romantic setup. When we got there, he had champagne and rose petals and candles all over. Everywhere.”

The levity returned to his eyes. “Ouch.”

“Yup. I got outta there. It really freaked me out. Because you know why?”

“Why?” he asked.

“He should know. He should know I wouldn’t like that, right? That

means something, doesn’t it?”

His expression grew a little serious. “Yeah, it does.”

“Am I a bitch? I am, huh? That was really sweet, and I should have appreciated that. I am a bitch. I knew it.”

He chuckled. “No. You’re honest.” He shook his head and talked into his beer. “And he did it all wrong.”

I smirked. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He put his glass down. “Let me guess—the ring was huge. Big rock?”

“Oh my God, Josh, you don’t even know. It was enormous. He designed it and had it made. It had this red rope of rubies around the band and…” I took a deep breath remembering it. He’d spent a fortune on it and I’d hated it. It was so gaudy. “Why? What kind of ring should he have gotten me?”

“None. You’d want to pick your own ring. You’d probably say something like, ‘I’m the one who has to look at it for the next fifty years.’ I would have taken you to buy it instead of just springing it on you.”

“How do you know I wouldn’t like a ring sprung on me?” I said, narrowing my eyes.

He scoffed. “The only thing you like sprung on you are snacks. You have an opinion about everything. You’re also really practical. You’d probably pick something reasonable. No diamonds. I’m thinking an etched band. Nothing that would need to be repaired or cleaned or that you’d have to take off to do the dishes.” He regarded me for a moment. “Something personal engraved inside. Something only the two of you would get.”

He knows me. He knows me almost better than I know myself.

I had to press my lips together to keep my face straight. I changed the subject. “You know what I like about you, Josh?”

“My way with small, vicious dogs?”

I snorted. “I like that you don’t do that guy thing where you try and solve all my problems. Guys do that. Sometimes we just want to complain. That’s it. We don’t want advice. We just want you to listen. You’re a good listener.”

He fiddled with a coaster and his smile sank a little. “I would try and solve all your problems.” His eyes came back up to mine. “If you wanted me to.”

God, yes, I want you to. But you can’t and you never will.

The waitress delivered our wings.

“I’m double dipping,” I said, grabbing a celery stick. “If you can’t handle that, get your own ranch.”

“I think we’re slightly past that, don’t you?” He dunked a drumstick, took a bite, and then dunked it again. “So when does he need his answer by?”

I nibbled on the end of my celery, not looking directly at him. “He’s here for two weeks. So I guess before he leaves.”

He spoke to the basket of wings. “What are you leaning toward?” Someone started singing “Push It.” “Josh! Let’s dance. Will you?”

If he knew I changed the subject on purpose, he didn’t let on. He wiped his hands with a napkin. “Sure.”

We walked out into the thin crowd of people in front of the stage and started to dance.

He hadn’t been kidding about having moves. He was as good on the floor as he was in bed. We danced for three songs, laughing the whole time. Then someone started singing a really horrible rendition of John

Legend’s “All of Me.” The woman singing it was even drunker than I was.

Josh and I looked at each other and wordlessly moved together. I wrapped my arm around his neck and he held my other hand over his heart. He was still a little out of breath, and his chest rose and fell against my palm.

I’m in love with you.

The impulse hit me so hard and fast, I didn’t even see it coming.

I’m so in love with you.

How easily this came to me. With Tyler, the question was murky and confusing. But with Josh, it was clear. I was in love with him. And I was in love with him in a “we were made for each other” kind of way.

But we weren’t though, right? Because how could I be made for him when my body couldn’t give him children?

My eyes started to tear up, and he dipped his head to look at me. “Hey, shhhh. I know what happened today was hard.”

He kissed my forehead, so tenderly, and I felt simultaneously better and worse.

I shook my head and buried my face in his chest. He didn’t have the first clue.

When I looked back up, his concerned face hovered over mine. I wanted to stand on my toes and kiss him. Or let him kiss me. I wanted him to be the one to ask me to marry him. If I could be with him, I’d say yes to him in a heartbeat, even if he did it in some cringey, cheesy way. Even if there were rose petals all over the fucking house.

God, wouldn’t we be something? If it wasn’t for that one thing. That one thing that was everything.

For a moment, in my drunken state, I thought I could tell him. I could just blurt out the truth about everything. Get it out of me, put it in his hands, let him figure out what to do with it. And then maybe it wouldn’t feel so heavy. Maybe he would be okay with it and he’d—

He’d what, Kristen? Settle? He’d give up his dreams for you?

“I’m so selfish,” I whispered.

He put his cheek to mine and spoke into my ear. “You’re not. You’re wonderful. And you look really beautiful tonight.”

I sniffed and tilted my head back to look him in the eye. “You know why I always looked like a slob around you? Because I liked you.”

He pulled his face back a little and his eyes went wide.

“Yeah. I felt guilty that I liked you so much when I had a boyfriend. So I always tried to look bad in front of you so you wouldn’t know.”

He beamed down on me. “So the mud mask and the curlers and that nose strip thing—”

“All proof of my enormous lady boner for you.” My buzz made me careless.

And I couldn’t care less.

“Wow,” he said, looking reflective. “You must have really liked me. You didn’t brush your hair for two days in a row once.”

I launched into giggles and he laughed with me, putting his forehead to mine. “And I still thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever met.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, breathing him in, feeling his breath on my face. I wanted to hold this moment in suspended animation. These tender stolen seconds. My forehead pressed to his, his warm hand over mine, his heart beating against my palm. Him slowly turning me on a dance floor, telling me I’m beautiful.

His deep voice spoke over me softly. “Can I ask you a question?”

“What?” I whispered, opening my eyes. “What does Sloan think of him?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Sloan hates him.” “Why?”

“Because she thinks I’ve settled.”

He furrowed his brow. “Settled? How? Is something wrong with him? Is he a dick?”

I let out a long breath. “No. He doesn’t want kids.”

He scoffed. “Well, there you go. The kid thing is too important. Can’t be with him.”

It felt like a punch right to my uterus. A hard lump bolted to my throat, and I had to look away from him because I was going to cry.

There it was, straight from his own lips.

The kid thing is too important. Can’t be with him.

He stopped turning us, and he put my face in his hands. Once I was looking at him again, I lost it. My chin quivered and tears spilled over my cheeks.

His eyes moved back and forth between mine. “Don’t marry him, Kristen.”

My heart cracked in half.

“Don’t marry him,” he whispered. “Please.”

There was something desperate about the way he said it. I studied the look in his eyes. Distress. Longing. Pleading.

This wasn’t the look of a man who just didn’t want to give up his booty call. This was feelings. Josh has feelings for me.

The realization hit me like a deep, cancerous, soul-reaching sadness. These emotions I could see he had for me—they should have made me happy. I should have been ecstatic to know that what I felt maybe wasn’t so one-sided. But instead, a bitter disappointment descended on my body making me so weak I worried my knees would give out.

I had to cut him loose.

This thing between us had gone as far as I could allow it to go.

I wasn’t going to marry Tyler. I think I’d known that the whole time. After I’d said no, he’d begged me to think about it. So I did. But I wasn’t going to be with either of them. I couldn’t.

The kid thing is too important. Can’t be with him.

I couldn’t love Tyler the way he deserved, and I couldn’t give Josh a family. I could never give either man what he really wanted.