She climbs down the ladder, drops her face into her hands, and lets the tears fall. I wrap my arms around her. I don’t know what to say, since it’s my fault, too, so I just hold her in my arms as she cries quietly. I brush her hair away from her cheek while another tear slides down. She’s a quiet crier. No sobs from her—just a steady trickle down her face. Even so, I can feel all the sadness in her, and all the shame she shouldn’t have to feel.

“I don’t want to be the black sheep,” she whispers into my shirt.

“You’re not, sweetheart,” I say, gently. “I swear you’re not.”

“But I am. I was the wild child in high school. Maybe then I was taking my dad’s car for a late-night ride, but look at me. I’m doing it again.” She pushes on my chest half-heartedly. “Taking you for a late-night ride.”

I manage a small laugh at her effort to make fun of herself. “Hey. Pot, meet the kettle. Besides, neither one of your so-called sins are that bad.”

“I know, but I loved that dojo. I was starting to build a reputation there.”

I stroke her hair. “And your reputation will remain intact because you’re amazing at what you do. We’ll find another dojo. You still have your self-defense classes at the other studio, right?”

She nods against me. “It’s just one class a week. The one Lila is taking.”

I rest my chin on the top of her head. “That’s cool that Lila’s in your class.”

“She’s a sweet lady. Every time I see her she says she’s working on getting the Vegas job restarted. She said it’s looking good. But Wyatt, I just feel like a fuck-up.”

I pull back from her and tuck a finger under her chin. “You’re not. I’m just as guilty.”

She slugs me lightly. “I should fire you, then.”

“I wish I could take it for you. I would. I swear I would. I hate that this happened.”

She swallows and takes a deep breath. It seems to center her. “We need to figure out what we’re doing.”

“I know,” I say, desperation coloring my tone because I wish I had the answer to having it all. I want to keep working with her, and I want to be with her, and I want to erase our Vegas mistake and just move forward like a normal man and woman dating in Manhattan would do. But whenever we take a step, we meet a roadblock.

All I know is when she tilts her chin and looks up at me, having her in my arms feels so right. But everything goes wrong when I touch her. The botched annulment, our fight, and now her losing a karate gig.

“Wyatt,” she whispers, “I want to kiss you right now, but each time I do, I feel like something foolish happens.”

“Add mind-reader to your skill set, because I was thinking the same thing,” I say as I gather her in my arms once more. Her back is pressed against the ladder as I leave a soft kiss on her forehead. “No making out then,” I whisper, with a gentle brush of my lips on her eyelids. “Just this.”

She nods against me, a soft sigh escaping her mouth. I dust my lips over her cheeks, her chin, her jaw, then hover oh so temptingly close to her lips.

“We’ll be good,” I tell her in the faintest voice. “For real. Let’s get our divorce, and if we still feel this way, then we can figure out how the hell an ex-husband can date his ex-wife.”

“Who’s also his employee,” she adds with a smile, and I’m putty in her hands. Because . . . that smile . . . those lips . . .

Her.

“We’ll figure it all out,” I say, even though the prospect of how feels like advanced calculus. But we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. I just hope the next few weeks till she’s my ex fly by. Never would I have thought I’d want to date my ex-wife so badly. But I do. I really fucking do. Maybe that sounds crazy. Maybe it is. But I want to start over with her in a normal way. A clean slate with this woman I’m crazy for? That seems like a perfect way to begin again.

I clasp her cheeks and drop one more quick kiss on her forehead.

She parks a hand on my chest and lightly pushes. “If you keep kissing me like that, we’re going to wind up doing it on this ladder, and God knows with my luck, I’ll break a leg.”

I stroke my chin. “The ladder, you say?”

“Don’t get any funny ideas.”

“Now I have one,” I say, and drop to my knees and press her against the wood, my hand on her stomach. “I would love to do this to you right now.” I run my hands up her legs, kissing her through the denim. “But I’m going to show you how good I can be.” I wrap my hands around her ass, squeeze, and press a kiss between her legs, even though she’s fully clothed. “I can be so good,” I moan, as I kiss her once more through the fabric of her clothes.

She gasps, lacing her hands into my hair. I stay like that. On my knees. My lips on her jeans. Teasing her. Leaving her with very clear instructions on what I’ll be doing when this moratorium ends.

“Wyatt,” she murmurs, her grip on my hair tightening.

I push my face closer, inhaling her scent, then bite at the denim before I stand and plant a quick kiss on her forehead. “See? Wasn’t I so sweet?”

Her lips curve into a grin. “You are a unicorn.”

I glance down at the tent in my jeans. “I’m absolutely a unicorn right now.”

She laughs then tugs me close for a tight hug. When we pull apart, we resume our work and finish the job. A little later, Violet unlocks the door, strides in, and beams. Her sleek black hair is twisted high on her head, and a slash of peach lipstick covers her mouth.