And my incredible mother, who sacrificed her freedom in order to let me keep mine.
Nick's hands frame my face, water running over his wrists. "She protected you when you needed it most. Now I’m going to spend the rest of my life doing the same." His eyes hold mine. "She's trusting me with you. I don't take that lightly."
My throat tightens. I rise on my toes and kiss him, soft at first, then deeper, when his arms band around me and pull me against his body. The water falls over us, warm and endless, and I lose myself in the taste of him, the feel of him, the solid certainty of what we're building together.
A phone rings from the bedroom. Distant but insistent, cutting through the rush of water.
Nick growls against my mouth. "That’s mine. Ignore it."
"It might be important."
"Nothing's more important than this." But even as he says it, I feel his attention shift, the slight tension returning to his shoulders, the part of him that's always aware of his responsibilities. The phone keeps ringing. "Goddamn it."
"Go." I push gently at his chest. "Answer it. I'll finish up here."
He hesitates, clearly reluctant, then presses one more hard kiss to my mouth before stepping out of the spray. I watch him grab a towel from the heated rack, wrapping it hastily around his hips without properly drying off. Water still drips from his hair, his shoulders, trailing down his back as he disappears into the bedroom.
I turn my face up into the spray and let the hot water pour over me.
His voice drifts in from the other room, muffled but businesslike. "Beck. Yeah, I know—running late." A pause. "I'll be there within the hour."
I take my time finishing. Conditioning my hair, letting the heat soak into my muscles. By the time I turn off the water and step out, wrapping myself in one of the thick towels, Nick is standing in the bathroom doorway.
Still just the towel around his hips. Phone in hand. Expression slightly apologetic.
"I have to go," he says. He crosses to me, hands settling on my shoulders, and kisses my forehead. "There's an acquisition meeting across town I need to attend."
“Sounds exciting.”
He gives me a half-shrug. “Not as exciting as what I have to leave right here.”
I tilt my head at him, sensing he’s hedging somehow. “What are you acquiring today, my brilliant husband-to-be?"
He grins, and there’s a beat of hesitation, so brief I almost miss it. "Just something I’ve had my eye on for a while."
Vague. Deliberately so. But there's something in his tone that isn't worry or frustration. Almost the opposite—a current of suppressed anticipation, like he's working to keep his expression neutral.
I notice, but I don't press. We both have our secrets right now. Mine is waiting at the East Harlem studio, half-finished on an easel. A painting I've been pouring myself into for weeks. His wedding gift, though he doesn't know it yet.
Whatever he's hiding, there's no deception in it. Just something he wants to keep close until the right moment.
"Okay," I say. "I'm going to head to the studio for a few hours, then."
His hands tighten slightly on my shoulders. "The studio. After yesterday?"
"I’m working on something too." I meet his eyes steadily. "I'll be fine, Nick."
He studies my face, and I can see the war playing out behind his eyes. His need to protect me battling his respect for my independence. Yesterday's paparazzi ambush is still fresh for both of us.
"Okay. Patrick can take you," he says. "He's available this morning."
"Actually, I'd rather drive myself."
"Avery—"
"If you didn't want me driving in the city, you shouldn't have bought me such an incredible car."
The Mercedes AMG GT coupe he gave me six months ago is incredible. Sleek, midnight blue, fast enough to make my heart race. I'd protested when he first showed it to me. Too much, too expensive, I didn't need something so extravagant.
