Page 123 of Break Points and Face Offs

“Nope.” I kiss him again, making sure I’ve got all the relish off his lips. “Will, how would you feel about starting a new group project with me?”

EPILOGUE

WILL

Itext Priestley before I hop on the subway after work.

Do you need me to pick anything up on my way home?

I keep checking my phone as I descend the steps, knowing I’ll lose connection as soon as I’m down in the tunnel.

His response comes through a couple of seconds later.

No, got dinner and picked up our dry cleaning.

That simple sentence shouldn’t make me grin the way it does, but I can’t describe how good it feels to have someone to share the load with.

We’ve got each other’s backs in every way two people can, and I think that’s something to smile about.

When I get to the station in Jersey, I pick up a bunch of flowers.

When I unlock the front door to the apartment, the air smells like that Thai place we love. My stomach instantly grumbles.

“Baby, you home?”

Priestley comes out of the bedroom in a pair of grey sweats and an old Princeton t-shirt. His black hair is swept neatly off his face and his pretty feet are bare.

A shy smile spreads across his face. I look down and remember the flowers in my hand.

“How very courtly of you, William,” he says.

I snort. “C’mere. How was your day?”

He pads over in his bare feet and takes the flowers before giving me a kiss. The old Priestley might have scoffed at cheap, train station flowers, noted the overkill of baby’s breath and lack of roses, but he’s getting better at not being a snob. Hanging around my family has been a good influence on him.

Priestley tells me about a difficult client his company is working with while I arrange the food onto plates and head over to the dining table.

The apartment is basic, and cheaper than apartments in the city. We want to move there eventually, but while we’re still new at our jobs and working our way up, it’s much smarter to commute and live somewhere more affordable. We’re able to plan out our own future business while we each get experience at other, more established companies and have the security of an income while we do it. It might be entry-level income but it pays the bills.

I always thought Priestley would rather have his hand amputated than lose his Black Card, but when his dad threw a hissy fit and took his credit cards away, he barely blinked an eye, even when he threatened to freeze his trust fund.

I play with his hand idly while we eat. He acts like he hasn’t noticed, though I know he loves it.

“How about you? I haven’t stopped complaining since the second you walked through the door,” he says.

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“No,” he says with a straight face. “You’re here for excellent blow jobs and because you look good naked.”

I laugh and shake my head. “Knew you only wanted me for my body.”

He flashes me a devilish smile before tucking back into his food.

“I should have picked up some dessert. I didn’t think.”

“There’s cheesecake in the fridge,” he says.

My head snaps up and he smiles.