Or my mom.
Maybe even one of the guys from the bar.
I do not expect to see Mindy.
But there she is. The most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.
She’s standing in the waiting area, arms folded loosely, still in her ridiculous accidental-biker outfit, cowboy hat gone but confidence very much intact.
For a second I just stop.
She looks tired. Not shaken. Not furious.
Just so damn beautiful and present.
The officer hands me my wallet and keys in a plastic tray. I sign where he tells me to sign. My brain is somewhere else entirely.
With her.
When I finally step forward, she unfolds her arms.
“I—” I start. “Mindy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you into?—”
She closes the distance and kisses me.
Not tentative.
Not angry.
It’s full of heart and passion.
Strong enough, it steals the rest of my apology straight out of my mouth.
When she pulls back, her hands stay curled in the front of my shirt.
“Never have I ever,” she says softly, “been so impressed by a man.”
My brain takes a second to catch up.
“Impressed?”
“You tried to de-escalate that the entire time,” she continues. “You told him to leave. You gave him options. You didn’t go looking for a fight.”
I blink. “You’re not… mad?”
“Mad?” She shakes her head. “He put his hands on me. You stopped him.”
Her voice doesn’t tremble. It doesn’t dramatize. It’s calm and clear.
“I was worried you thought I lost control,” I admit.
“You didn’t,” she says firmly. “You were controlled until you couldn’t be anymore.”
The tension that’s been sitting between my shoulders all night loosens.
“I talked to the officer,” she adds. “They’re not filing charges. Security footage showed exactly what happened.”
I let out a long breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
