I let out a long breath, my eyes fixed on the television. It’s a montage of the year’s highlights—grainy footage of the OJ Simpson car chase, clips fromThe Lion King, people dancing in oversized flannel shirts. It feels like a lifetime ago.
I let out a slow breath. “My mom came by the apartment a few weeks ago.”
Leo carefully sets his wine glass down on the coffee table. “Okay. Is that…a good thing or a bad thing?”
I shrug, the wool of my sweater scratching my neck. “Surprisingly, it went okay. She got a role in a new movie—Scorsese, actually. She’ll be filming here in the spring and summer. She wants to…spend time together.”
“That’s great, Annie,” he says, his voice soft. He pauses, and I can feel the hesitation in the air before he asks, “And your dad?”
I feel the muscles in his forearm tense where it’s pressed against mine. “I haven’t heard from him,” I say, keeping my voice even. “I don’t think I will again.”
Leo shakes his head, a slow, disbelieving movement. “That is just…unfathomable to me.”
“Unfortunately, when my dad says something, he means it. It’s his one consistent quality.”
“Are you okay with that?” he asks, searching my face.
“I’ll have to be, won’t I?” I pick at a loose thread on the cuff of my sweater, watching it unravel. “She came to tell me something else, too.”
Leo raises an eyebrow, waiting.
“Even though my dad… did what he did,” I continue, the words feeling clumsy, “my grandfather left me a trust. A separate one. Before he passed.”
Leo goes very still beside me. He doesn’t say anything.
“For twelve million dollars.”
Leo’s eyes widen until I can see the ring of amber around his pupils. His mouth literally hangs open, a rare lapse in his usual academic composure. “Holy shit,” he breathes. “Twelve? As in…ten plus two?”
I nod. He continues to stare at me, completely unblinkingI wave my free hand in front of his face. “Hello? Earth to Leo? Come back to us.”
He snaps out of it, running a hand through his hair and letting out a sudden, bark-like laugh that catches me off guard.
“What’s so funny?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
“I was almost going to feel bad for what I was going to tell you tonight,” he says, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “But now? I don’t feel bad at all.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “And what, pray tell, were you going to tell me?”
He leans in, his face so close to mine I can see the faint gold flecks in his eyes, the shadow of his lashes on his cheeks. For a second I think he’s going to kiss me. Instead, his voice drops to a low, playful rumble. “You’re fired, Ms. Collier. I’m sorry. You’re out of a job.”
I gape at him. “You are not serious.”
“Dead serious.”
From the TV, Dick Clark’s voice rises cheerfully over the crowd. “Alright, New York! Get ready! Here we go! Ten…nine…”
I smack his arm. “Leo! Why thehellwould you fire me? I’m great with Emma! I haven’t lost her once, I know all the words toTheLittle Mermaidsoundtrack, I can make a peanut butter sandwich in under thirty seconds—”
He cuts me off with a kiss—quick, firm, and thoroughly silencing. “I’m firing you,” he murmurs against my lips, “because I want you to move in with me instead.”
The world shrinks to the space between our faces. The riotous countdown from Times Square becomes a distant, muffled drumbeat. “…seven… six…”
“You do?” I whisper, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“I do.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my cheek. A smirk tugs at his mouth. “You’rehere all the time anyway. You have your own toothbrush in the bathroom. Your weird, spicy mustard is in the fridge. Half my socks are missing because you keep stealing them. The apartment feels wrong when you’re not in it.”
“…five… four…”
