The silence that follows feels different. Charged with the weight of Nick’s quiet. His expression turns tender, making my chest ache.
"We'll figure it out," he says. His voice is low, certain. He gathers me to him, wrapping me in his arms. "Whatever you need, angel. We'll figure it out."
I exhale. Let my weight settle into him. The anxiety that's been buzzing beneath my skin all evening finally, finally begins to quiet.
We haven't solved anything, not really. The wedding is still on. The guests are still coming, the press is still circling, the whole elaborate production is still barreling toward us like a runaway train.
But something has shifted tonight. Or maybe something has settled, instead.
His heartbeat pulses against me, steady and slow. His mouth brushes my temple. Not a kiss, just presence.
Tomorrow there will be logistics. Decisions. The endless machinery of a wedding that's just two weeks away. But tonight, there's just this. The two of us at the window, the city sprawled out beneath us, and the truth finally spoken between us like something precious we'd both been afraid to hold.
"I love you," I tell him. Simple. True.
His arms tighten around me. "I love you too. More than you can know."
I smile against his chest. I needed this connection. This moment, this man, this quiet certainty that only exists in his arms.
22
NICK
I sit in myoffice at Baine International the next morning, replaying everything that happened yesterday. The ER visit. The relief at hearing Avery and the baby were both all right. The quiet evening she and I spent at home afterward, just the two of us.
Her words have been turning over in my head since she said them. The wistfulness in her voice. The way she looked at me, almost apologetic, when she'd only spoken what has been living inside me for a long time too.
I don't need the big wedding.
I wish we could be in two places at the same time.
She’d confessed it with quiet longing, wanting something she'd evidently already convinced herself was out of her reach. An impossible wish.
She should know me better by now. I don't accept out of reach or impossible. Not when it comes to her.
I left her sleeping in our bed this morning, sheets twisted low around her hips, her hair a pale gold spill across my pillow.Although I would have much preferred to stay and make love to her again, the clarity I woke up with demanded forward motion.
I know what Avery needs. Rest. True relaxation. Time that belongs just to us, away from the chaos and the decisions and everyone who wants a piece of who we are.
The doctor's orders were clear. Minimize stress. Yet I've spent the last few weeks doing the opposite, not to mention feeding a personal vendetta that’s only kept the wound open and invited more rumors and speculation. I’ve been bringing more pressure to Avery’s life when I should have been sheltering her from it.
That ends today.
I have a plan. Several, actually. But one thing at a time.
The intercom on my desk buzzes. "Andrew is here," Lily announces.
"Send him in."
Beck enters with his usual unhurried efficiency. Leather briefcase, tailored suit, the steady demeanor of a man who's grown accustomed to navigating some of my worst impulses and emerged unscathed. He settles into the chair on the other side of my desk.
"The Melbourne development contracts are ready for signature," he says, pulling several folders from his briefcase and arranging them in front of me. "Legal flagged two clauses in the liability section, but I've handled it. The Chelsea rec center gala is confirmed for the tenth. Venue, catering, security all locked. Everything’s there for your review.” He points to the third folder. “And I have Rennick's response to our initial filing."
I glance at it but leave it lying on the desk.
"They're posturing," Beck continues, obviously mistaking my hesitation for uncertainty. "They're running scared. We can accelerate the timeline if you want, start turning the screws. Another week of pressure and they'll—"
"Let it go."
