He crossed the room in two hesitant steps, then stopped, as if the carpet itself might bite.“Arthur…” His voice cracked on my name.He pressed a fist to his mouth, shook his head, and tried again.“I shouldn’t have left things the way I did.I’ve been—God, I’ve been such an ass.”
I sat up, clutching the twisted sheets to my chest, my dignity long gone.“You have been,” I managed, half defiance, half desperation.
His lips trembled into the faintest, saddest smile I’d ever seen.“I know.And I can’t take it back.But I can tell you I’m sorry.I took advice from people who thought they were protecting me, trying to save my 'legacy.'And maybe they were well-meaning in their own warped way, but…” He blinked hard, and a single tear spilled free, tracing down his cheek.“I should’ve listened to my heart.Because my heart—” He swallowed, his voice breaking entirely— “my heart only wants you.”
The words detonated inside me.
Bryce sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, as though afraid the whole fragile moment might shatter if he moved too fast.His knee brushed mine through the blankets—the barest contact, but it sent lightning up my spine.
I couldn’t hold back anymore.Tears spilled hot and fast.“Do you mean that?”I croaked.“Because I’ve been tearing myself apart, Bryce.Hating you, loving you, not knowing if I'd ever see you again—” My breath hitched.“And I still...I still love you.”
His hand found mine.Warm.Shaking.He squeezed, and suddenly both of us were crying—messy sobs that should have been embarrassing but felt like the only honest thing in the world.We leaned into each other, foreheads pressed together, tears mingling.
“I love you, Arthur,” he whispered.“I never stopped.Every stupid, lonely second I spent at the Residence, I thought about your laugh, your stubbornness, the way you make the world feel like it’s actually worth saving.My career—it’s nothing if it means losing you.”
I clutched his jacket, afraid that if I let go, he might vanish back into the London fog.“I thought you were gone for good.That I’d lost you to the State Department.”
“Never.”He cupped my face, his thumbs brushing my tears away even as more fell from his own eyes.“I’m done hiding.I'm done choosing what looks 'respectable' over what I know is real.”
I kissed him then—I couldn't help myself.The taste of him, the catch of his breath, the heat of his mouth pressed to mine—it was raw, desperate, and alive.We kissed like we’d both been starving in a desert and finally found a spring.
When we broke apart, gasping for air, my cheeks ached from trying to smile through the tears.I tried for a bit of levity, if only to keep from drowning in the intensity of it.“Full disclosure,” I sniffled, “I haven’t bathed in days.Eddie was quite insistent about that.”
Bryce let out a shaky, beautiful laugh, his forehead resting against mine.“Arthur, kissing you is like… finally stepping into the sun after a lifetime of winter.”His eyes gleamed with a sudden, fierce light.“I don’t care if you smell like a locker room.I’d still choose your lips over oxygen.”
I barked a watery laugh, then crushed my mouth to his again.This kiss was slower, deeper—less about the hunger and more about the promise.
When we finally pulled apart, I whispered, “So what now?What happens to us?”
His smile faltered, just for a second.He took my hands in his, his gaze steady and solemn.“What happens now is… I resign.”
The words knocked the breath clean out of me.“What?Bryce, no.”
“I can’t be the Ambassador anymore,” he said, shaking his head with a finality that silenced me.“The world doesn't care about my diplomatic record.They only care about who I love.And I cannot do my job with integrity if every move I make is judged through the lens of a 'scandal.'So I’m walking away.I’m starting over.”His grip on my hands tightened.“But only if you’ll be by my side.”
My throat closed up.“You’d give it all up?For me?”
His eyes shone with a clarity I’d never seen in them before.“I’d give up everything for you, Arthur.Because what’s the point of a legacy if the only person you want to share it with isn't there?”
A sob tore free, but this one wasn't about despair—it was joy, fierce and overwhelming.I buried my face against his shoulder, clutching him like a lifeline.
“Arthur,” he murmured into my hair, crying as hard as I was, “tell me you’ll say yes.”
“Yes, Bryce.A thousand times, yes.”
Epilogue
Arthur- One Year Later
The glass interior glittered like a dream.
Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the relentless hum of Fifth Avenue—yellow cabs honking, tourists gawking, the whole manic orchestra of New York City.Inside, the new Clarence Atelier flagship store gleamed: marble floors polished to a mirror shine, velvet drapery in shades of midnight blue, and brass rails that curved like vintage jewelry.
I trailed my fingers along a mannequin wearing one of our new signature pieces—a three-piece suit in a charcoal silk-wool blend, the lining a hidden shock of electric violet.My chest swelled with a quiet, steady pride.
Chris strutted a few paces behind me, hands clasped at the small of his back like he was inspecting a royal guard.His eyes scanned every inch—the architectural lines of the shelving, the lighting fixtures, the way a sleeve fell.“Well,” he declared finally, adjusting his own patterned cravat, “it doesn’t look entirely dreadful.”
I shot him a look over my shoulder.“High praise indeed, Chris.”
