Lincoln’s smile grew wider, but he didn’t move. Not to walk toward her, not to stop his modern-day boom-box-over-the-head move.

She understood then. Understood that he was giving her the choice. He’d come here to say something, but he wouldn’t unless she was willing to listen.

Lincoln lifted his eyebrows in question, and she gave a jerky nod, even as her heart pounded.

Slowly his arm came down to his side, his thumb moving across the screen to silence Britney before he shoved his phone into his back pocket.

He began walking toward her.

Daisy clutched the dog closer, only to realize she was practically crushing the little creature. She set down Kiwi, who promptly went to investigate one of the ugly potted flowers on the rented home’s porch.

Lincoln slowly came up the three steps from the beach to the porch, and her heart beat faster.

He looked wonderful. Jeans and a black sweatshirt, his hair damp and curling, his eyes blue and intense.

She wanted to go to him, but her feet wouldn’t move, so she stayed, waiting until he stopped just inches from her.

“You really liked that sappy shit?” he asked, his voice gravelly.

“Depends,” she said with a tremulous smile. “On the motivation behind it.”

He stepped closer and lifted a hand to her face, his touch gentle as his fingertips traced her cheekbone, then skipped up to her hairline. “How about we start with something simple. I was an idiot, and I’m sorry.”

“You weren’t an idiot,” she whispered. “You were—you are—a man who’s lost someone and is trying to figure it out.”

He nodded, his eyes locked on her mouth before moving up to her eyes. “I was still an idiot. And I’m still sorry.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But Lincoln, I’m not angry at you. I was never angry at you. I understand that you’ll need time, and when you’re ready you’ll find someone wonderful—”

“I don’t want someone wonderful, I want you,” he interrupted.

She lifted her eyebrows, and he closed his eyes, laughing sheepishly as he realized what he’d said. “Damn it. That’s not what I meant.”

“Not so smooth today, I see,” she teased. “Not like with the other girls.”

“No,” he said gruffly. “No, because the other girls don’t matter like you do, Daisy.”

“Lincoln—”

He tilted her head back. “You may have noticed I have a weird habit of calling everyone love. But never you. I never called you that. You were always Daisy or Wallflower.”

Lincoln took a deep breath. “I think…I think I didn’t call you love in the dismissive way I did everyone else because I knew if I ever said it to you, it would come true. That you would be my love, and I would love you, Daisy. I didn’t want that. I couldn’t risk it. So I never said it. But damn it Daisy, it ended up not mattering. I fell in love with you anyway. Somewhere between New York and Charlotte and back to New York again, I fell so hard for my Wallflower.”

She laughed and wiped at her tears. “I thought we agreed not to call me that.”

His lips brushed her cheek, capturing the tear. “How about I call you something else? Love.”

Her eyes closed, and her heart soared. “Bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Not anymore,” he whispered, his mouth brushing over hers. “Only you, Daisy. You are my love.”

She leaned back and forced herself to ask the hard question. “What about Katie?”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t wince. “Katie’s gone. And she and I have an understanding.”

Daisy didn’t ask how he had an understanding with a dead woman. The conviction in his voice had her breath catching, daring to hope, that maybe, just maybe…

Then reality settled in, and she remembered how he’d freaked out the second Katie’s shadow had popped up.

Daisy stepped back, and his hands fell to his sides, his eyes closing as his head tipped back in defeat.

“I can’t,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, but I can’t put myself out there again and risk that you’ll freak out on me with every anniversary of Katie’s birthday, or the accident, or her death. I know that sounds cruel, but—”

“It’s not cruel. I mean, that won’t happen, but it’s fair that you fear I would after the way I’ve treated you,” he said, opening his eyes and looking at her. “It’s what I expected.”

The agony in his blue eyes ripped through her.

“I’ll go,” he whispered. “But Daisy, if I can ask a favor, as a friend…”

She nodded, her heart squeezing at the thought that she might really let him go. “Anything.”

“Tell me you love me.”

Daisy gasped in pain, and his gaze was tortured but steady as he looked at her.

“Lincoln—”

“I know you love me,” he said, his voice desperate. “Or at least you did before I screwed it up. Let me have the words just once, Daisy. Lie to me if you have to, but give me something to replay when I’m old and all alone and loving you so much it hurts—”

Daisy let out a strangled sob as she launched herself at him, arms going around him as she buried her face in his neck. “I love you,” she whispered. “I love you so much.”

Lincoln froze in shock, a second before his arms came around her and he shuddered. “It’s better than I thought it would be.”