“How many times,” he said between kisses, “am I going to have to get on one knee?”
I tipped his chin up with one hand, brushing my thumb over the faint stubble on his jaw. “Are you saying you’ll stop?”
His mouth curled against my thumb. “Not until I get you to say yes.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop my smile. “Hey, Lincoln?—”
“Yeah, babe?”
“I love you.”
He froze. His Adam’s apple bobbed hard as his gaze searched my face, confirming he hadn’t imagined it. Then his arms crushed me against him, one hand splayed over the small of my back, the other cupping the back of my head as intending to hold me there forever.
“Nina…” His voice was hoarse, almost reverent. “I know. I also know it hasn’t been easy loving me… after everything. And it makes me feel even luckier that you’re mine. So kind. So relentless. Our daughter has the best role model.”
Something in my chest went molten. He’d told me he loved me already so many times and in so many ways, but he’d never told me he saw all of me: the messy, stubborn, terrified parts as I dove deeper in with him.
“What do you think about Villanelle?” he said into my ear.
“Villanelle?” I leaned back from his embrace to see his face, a crimson tint rising in his cheeks.
“Yeah. For our daughter.” He drifted his left arm to his own side, resting just above the ink I’d memorized by touch and heart. “It means ‘song.’”
This man of mine.I pushed my weight onto my toes just enough to brush my nose against his. “You know,” I whispered, “when you say things like that, you make it really hard not to marry you.”
His grin was wolfish, but his thumb stroked over my jaw as if to ground me. He kissed me once, quick and sure, then straightened, offering me his arm. “Then let’s go show them,” he said, his palm sliding over my belly on the way down, “how you run the best businessandgrow my baby so well at the same time.”
As he held the door open for me, his thumb brushing absently over the curve of my belly, I let myself take in the man at my side who had once been my worst enemy and was now my safest place. I’d chosen him, chosen this life we were buildingbrick by brick, client by client, choice by choice. And in turn, he’d shown me I didn’t have to resign myself to waiting for the other shoe to drop. Alone.
So yes, soon, I’d put him out of his misery. I’d marry the obsessed bastard. But for now? He could sweat it out a little longer.
Epilogue 2
LINCOLN
Eleven months later …
Honestly, I hated the BrightMark account. Sure, it was a huge financial asset, and it had solidified Clean Slate’s position as an exceptional independent firm. But man, it was a boring pitch.
The conference room lights bounced off the glass table, washing every glossy printout and projection slide in that sterile glow I used to live for. Not anymore. These days, I lived for the seven-month-old baby strapped to my chest, drooling on my light crimson button-down and kicking her chubby feet against my hips.
And for the raven-haired woman watching me from across the table. Sometimes, I still woke up beside her, fixated on the motion of her breathing beneath her ribs, unable to believe she’d found it in her to give me a second chance. She might’ve been regretting it right now, though—her brow was furrowed as she forced a professional smile. Probably still pissed that I’d told Eleanor, one of the execs, that her grandkid was ugly.
Nellie, my daughter, made a soft coo as I clicked to the next slide, her tiny fingers curling around my lanyard and shovingit, along with half her fist, into her mouth—the most fascinating thing in the room.
“And as you can see,” I said evenly, “the graphics around the Earth Day campaign emphasize continuity and regeneration?—”
I wrestled the lanyard free. Nellie let out a squeal of protest that turned to delight when I handed her the purple silicone teether attached to it.
“These are concepts that align with BrightMark’s sustainability promise,” I continued, voice smooth, professional—even as I swayed lightly to keep Nellie entertained. “Concepts your audience can actually grasp.”
Under Priya’s unamused stare, I couldn’t resist adding, “That means fewer plastic-looking models and more actual impact.”
Eleanor shifted. Annelisa coughed. Across the table, Nina propped her chin on her hand, eyes narrowing—a silentBehave. I smirked.
The slide behind me shifted to the logo. “Mirrored geometry: two arcs that never quite touch, forming a continuous loop. Every decision ripples outward—like sound waves or impact echoing back.”
Nellie’s tiny fist found my thumb, squeezing tight before swapping it for the teether.I’m also bored as hell, baby girl.
