“It’s because I know choosing to be with you is selfish on my part. Life with someone like me isn’t going to be easy. Even if I retire, I won’t stop being in the spotlight. The press will still want to find ways to make headlines and they’ll try to tear you apart even if they can see for themselves you’re not like all the others. You’re all that’s good in this world, and—”
I can’t help it any longer.
I throw myself back into his arms.
Because all of those words he’s saying only mean one thing, and it’s what making my own heart feel like it’s about to burst.
“Santino...”
His powerful body stiffens upon hearing me whisper his name, and I realize that a part of him is expecting me to turn him down.
“I know I could’ve explained things better,” he grits out. “But I’m not good at this, and I need you...I need you to give me another chance. I’m going to be better at this, so just—”
His words disappear as I stand on my toes so I can reach up and cover his mouth with mine.
I love you, too.
And I know he’s heard this because he’s suddenly kissing me back, kissing me more deeply and fiercely than ever, and his kiss...
It’s saying the same thing, too.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
Epilogue
THREE WEEKS LATER
“Mrs. Pit Stop!”
The nickname makes my cheeks warm even before I look up from the espresso machine I’ve been cleaning for the third time this morning. Jolie stands at the counter with that familiar grin, her worn copy ofWuthering Heightstucked under one arm like always, the dust jacket faded to the color of old parchment.
“Stop calling me that,” I say, but my smile gives me away.
How can I not smile? I’m standing in the café I helped design—warm cedar walls that still smell like fresh-cut wood, industrial espresso machine that hums like a living thing, windows overlooking the track where children’s laughter echoes between engine roars. The apron I wear says “Pit Stop Coffee” in racing-stripe letters across my chest, and the ring on my left hand catches the Wyoming morning in fractured rainbows.
Twenty-four days married.
I still wake up reaching for him, needing to confirm he’s real.
“Can’t stop, won’t stop,” Jolie says, leaning against the counter the way she always does when she’s about to say something that will make me want to hide in the walk-in cooler. “It’s too perfect. Plus, you’re literally running a pit stop. Santino made you a café attached to a racing school. If that’s not romance novel territory, I don’t know what is.”
“It’s just coffee—”
“Semantics.” Jolie glances at her phone, and her dark eyes go wide in a way that makes her look younger than twenty-three. “Oh! I have to go. Today’s my first day.”
“First day of what?”
“The one-day racing experience course.” She’s already backing toward the door, clutching her book against her chest like a shield. “I signed up weeks ago. Remember? I told you at Bible study?”
Oh, right.
I did forget about that...but I have no time to wish he luck since she’s already out of the door.
I turn back to the espresso machine.
