Page 177 of The Backup Plan

“Grant referenced my integrity, my professionalism, and my knowledge. He then slid the contract across the table. Probation’s over.”

“You’re officially a Rebel now,” he says, his eyes following my hands as they unzip my slacks. “Knew it.”

“And,” I add, stopping between his knees, “you told them about us.”

“I did.” His tongue licks out to wet his lips. “What did he say about it?”

“That they’re okay with it as long as there’s discretion.”

I shrug out of my blouse as he huffs out a laugh.

“This,” he says, gesturing to his naked body, “is probably not what they meant.”

I smile. “Definitely not glasses and heels on a conference table.”

He reaches for me, pulling me gently closer. “But it’ll do.”

I climb into his lap, laughter dissolving into something warmer. Perfect.

“Congratulations, Doc. I’m proud of you.”

My chest tightens. “I love you,” I murmur against his lips a second before I kiss him.

“I love you too,” he says. “And for the record? I like this ending for us.”

I smile against his mouth.

So do I.

Everything feels completed.

Not because it ended.

But because it finally began.

Emery

Fifteen months later

Our second season ended last night.

Not with fireworks or chaos or the kind of noise that rattles your bones—but with relief. With closure. With the quiet understanding that the grind is over and everyone survived it.

Lucas’s season. My season.

While there’s still work to be done, it’s not the day-in, day-out grind of Monday recovery, prep all week, followed by Sunday game day.

And it means we get to finally do this—stand in the driveway of the house we built together, new keys warm in my palm, and the late afternoon sun dipping low behind us.

“It’s finally ours,” I whisper.

Of course, we’re exhausted. Between the long days at work, the crazy travel schedule, the endless discussions—and a few fights—over what we wanted our dream house to become—we’ve been burning the candle at both ends for longer than is healthy.

But now there’s this. A move-in ready house. A quiet, private yard. The spring and summer to settle in and make it ours. And the peace that comes with all of it.

Lucas exhales beside me, hands on his hips as he looks at the house. Not evaluating or planning, like so much of our time here has been. Just taking it in.

“The timing couldn’t be more perfect,” he says.