Those two statements, back to back, affirmed her in a way that left her throat tight.
All the tension. All the uncertainty. The part of her that had been trying so hard not to hope too much, not to lean too far, not to somehow mess this up too badly.
Bea blinked hard. Her chest ached. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around both of them, grounding herself in the familiar scent of garlic, soap, and safety.
“I love you guys,” she whispered.
“We love you too.”
Chapter Five
The Distillery District felt sprinkled with memory—brick lanes and crooked alleyways lit by warm bulbs overhead like stars someone had strung by hand. Snow clung in patches along the edges of the pavement. The wind carried hints of roasted nuts, woodsmoke, and fresh bread from somewhere nearby.
Now that he’d finished at St. Ives University and was stepping more fully into his role as heir to King Global Capital, security came with him everywhere like shadows. Bea hadn’t realized until now that St. Ives, with its collective safeguards, had actually been a reprieve from what he’d lived with all his life. The men, wordless but deadly, still caught her off guard sometimes.
Bea and Gage slipped into a bookstore near the corner. A hanging fern brushed Gage’s shoulder as they stepped between shelves.
“They still have it,” she said, crouching by a short bench tucked between the fantasy shelves. “I used to sit here and play make-believe that I was picking books for my castle’s library.”
Gage tilted his head. “Were you a princess?”
“I was the royal librarian,” she said proudly.
He gave her a long, amused look. “You’d be terrible at it.”
Bea stood. “Excuse me?”
“You’d read everything before shelving it.”
She laughed. “You’re not wrong.”
She angled her head sideways, tracing her fingers along the spines of the books as she read their titles. “You know…it’s funny being here with you.”
“Why?”
“I just wouldn’t have pictured it. A year ago I was still just a girl from Toronto.” She shrugged. “I came back to end the year the way I started it. But then you showed up on New Year’s Eve.”
Gage looked at her. “So you ended the year with me.”
She nodded, fingers brushing the edge of the book.
“Good,” he said.
Outside, snow had started to fall. Thin, scattered flakes drifting down like ash. The lights overhead stirred to life as the sky deepened to indigo. A violinist had set up near the corner, the music haunting and lovely.
They walked slower now, their pace falling into rhythm with the snowfall. Couples brushed past, hands linked. A group of college students laughed too loud behind them, then peeled off into a side street.
After a few blocks, Bea said, “Do you want some mini-donuts? They’re kind of a holiday Distillery thing.”
He lifted a brow. “Are you asking me, or telling me you want some?”
She smiled, nudged him lightly, and veered toward the vendor. A moment later, she returned with a small paper bag. She pulled it open and offered him one.
He took it, ate it without expression, then said, “They taste like sugar.”
“Theyaresugar.”
“I wasn’t complaining.”
