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“I’m sorry, Cami.”

I blink, turning to him, wondering if I’ve ever heard him apologize for anything. In fact, I don’t think I have. I’ve worked with him for years, and he’s never said he was sorry, even when he was objectively in the wrong.

It’s something I didn’t even think was possible.

And yet, here he is. Apologizing to me.

I avoid thinking about what that might mean and turn to him, tilting my head. “Sorry for what?”

He flashes me a chagrined smile that’s so boyish and handsome it makes something flutter in my stomach. I try to ignore that, too. It’s probably just the hot chocolate.

“Oh, I see,” he says, taking a step closer to me, so I catch a whiff of his expensive cologne. “You want to draw this out. That’s fine.”

“I do not want to draw it out,” I protest. “I just⁠—”

“I’m sorry for overreacting. Earlier. About the letter. And, for the record, I wasn’t snooping in your stuff. Your phone fell off the bed, and I was just picking it up when I found the letter. It’s none of my business what you want to do with your career and your life.”

I reach out, taking his hand, holding it in mine. Once again, even through the gloves, I can feel that thing there between us, pulsing. Alive and real, begging for a little attention.

“It is your business, Patrick,” I whisper, staring down at his hand between mine. “I should have told you the moment things…changed. Between us.”

It could mean the moment we agreed to this arrangement. It could mean something else. Us sitting and watching movies in his living room. Laughing. My hands on his cheeks, my heart in his hands.

“This company has been my entire life. Business, success, making money—it’s been my entire life.” Patrick stares down at our clasped hands, his voice quiet. “I used to think that meant I was dedicated. But now I think it might have been a way for me to avoid everything else. Things that felt scary.”

I feel like I can hardly breathe. “Really?”

He looks up, meets my eyes steadily. “Yeah. I…well, I never really had a great relationship with my parents. But losing them was still hard. And if losing them was hard, I guess I just thought…that if I got close to anyone else, it could break me. Losing them.”

The way Patrick is looking at me now, I can see that he’s thinking about losing me. Does that mean I’m important to him? That he’s “close” to me?

“And, Cami, I…I guess I kind of saw you deciding to resign as someone jumping ship. Leaving me. But you have the right to go, obviously. And you don’t deserve any judgment for doing what’s right for you. For what it’s worth, it’s not just about you being the best account manager we have. It’s also just that you…make the office fun.”

For some stupid reason, that’s the most romantic thing he could have said to me.

It’s not just about my performance. Patrick likes having me around the office.

“Patrick—” I start to say something in response—though what, I’m not sure—when there’s a flicker of something over his face.

A light.

We hear the Morenos gasping as we tip our heads up and see the first shimmering blush of the northern lights. It’s so unprecedented, compared to everything else I’ve ever seen in my life, that it takes my brain a moment to fully comprehend what I’m seeing.

I grew up in the Rockies. I’ve seen bald eagles, wild horses. Have watched the sun split into a million pastel shades over the peaks of snowy mountaintops. Dipped my hand into a trickling stream of fresh spring water.

But none of that even comes close to this. It’s like looking up and seeing heaven. It’s like stepping into a different world.

“Oh my God,” Patrick murmurs, and I feel his hands on my hips just as I put my hands on his shoulders, stepping into him out of sheer excitement and joy.

“Oh my God!” I second, looking down and realizing my nose is brushing against his. “Patrick, we’re actually seeing them.”

“We’re in them, Cami.” His eyes drop to my lips.

Mine are already on his, my breath shallow, my pulse like a fluttering butterfly on my wrist.

And then, just as the lights come into full bloom, Patrick plants a hand on the small of my back, draws me into him, and covers my lips with his own.

CHAPTER 23