"We should celebrate your accomplishments like this more often."
I laughed, pressed a kiss to her hair. "I'll start studying for my next certification tomorrow."
She swatted my chest. I caught her hand, brought it to my lips.
Watson chose that moment to yowl from outside the bedroom door, deeply offended at his exile.
"Someone's upset," Ava murmured.
"He'll get over it."
"Will he? He held a grudge against the vacuum cleaner for three weeks."
I pulled her closer, tangled my legs with hers. "Then he can add this to the list. I'm not moving."
The cat could wait. Everything else could wait.
Later, much later, we lay tangled in the sheets, sweaty and satisfied, city lights painting patterns on the ceiling.
"I have something for you," Ava said.
She slipped out of bed and crossed the room to her dresser. Came back with a small box.
I sat up, took it from her hands. Inside, nestled in velvet, was a stethoscope. High-quality, I could tell at a glance. The kind used in hospitals.
And engraved on the chest piece, in small, precise letters:Brian Torres, NRP,and today’s date.
My throat went tight. I turned the stethoscope over in my hands, ran my thumb across the engraving.
"For your first official shift," Ava said. Her voice was soft, uncertain, like she wasn’t sure how I’d react. "I know the department will give you one, but I wanted you to have something that's yours. Something that was?—"
I pulled her back onto the bed, kissed her until neither of us remembered to breathe.
"I love you," I said against her lips. "I love you so much."
"I love you too." She was smiling, eyes bright. "Now put that somewhere safe. I'm not done celebrating."
That night, I lay in the dark, listening to Ava breathe, and let it all wash over me. She was curled against me, her head on my shoulder. Her breathing was slow and steady. Moonlight spilled through the curtains, painting silver stripes across the sheets and catching the angles of her face. She looked peaceful. Unguarded. Mine.
I let my mind drift to everything that had happened this week. The certification. The case was finally moving forward. Sloane’s article was out in the world, telling the truth about what happened to Derek Edwards. The Langs were facing justice. Ava, was safe and warm and here.
Carmen's voice used to find me in moments like this. Late nights. Quiet rooms. Whispering that I wasn't enough. That I'd never be enough. That someone like Ava would eventually see through me and leave, just like Carmen had.
But the voice was quiet now. Erased by months of Ava looking at me like I mattered.
Like saving lives meant something. Like I was exactly the man she wanted.
I pressed a kiss to the top of Ava's head. She stirred, murmured something unintelligible, and burrowed closer.
I'd wanted a lot of things in my life. The career. The family. The woman who made me believe I could be more.
Lying in that bed, Ava in my arms, my certification earned and her gift waiting on the nightstand, I realized I had all of it.
Everything I’d ever wanted.
I closed my eyes and let sleep pull me under, holding on.
CHAPTER 14
