Austin lets out a shout and pumps his fist in the air. “Hell yeah!”
Noah claps a hand on my back. “You did it, man.”
“Wedid it.” I say with a big smile.
We walk to our cars, already talking strategy. There’s a ton to do. Projects to wrap, timelines to shift, new teams to assemble. The future’s coming at us fast, but for once, it feels like we’re ready for it.
And me?
I’m driving home to a woman who makes everything worth it.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Eva
I’m curled up on the couch, half-watching some baking competition on TV, but mostly just waiting.
It’s almost nine. Esteban texted me over an hour ago that they were wrapping up dinner, and since then, I’ve been counting the minutes. I’ve got a blanket over my legs, a mug of now-cold tea beside me, and a nervous flutter in my chest that won’t go away.
My phone buzzes on the couch beside me, and I reach for it instantly.
Ashton: You guys. I’m going on a date tonight. With a man. A gorgeous man.
Met him at the salon today. He has cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. Pray for me.
Payton: Meanwhile, I’m over men. Like officially.
Ashton: You’re just jealous because I found Mr. Cheekbones. Also, you say this every other week.
Payton: AND I MEAN IT THIS TIME.
Payton: Not all of us want to be like Eva, shacked up with a literal Greek god who can cook and looks like sin in a suit.
Ashton: Speaking of which... any news on the Big McDeal?
Payton: I haven’t heard a peep. Not that they tell me anything either, but still. I need updates.
Payton: Also, if they DID get the deal, we better be celebrating with champagne. And tacos. Preferably both at once.
I smile at the screen, warmth blooming in my chest at how dramatic and ridiculous they are.
Me: Still no word. He should be home any minute. I’ll let you know. And Pay, don’t give up on men. Ashton hasn’t and look where he is now. On a date with a model. Probably.
Ashton: EXACTLY. Don’t kill my dream, Payton. Now go kiss your man when he walks in and report back ASAP.
I chuckle and set my phone down, glancing toward the front door.
Right on cue, it opens.
Esteban steps inside like he’s walking into a photoshoot. Dark dress pants, a navy-blue shirt that hugs his arms just right, and a black tie hanging a little loose like he’s had a long day. His beard’s freshly trimmed, green eyes shining with something bright and electric.
“Honey, I’m home,” he calls out, grinning like a dork.
I laugh, my heart doing a somersault. “Seriously?”
He shrugs. “I’ve been waiting my whole life to say that.”
I get up and walk toward him, warmth spreading through my chest like wildfire. I throw my arms around his waist, and he pulls me into him like he never wants to let go.
