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Together, their shapes form a perfect heart.

The sight destroys my composure—and my resistance. Suddenly, I can’t stand. I fall to my knees and stare at the couple.

That could be us—Evan and me—for the rest of our lives.

All I have to do is tell him I want, trust, and love him.

My tomorrows, if I choose a life without him, loom before me. I could go to Georgia, get a new job, start over, hope I meet someone who will be half the man Evan is, and probably be miserable for all my days. Or…

Pressing my hand to my shaking chest, I swallow down a sob, collect all the papers he gave me, and lurch for my door. I don’t care that my feet are bare, that I’m wearing pajamas, that any one of my neighbors could see me make a fool of myself.

The only thing that matters is reaching Evan.

My body trembles, heart thundering as I run down the walkway and stare up the street. In the distance, I see his familiar form, broad shoulders slumped as he slowly walks away. He reaches his car and hits the fob. With a listless tug, he opens the door, then pauses, bracing his arm against the doorframe. He lays his forehead on it and hesitates, as if he can’t bring himself to get in the car and drive away.

My heart leaps.

“Evan!” I run after him, screaming with every ounce of my energy, praying to God I’m not too late. “Evan!”

He jerks, head snapping up before he zips his stare in my direction. Cautiously, he takes a half dozen steps around the car, climbs onto the sidewalk, then starts an uncertain jog in my direction. “Nia?”

The closer I get the more my lungs burn, my eyes sting, and my heart feels as if it will explode. But I refuse to give up. I’ll never give up on this man.

“Evan…” My voice catches, wails.

He must hear my pleading, because suddenly, he runs toward me. “Nia!”

The closer we get the harder my tears fall. I can’t reach him fast enough. I can’t live without him another moment. I can’t be whole if he’s not my friend, my partner, and my husband.

Finally, we’re almost within touching distance. I launch straight at him. He opens his arms. We crash together. He lifts me, and I wrap myself around him. Our mouths meet for a long, wet, tear-filled kiss.

Instead of tearing me down, as the last eleven days apart have done, this embrace puts me back together, healing the pain, washing away the anger, blame, and despair. Now there’s just Evan. And I never want to let go.

When he eases his mouth free, he searches my face under the halo of the nearby streetlight. “Honey?”

I wriggle out of his arms and stand, swallowing down my nerves as I flip through all the documents I’m still clutching. I come across the agreement giving me ownership of Stratus. And I rip it in two. Then in two again. I repeat the process until I throw the confetti in his face.

“What was that?”

“You’re not giving your company to me. I don’t want Stratus. I certainly don’t want to sell it out from under you. And you’re not selling it to Douglas Lund. You are Stratus. The company has no heart without you. It belongs to you.”

Evan shakes his head. “You’ve been its heart for a long time. I’ve just been its brain.”

Weeping, I shake my head. “Don’t be an idiot. You’ve made it everything it is today. It will never function right without you. Neither will I.” With that, I take the envelope of divorce papers, holding one end in each hand, and give them it a mighty tug until I hear the most satisfying rip. “So you’re not divorcing me, either. Ever.”

He freezes. “You still want me?”

“I’ve always wanted you. I can’t not want you. I wanted you when I shouldn’t have. I loved you when it was impossible. I can’t unlove you. I’m not going to try again.”

His hand shakes as he raises it to my cheek. “I love you so much, Nia Cook.”

I manage a lopsided smile as I press the plane ticket to my chest. “I’m keeping the plane ticket to Maui.”

A wry grin spreads across his face. “Good. I have the seat next to you. I figured if you got on that plane, there was at least a shred of hope and I could spend the next six hours convincing you to take me back.”

I have to laugh at his crazy, sneaky, kinda brilliant ploy. “You don’t have to convince me of anything. I want to be with you, always.”

He swallows nervously. “You forgive me?”