“So we’re going to…stay together?”
My head jerks back in confusion.
“What?”
“I can’t….” Her cheeks flare with a blush. “I can’t expect you to just hold tight for me for six months, Leo. Longer, once we calculate a rational breakup time. I?—”
“Six months in the grand scheme of a lifetime with you doesn’t really matter to me, honey,” I say, the words spilling without even thinking, but once they leave my lips, I don’t have any regret, even if her eyes go wide with surprise.
“I can’t tell the future, but I know that I’ve spent eight years regretting not taking that jump with you. Eight years regretting suggesting you fake date Riggins, which in turn meant I spent eight years watching you be with men who didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you, much less date you. Much lesskissyou. It’s only been one night, but for me, it’s been eight years and then two weeks of being tempted by you, of realizing it’s always been you, of realizing you’ve always been perfect for me. I work a lot. That’s been an issue for women in the past, but I like knowing you won’t hold it against me, just as I will never hold it against you. I understand it’s not just a job for you: it’s who you are, to your core. I would never try to tell you how to navigate that.” I reach up with both hands, combing her hair back and holding her face in my hands before bending to press my lips to her knuckles. “Plus, it’s not just your work getting in the way; my contract with Perfect Image has about a year more on it.”
“Okay…” she says, hesitantly.
“It’s not just your relationship with Chris; we’re going to have to wait out. It‘s my contract.” Her brows furrow deeper, but she waits for me to explain. “My contract with Perfect Image has alittle over a year left on it. There’s a non-fraternization clause: I can’t be with anyone who is my client, or it’s grounds for termination.”
“So you’d be leaving Perfect Image because of me?” she asks, and I can hear the unwarranted guilt in her words, so quickly I shake my head and clarify.
“No. I’ve been planning to leave once my contract is up for a while. I want to start my own small boutique firm.” She widens her eyes with surprise. “I’m not happy there. I hate working with Jefferson, and our styles are far too different.” She nods, probably already knowing that herself. “I’d leave now, but if I quit or I’m fired with merit, I can’t represent any of my current clients until their term expires, which would mean they all—Atlas Oaks, Harper, and even you—would have to work with Jefferson or someone else until that period expires, and not for nothing, everyone in this industry is a piece of shit.”
She nods, ideas and thoughts moving through her mind before finally nodding.
“Okay,” she finally says, some decision made up already. “Okay, so a year? A year and then we can be open?”
I nod, never mind what she’s going to think, but she smiles. “I can handle a year of being secret if it means at the end, I get you.”
And that time, when I kiss her, it ends with her moaning my name as I seat her on the edge of the kitchen counter and show her just how grateful I am we’re on the same page.
TWENTY-THREE
WILLA
The second—well, third, I suppose—morning I wake up in Leo’s bed, I’m not awoken by the sun creeping in or an alarm or even the feeling of Leo’s eyes as he watches me sleep, like the day before.
No, I’m awoken by a banging outside.
I jolt upright, my mind racing to catch up, to wake up and understand what is happening. Looking around the room, I’m confused for a moment. Although I’ve woken up in this room before, it’s still unfamiliar, and it takes me a moment to figure out what’s happening with the added stress of the loud noises outside.
Until a rough hand slides over my skin to my hip, squeezing me there, gently.
My eyes drift down to see a sleepy, rumpled Leo beside me. Like this, he looks five years younger, without the pressure or stress of work, his hair a mess, his eyes squinting up at me, and with the look, the past two days come back to me.
I’m in Leo’s bed because I’m nowLeo’s.
I smile down at him as he looks up at me, but when the sound comes again, his brow furrows with a mix of irritation andconfusion. “What the hell is that?” he asks. My attention moves back to the sound, which I now realize is someone knocking on Leo’s front door. Nerves flood my system, worry, and panic so strong, nerves I haven’t felt since I stepped foot into Holly Ridge. Nerves that my real life has found me here in my fairytale one.
“Someone’s at your door, I think.”
“My door?” he asks, sitting up next to me and turning towards the sound. The knocking comes again, more insistent this time. Leo bends, pressing a soft kiss to my bare shoulder, and a shiver rolls through me. Despite the chaos infiltrating our peaceful morning, he gives me a wicked smile. “You stay here, I’ll go figure it out. It’s probably a telemarketer.” I don’t necessarily buy that, but I nod all the same, watching as he shifts out of bed, then slides on a pair of loose shorts before padding towards the door. “Don’t leave this bed, I’ll be right back.” There’s a glint in his eye, and I can’t help but smile, shaking my head. Once he’s gone, I flop back onto the bed and smile at the ceiling, this new feeling bursting from my chest.
A thought enters my mind, one about feeling sunshine inside and outside after a perfect lazy night, and that feeling grows inside me as I realize it’s a lyric. I reach for my phone to get it down, but before I touch my fingers to it, I hear a familiar voice.
“Out of the way, pretty boy, we have work to do.” I sit up quickly, looking towards the door, my brows coming together is confusion, because I think Iknowthat voice, but there’s no reason for it to be in Leo’s house.
“What the hell?” Leo asks, but his voice is more annoyed than concerned.
“We’ve been summoned,” another familiar voice says.
“Hey, Leo, how’s it going?” a third voice asks, soft and lilting, and with it, I whip the blankets back, stumbling to the ground and reaching around on the ground for something—anything—to throw on. I find my panties and Leo’s shirt, sliding both on just in time.
