“I’m also late a lot. Like, most of the time. The wedding was different. I was on a specific schedule, which helps. I also tend to be a daydreamer. Mark always said my head was in the clouds. I mean, I get so wrapped up in my creative projects sometimes that I forget things. Like eating.”
Tristan looks like he’s trying not to laugh. “Is that it? The end of your great list of reasons I should walk away?”
I nibble on my bottom lip and twist my fingers together, not sure what to say or do. I just cut myself open and showed him the ugly side of being with me, and he’s acting like it’s a joke.
“I’m serious,” I say, my voice cracking as I try to rein in my emotional reaction. “It bothered Mark. Better you know now before you get in deep with me.”
Tristan’s smirk vanishes, and he pulls me into him again, this time hugging me so tight I can barely breathe. But I don’t want him to stop.
“Those things you just listed? That’s your list of flaws? Come on, sweetheart. There’s nothing that’s a deal-breaker. So, you’re not perfect. Who is? In fact, perfect sounds boring. I’d much rather have you the way you are.”
Something shifts inside of me at those words. I can’t say Mark’s reactions don’t matter to me because my relationship with him will always be a part of the past that shaped me into who I am today. But Icansay Tristan’s acceptance of me, flaws and all, makes me realize Mark was overly critical. And mean.
“Thank you,” I tell him.
With a warm smile, he cups my cheek and I lean into his touch. “Does this mean we’re a real couple now?” I ask cheekily.
Tristan’s eyes gleam with happiness. “Well, I fell hard for you, so I hope so.”
His words are good enough for me. Lifting onto my toes, I press a kiss to his lips. Hopefully, the first of many more to come.
EPILOGUE
Tristan
One Year Later
Ifinish myscotch and check my watch, seeing I’ve been waiting at the restaurant for twenty minutes. The bartender is lingering nearby, and I know he’s going to come over soon to offer me another drink. It’s a tempting thought because I feel unusually nervous. But I want to have a completely clear head when Kaylee arrives. It’s more important tonight than ever.
I glance at my phone, checking one of Midnight’s social media pages. Tonight, Lucas is running things while a very popular local band plays at the club for the first time. According to the social media posts and tags, it’s going well.
Satisfied, I tuck my phone in my pocket just as familiar blonde hair catches my eye.
Kaylee’s arrived. Her gaze meets mine and she glances down, feeling guilty for being late. No matter how many times I tell her I expect it, she feels bad. She passes the hostess stand, then walks over to the bar where I’m waiting for our table to be ready.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” she says, obviously flustered.
She wasn’t lying when she told me she’s often late for things. After a year together, I’ve come to realize it’s especially bad when she’s busy with work. Her beautiful, creative mind gets so wrapped up in whatever she’s doing that time fades away for her.
She’s in the middle of planning a large party for a corporation that’s used her company before, so she’s got plenty on her to-do list.
“I didn’t mean to be late.”
I laugh as I rise and press a kiss to her cheek. I’d normally pull her in closer for a proper kiss hello, but I’m worried that if her body is pressed against mine, she’ll feel the little box in my pocket and tonight’s surprise will be ruined.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I expect it by now.”
Kaylee gasps and slaps my arm, and I just grin at her.
She knows I don’t mean anything by my comment. Some people might be bothered by her running late, but I find it charming. She’s not intentionally thoughtless. She’s just a little scatterbrained sometimes. A year ago, she told me Mark called her a daydreamer like it’s a bad thing. I don’t see it that way. Yes, she gets carried away sometimes when her mind latches onto a creative idea, but that’s what I’m here for. I keep her grounded and take care of her in any way she needs me to. And at work, she has Alissa, her assistant to keep her on point.
“We didn’t lose our reservation, did we?” she asks, looking more guilty than before.
“No. I told you to be here a half hour before the time of the reservation.”
Her mouth opens wide. “So, I’m actually ten minutes early?”
I laugh again. “Sure, baby. Think of it that way if you’d like. We both know you’re late.”
