"They love you too."
We finish dinner and move to the living room, settling on the couch with fresh glasses of wine. The city glitters below us through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and Avery curls into my side like it's the most natural thing in the world. Like she belongs here. Like this is where she's always meant to be.
I kiss her then, slow and deep, pouring everything I feel into the contact. Love and relief and gratitude and hope. When we break apart, both breathing hard, I rest my forehead against hers.
"I love you," I tell her, and this time when she says it back, there's no fear in her eyes. Just certainty. Just a choice to be with me.
"I love you too," she whispers. "And I'm sorry it took me so long to be brave enough to say it without reservations."
"You were worth the wait."
We stay like that for a long moment, wrapped in each other while the city hums below. Then Avery pulls back slightly, a smile playing at her lips.
"So what happens now? What's next for us?"
"Now we show them," I say simply. "We show everyone who doubted you that you earned your position on merit. That you continue to excel regardless of our relationship. That loving youwas the smartest decision I ever made because you make me better at everything I do."
She kisses me again, quick and sweet. "What did I do to deserve you?"
"Exist. That's pretty much it. Low bar, I know."
She laughs, settling back against my chest. My arm comes around her automatically, and we sit in comfortable silence for a while. The wine sits forgotten on the coffee table.
The silence speaks of comfort and understanding, and not needing to fill every moment with words.
My phone buzzes on the coffee table. I ignore it, but Avery reaches for it before I can stop her.
"It's Jake," she says, reading the screen. "He's asking if I want anything in particular to celebrate. I’m partial to the chicken myself."
The casual way she reads my texts feels significant somehow. Like we've crossed some invisible threshold into something more permanent, more real.
"Do you really want to go?" I ask. “There’s no pressure.”
She looks at me like I've asked something absurd. "Of course I want to go. Your family is wonderful."
"They are."
I take the phone from her and type a quick response to Jake:We'll be there. Tell Mom that Avery says the chicken is her favorite.
"That's not what I said," Avery protests.
"It's what you meant."
She laughs and settles back against me, and I realize with stunning clarity that this is what my father meant about taking risks. Loving Avery isn't just worth the risk. It's the best decision I've ever made. Better than rebuilding the company, better than any acquisition, merger, or business deal. This woman in myarms, choosing me despite her fear, trusting me with her heart despite everything she's been through—this is what matters.
"Stay," I say quietly.
"I was planning to head home soon—"
"No, I mean stay. Tonight. Tomorrow. However long you want." I pull back to look at her directly. "I know we said we'd go slow, and we can. But Avery, I don't want you to leave. I want you here. I want to wake up with you tomorrow and make you terrible coffee and argue about contract law over breakfast."
She studies my face, and I can see her processing, considering. "Are you sure? That's a big step."
"I'm sure. But only if you're ready. No pressure."
For a long moment, she doesn't answer. Then a slow smile spreads across her face. "Okay."
"Okay?"
