Page 122 of All Our Nevers

And then there’s Lia. Lia who deserves to be pampered, taken to dinner, bought presents. Lia who loves to be spoiled with material things. I was honestly a bit worried how she would react to the idea of my leaving the firm, but she was so proud of me. And that’s worth more than anything money can buy.

I walk past Connor’s vacated office at the end of the day. Nothing left but standard-issue office supplies and a worn copy of the Bluebook style guide. And in the parking lot, I’m greeted by the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, leaning against my truck, waiting for me.

The sun is shining, the first signs of autumn color appearing on the leaves, hope radiating from her stunning face.

I drop my bag and run straight to her, sweeping her into my arms.

“We did it, gorgeous.”

Her fingers are tight in my hair, face buried into the crook of my neck. We stay there for what feels like a full minute, her fingers twisting tightly into the back of my shirt, until I finally place her feet back on the ground. When she pulls away from me, there’s a wet spot at the top of her cheek.

She wipes at it quickly with the back of her hand, then says, “It went well?”

“He’s gone.”

“I saw.”

“You saw? How long have you been here? I thought you were meeting with Joséphine today?”

“The call was quick. My contract’s officially signed.” She says it with a teasing flip of her hair, like this isn’t a brave and hard-won career milestone.

My hands are on her hips, fingers pressing encouragement through the soft fabric of her skirt. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

“You may be biased,” she says with a half-smile. “I’m still nervous, but I think you’re right. Sometimes I have to leave my original plan behind, or forge ahead without one. And it feels worth the risk.”

My hand cups the side of her face as I kiss her, light and sweet and bursting with pride.

“So how do you want to celebrate your first night as an internationally licensed fashion designer?”

“I actually couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate than coming here to witness Connor’s misery. Speaking of which…” There’s a mischief I know well in her tone.

“What. Tell me.”

“Allegedly, someone slashed his tires.”

“Amelia,” I laugh, stepping closer to her even as my eyes dart around the lot, hunting for evidence of her crimes.

“I mean, if he didn’t want NASA to slash his tires, he shouldn’t have had four of them on his car. One for each person? He was asking for it.”

I laugh again, louder this time. “But this wasn’t you, right? It’s all alleged.”

“Absolutely. And when NASA left, that same someone allegedly waited inside your truck behind the tinted windows so she could watch Connor find the busted tires, then try to fix it himself, then call AAA, then sit and suffer for an hour waiting, then be emasculated when he had to watch another man change his ti—”

“Okay, okay,” I laugh. “I get it. You’re a reckless witch, you know that?”

Her hands come to rest on my biceps, warm red nails against light blue fabric as she says, “You love me.”

The whiskey brown of her eyes is almost golden in the sunlight as I tell her, “I do love you. So much.”

Her expression softens—the hint of something vulnerable there. “And he signed the order?”

“Signed, sealed, delivered, baby.”

That’s all it takes to make her laugh, and the sound feels like victory. “Ew, you’re so cheesy.”

“You love me,” I say, echoing her own words.

And even now, after weeks of hearing it, my heart melts to the sound of her saying, “I do love you. So much.”