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I bite down a smile. “Maybe we should name her Lara. Wasn’t she the one who did all the work?”
Theo chuckles, wrapping an arm around my waist, pulling me close. My back is against his chest. He rests his palm lightly on my stomach.
Caleb sighs at the mention of Lara. “And she’s never let me forget it. She told me, and I quote ‘If you ever ruin another Christmas again, I’m using your balls for stuffing.’”
“Now there’s an image I can do without,” Beck murmurs.
“Trust me,” Caleb says dryly, “that’s one of the milder threats she’s made this year. The woman hates the sight of me.” He sighs. “This is what I get for helping love’s young dream.”
Theo squeezes my waist lightly. “And we’re very grateful to you. And Lara.”
Before Caleb can reply, Sam taps his glass with his wedding ring.
“All right,” he calls from across the room. “Before everyone gets too drunk to stand up straight, I’d like to propose a toast. Georgia, get over here. Theo, you, too.”
Theo wrinkles his nose, hating being in the limelight. But he does as he’s told. We walk over as Sam waits for the conversation in the room to die down. Theo slips his hand into mine as we stop beside him.
He’s been a rock these past few months. Quietly guiding me through my article as he prepares for retirement. I owe him so much more than I’ll ever be able to repay.
He’s also kept me up with the gossip. Soon after he fired Sam, Patrick also lost his job. That gave me a grim sense of satisfaction. The last I heard he’s still unemployed and considering moving back to Wisconsin and in with his folks.
The conversation in the room slowly quietens. People turn toward us with glasses raised. Jennifer grins, Derrick winks at me. Even Caleb is quiet.
Sam clears his throat and surveys our guests. “Six months ago this story didn’t exist,” he says. “Now it’s the most talked about piece of journalism in the country.”
A ripple of agreement moves through the room.
“And more importantly,” he adds, glancing between us, “it reminded a lot of people why the truth still matters. Because it does. In a world where we’re inundated with information, the rarest thing is honesty. So I’d like you all to raise your glasses. To Georgia and Theo, for reminding us what the truth looks like.”
Glasses lift around the room. “To Theo and Georgia,” everybody repeats.
Theo squeezes my hand, and I squeeze right back. “Next time,” he murmurs under his breath, “we’re throwing a party for something more intimate.”
I glance up at him. “Like what?”
He smiles slowly. “I’m working on it,” he says, a promise to his voice.
And the look in his eyes makes my stomach flip.
THEO
The expression on Georgia’s face tells me she has absolutely no idea what’s about to happen.
Which is perfect, because I’ve been planning this moment for weeks.
On flights between New York and London – commercial ones much to Caleb’s joy – after late nights or early morning calls when there’s an ocean between us but we’ve never felt closer.
When she came with me to meet my sister and immediately charmed her with her knowledge of BTS songs.
And now that the legal threats hanging over my head are over, with my father’s plea deal keeping him out of prison, and him resigning all claim on company shares, it feels like I can do this without feeling like I’m holding her back.
He’s still Lord Ravensmere. That’s not really something you can resign from, but according to local gossip he’s lying very low right now.
As for my brother, he and Kate split as soon as I found out she was the mole. Like my dad, he’s keeping a low profile, and I’m completely okay with that.
Beck walks over to ask Georgia something about the movie Daisy is watching, and Caleb takes the opportunity to sidle next to me and murmur in my ear.
“Still planning to do it then?” he asks. Because in a moment of beer-driven idiocy, I let my plans slip to him and Beck a few weeks ago.
