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last time and when he’d woke up the next morning with a fierce need to find Yvonne outside of her shop.
    It wasn't that she made him want , but she made him laugh. He put his head in his hands and sighed. “You're right,” he said to his cousin.
    “I was just asking the question. If you don't want to keep doing this, fine. If you do, I'm for it. I...” Drew sighed.
    Greg dropped his hands and met his cousin's gaze. “What?”
    Drew shifted his stance his expression forming into grimace. “What happened with Abigail isn't your fault.”
    He stepped back, shaking his head not wanting to take a stroll through that minefield. “I don't—”
    “She bailed on you,” Drew said not bothering to pull the sucker punch.
    Those words hit and he took another step back. “Get to the point or I might punch you.”
    “And that's it. You're not that guy. But you're taking this shit like you are. The Greg that I know is straight-forward. He would have gone to Yvonne's shop with flowers or some other sappy crap and asked her out. I would have made fun of you for it, but you wouldn't care. You say what you mean and mean what you say.”
    Abigail had told him there was no spark, no there, there in their relationship. He wasn't just a good guy but the perfect guy—the one every woman should fall for. There was nothing wrong with him but deep in her gut she felt, knew he wasn't the one for her.
    How in the fuck could he fix that? How could he know the next woman wouldn't feel the same. Sex was easier. Emotional crap was where he had doubts, questions. He was supposed to move on. He was supposed to not care. But he'd gotten down on one knee and asked a woman to take his last name, to be his forever. And gotten his teeth kicked in. How could that not screw with his head?
    Greg sucked in air, held it and blew it back out. “All I know is that I want her more than anything right now.”
    Drew let out a laugh that sounded really bitter. “She's the one thing you can't have.” His cousin muttered the next so low, Greg had to strain to hear him, “Yeah. I know that feeling.”
    Greg shook his head. “Let's go in. If she's not there, then I'll go back to my old self.”
    But you can't a small voice whispered in his head.
    Drew frowned at him. “So it's not just sex?”
    He shrugged in reply. “It is what it will be.”
    “Stop being philosophical. You know that confuses me.”
    Greg laughed. The man was his best friend and he knew him better than most. Drew was more in tune to the world and himself than he’d admit. “Shut up and move.”
    Drew put up his hands and stepped aside. “If she's not here, I'm driving you to her store. I have better things to do with my life than driving around town looking for a woman I'm not even going to sleep with.”
    Greg paused with his hand on the door. “You came with me just to be the peanut gallery.”
    “True, but still. It stopped being amusing two stops ago.”
    “And yet that hasn't stopped you from putting down the groundwork to sleep with any of the dancers we've met.”
    Drew smirked. “I like to multitask.”
    Greg stepped inside the dance studio. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath until he didn't see her. Women filled the studio. Some chatted, some were stretching but they all wore stockings and what he imagined was ballerina workout gear—long loose shirts, hair buns and pink flat shoes.
    Many gave them sidelong glances as they settled into the chairs on the opposite side of the wooden bar and mirror. None approached them or got on their phones to call the police or protective husbands. He took that as a good sign.
    Eventually Drew's smile enticed a few to come over and ask questions, flirt and other things Greg didn't pay too much mind to. He was too busy watching the door. The class started in thirty minutes and that meant there was still time for Yvonne to show up.
    Drew whispered, “This is the right place.”
    He dragged his attention away from the door for