Chapter forty-three
Lindsay
My heart is pounding so hard I can barely hear the question over the roar of blood in my ears. Arthur Dupree—billionaire, father, my ex-boss turned husband—is standing in front of me in a knockoff Spider-Man costume, asking if we can try again. Make things real.
I don't answer him. I don't weigh the question or analyze the risk or think about headlines or money or contracts or how this could go wrong.
I step forward and kiss him.
It's not dramatic. No sweep. No fireworks. Just my hands fisting in the ridiculous fabric of his superhero suit and my mouth finding his.
He freezes for half a second, stunned.
Then he kisses me back. When I pull away, I'm laughing and breathless and absolutely certain.
Arthur blinks at me. "That's... a yes?" he asks carefully. "Because I do better with written language."
I laugh, pressing my forehead to his chest. "Yes. Capital Y. No footnotes."
He exhales like something heavy finally loosened. "Good."
Henry lets out a dramatic sigh beside us. "Finally."
Arthur shoots him a look. "You orchestrated this."
"I just provided location data." Henry shrugs. Then his face lights up. "Oh. I almost forgot."
Henry pulls a small black box from his backpack. Inside is a ring with the largest cubic zirconium diamond I've ever seen.
He hands it to Arthur. "She needs a ring to match her 'bling'."
I laugh as Arthur presents it to me.
Quinn claps once. "I love a successful operation," she says, and then mercifully peels away to give us space.
A small crowd has gathered around us—not because we're famous, but because someone in a Spider-Man costume having an emotional moment with a human disco ball is exactly the kind of content CAMICon thrives on. I don't care. Let them watch.
"I'm sorry," Arthur says quietly, his hand coming up to cup my face. "For everything I said. For letting you walk away."
"I'm sorry too," I reply. "For not keeping Henry safe. For leaving."
"I see you have security now. Henry is still safe. And you protected him when he ran away." He swallows. "You also had every right to leave with how I treated and limited you."
I shake my head. "I still shouldn't have."
Henry tugs at my sequined sleeve. "So you're coming home, right?"
Home. The word fills my chest with something warm and steady. Not the apartment I left behind. Not the house I was trying to fit into. Just wherever these two are.
"Yes," I tell him. "I'm coming home."
The moment breaks when someone bumps into Arthur, sending him stumbling into me with a grunt. The spell of reunion isn't shattered—just shifted. Returned to the reality of where we are: a convention center packed with fans, cosplayers, and the steady thrum of excitement.
"Maybe we should get out of here," I suggest.
Arthur nods, looking relieved. "Please."
We're walking out together when Henry slows. Jenny is standing near the exit, holding a poster tube, looking just as awkward as he does. Introductions happen badly. Polite nods. Too much eye contact. Not enough words. Jenny looks at Arthur, then at me, then back at Henry.
