Page 20 of The Catch

"Come on, Ames. Remember how you liked to dance in college?"

"Yeah. At the club. Not on the coffee table at my friend's condo."

He jumps off and onto the hardwood, leaning forward again to look me in the eye. "Then go to the club with me. We'll dance there."

The song continues to blare from speakers I can't see. Saint gazes at me with patience, but there's a hint of a dare in his deep brown eyes.

A grin deepens the friendly dimples on his face. "Come on, Amy."

I suck an offended breath. I'm Ames. Sometimes, I'll allow anAmelia. The people who tried to call me Amy didn't last long in my life. It's not that I don't like the name— it's a beautiful name— but anyone who calls me Amy did not listen to how I like to becalled.

"Why are you poking?" I ask.

"Because I want to see you fired up again."

"And you think I'll befired upagain if I go to the club with you."

"I mean, that's an option, but what I really want—"

The song ends, and he breaks himself off. The condo goes dead quiet. It stretches the moment, until all I can do is hold my breath and wonder at the law of relativity. Time isn't a constant, when Saint looks at me this way.

I raise an eyebrow and pretend I'm not a little breathless. "What do you really want, Saint?"

He gazes into my eyes. His pupils dilate. His eyes drop to my mouth.

My heart stutters.

It lasts less than a second, but I see the change, and it shifts something inside.

He opens his mouth to say something, but he reconsiders. Twice he blinks, before he chuckles.

"Ames— Amelia Guerrero. You're a warrior. You can do anything you want. This is a hiccup, but what is that old wisdom? A crisis can also be an opportunity. So aim for whatyouwant. Go at it again. Do it even better."

His smile brings the gift of his dimples. They lighten the weight I carry inside these days.

The man in front of me is easy to talk to. All those years ago when I first met him, his boy-next-door energy, that easy smile, those teasing divots at the edges of his mouth… it had everyone opening up around him. He's the kind of guy who makes you feel free.

Sometimes that means people seek him out for a good time. Sometimes, they seek him out for an ear and an open mind.

I can't resist his powers. It's easy to share what's been plaguing my thoughts, when he invites them in with compliments and optimism. I lean forward, too, bringing us closer.

I sigh. "What I want is to fight for my business. On that side of things, you're right. I won't go out without fighting. I'll find a way to keep my kitchen, myemployees, and cook for happiness again. But, with Aidan? I don't know what to do about the breakup. You know my parents divorced when Pablo and I were young. They went in and out of relationships my whole life. I wanted better than that. I thought I had it. How do I fixthat, Saint? I just realized that, so far, I'm not any better than the people who raised me."

His face doesn't change much as he studies me. His look is focused, like he really wants to understand. Like it matters to him. It's one of the things that makes him so popular with friends and lovers alike.

"I have no idea how one fixes that," he finally says. "But I'll be here until we put the pieces together."

He saidwe.

Maybe he thinks of me as a friend. Maybe not. Regardless, I know the value of what he offers. He's telling me I don't have to do it alone.

A powerful feeling builds up my chest, a water level line that goes up and up and changes the density of my insides. It washes away some of my hurt, and it spreads like the first rays of sunlight on a winter morning. Warm, welcome, and wondrous.

Words of gratitude evade me, but I don't let it stop me. I reach and put a hand on his, and hope what I feel shows in my eyes.

Saint may end up helping me put my life back together. Fixing something he didn't wreck. I can only hope I do right by him, too.

Chapter 8