"Good to know." He brings my hand to his mouth, kisses my knuckles. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For letting me into your life. All of it. Your work, your friends, your heart."
"Thank you for wanting in."
EPILOGUE
Three Months Later
I wake to sunlight streaming through the window and the smell of coffee.
Justin's side of the bed is empty, as usual. The man's internal alarm is set obscenely early, and no amount of me trying to drag him back to bed has changed that.
I stretch, feeling pleasantly sore from last night. We've settled into a rhythm over the past few months. We work together during the day, maintaining careful professionalism, then home to his place (or occasionally mine, though we both prefer his) where we shed the professional masks and just... are.
I pad downstairs in one of Justin's t-shirts to find him in the kitchen, making breakfast. He glances up when I enter, eyes warming.
"Good morning."
"Good morning." I move into his space, wrap my arms around his waist.
“I have a surprise to show you afterwork today,” he says with a smile.
"You're full of surprises lately."
"Am I?"
Over the past three months, he's been full of surprises. Small ones, like leaving notes in my locker at work, sending lunch when I forget to eat, showing up at my apartment with dinner after long shifts. And bigger ones, like the weekend trip to Denver where he took me to a bookstore and told me to buy whatever I wanted, then carried all twelve books to the register without complaint. Since deciding to throw myself into the job full-time, I’d taken on a management position at the park. My new title is Creative Director, and I’ve loved every second of it. Since the park is only open on the weekends right now, we spend the week planning special events and hosting weddings, business retreats and other events.
"Sit," he says now, gesturing to the counter. "Eat."
I watch him plate eggs and toast. He sets it in front of me with a glass of orange juice and a pointed look.
"All of it," he says.
"I know, I know. Three meals a day." I mimic. I’m not hungry, not in the slightest. It’s too early to eat.
"Plus, snacks when you're working long shifts."
"You're still very strict about this."
"Because you don't take care of yourself otherwise." He leans across the counter, cups my face. "Someone has to look out for you."
"And you've appointed yourself?"
"I have. Objections?"
I pretend to think about it for a minute. "Nope. None whatsoever."
"Good girl."
The praise still sends shivers through me. Even after three months, even though I hear it almost daily, it never gets old. I have an issue where if I get busy, I forget to eat. It’s caused me to have low blood sugar and even pass out from time to time. I was anorexic in high school, years ago, and even though I’ve gonethrough therapy and grown past it, old habits die hard. It’s not intentional but habitual and Justin has done a great job keeping me accountable for it.
We sit at the table together, discussing the day ahead. I take a bite of my eggs and push the rest around my plate as we talk. I’m working with the team to design a new logo for the Special Olympic Christmas in July party. He has meetings with the expansion team, the new location in Aspen is moving forward, and he's been traveling more for planning sessions.
"I'll be back by four," he says. "In time show you the surprise."
