He exhales, thumb tracing the line of my jaw. “There’s nothing more that I want than to be with you. But I’m realizing now that I want you to behappybeing with me too. I want you in the place that excites you, that lets you become everything you’re meant to be. If that place is London…” His blue eyes hold mine. “Then I’ll go to London. Wherever you are is where I want to be.”
Emotion rises so fast I have to swallow around it.
I cradle his face in both hands and lean in, pressing my mouth to his. The kiss is unhurried, gentle, filled with gratitude rather than urgency. It saysthank you. It saysI see you. It saysI know what this means and I don’t take it lightly.
His hands settle at my waist, fingers flexing just enough to pull me closer. He kisses me back like this is all he’s been waiting for.
It’s a kiss that feels like a promise. A beginning.
Then my stomach growls. Loudly.
Nathaniel jerks back like I’ve confessed to some unspeakable suffering. “Baby,” he says, horrified, “how could I have let you go hungry?”
A laugh bursts out of me, as I take in the stricken look on his face. I open my mouth to reassure him, but he’s already retracing the morning under his breath, eyes narrowing in concentration.
“You had no appetite this morning. Then I dragged you into an existential crisis. Then we”— his gaze drops to the ring, and he breaks into a grin that is downright indecent— “gotverydistracted before I proposed.”
He lifts his hand to my cheek, thumb sweeping tenderly across my skin. “My fiancée cannot live on orgasms and adrenaline alone!” he declares like it’s a personal failing.
Fiancée.My laughter softens into a smile.
I tap his chest lightly. “Well, then you’d better get started on a fresh batch of pancakes.”
THE END
epilogue 1
OLIVIA — 5 YEARS LATER
The floor is nearlysilent at this hour, save for the hum of the vents and the occasional elevator chime. My desk lamp casts a soft amber glow over my office, where my coffee sits half-finished beside the keyboard, my jacket carelessly draped over my chair, and a stack of annotated files lies arranged in the order I plan to tackle them tomorrow. Beyond the glass, Manhattan stretches out in its nighttime shimmer, settling into its quieter hours and the version of the city I’ve come to love most.
The strategy deck I’m working on is nearly done. Only one last section stands between me and Monday’s acquisition review. This is the kind of work that draws me in completely, where I get so engrossed in the numbers and the story behind them that time moves almost unnoticed. And it feels right. This is the life I chose for myself—built with intention, one steady step at a time.
Caldwell Ventures has become a big part of that.
As a mentor, Charles is meticulous in the way he challenges me—always probing, always listening, never once reducing my place here to the fact that I married into the Caldwell name. Mycolleagues also learned early on to treat me as a teammate first and Nathaniel’s wife second. That distinction is most important to me because I want to stand on ground I’ve earned, knowing the respect I receive here is deserved.
Nathaniel recognizes this and gives me the space to define my own path at the firm, proud to cheer from the sidelines and always ready with support when I reach for him. It’s a balance that works for us—each of us stewarding our own work, meeting in the middle for the projects that matter most.
I take a break, stretching out my fingers before switching over to my inbox. A dozen unread notifications wait for me, but one snags my attention:
From:Hannah Lee [[email protected]]
To:Olivia Bennett
Subject:Saw you in the FT—Congratulations!
Hey Liv,
Just read the Financial Times feature on the Caldwell deal you led.
Massive congratulations—you’ve always had this in you.
Hope New York is treating you just as well as you once treated us.
Best,
Hannah
