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Um, what? “Ace?”

His gaze focuses back on mine. “You spent the first half of your childhood taking care of yourself and the second just surviving. You needed control. You needed everything in its place. And you needed protections.”

I rock back on my heels.

Because he’s right.

Of course he’s right.

But…

You don’t have to do that here.

“My hair is down,” I whisper.

“Yeah, baby.” His expression is beyond gentle.

“And I can order DoorDash any night I want.”

His lips twitch. “You sure can.”

“And I can do my facials whenever I want or buy my heels⁠—”

His face does something.

“What?” I ask.

He wipes it away. “It’s not important.”

“Ace,” I say. “You just helped me see that I can be whatever version of Violet I’m feeling at the moment with you at any time—the matchmaker, the control freak, the survivor, the…” I nibble at my lip trying to push through the nerves, knowing that truly allowing this to sink into my skin, that truly being me is going to take some pushing through, some work, some time.

“Don’t you see, baby?” He smooths back my hair, holds my eyes. “The woman I’ve fallen in love with is all of those Violets—and all of the Violets I haven’t learned yet. The woman I love is just…you.”

Because, with Ace, I’ll always just be the woman who loves him…and the woman who he loves back.

“Fuck,” I whisper, “And now I’m going to cry again.”

“Go ahead,” he says. “Because I love that Violet too.”

I scowl at him, take a deep, restoring breath (and dash away a tear or two) as I say, “No, I can’t. Because then I’ll get distracted and forget that your face did a weird thing when I mentioned heels.” I take another breath. “And I need to know what you’re thinking about my heels. Because I’m not sure I can give them up, Ace. I really love my heels.”

He grins and it’s the smile I love.

The one that settles deep.

The one that I hold close and cherish.

Then he gently untangles himself from me, moves over to his suitcase, and unzips it.

When he turns back around, a box in his hands, my body stills.

Because I’ve seen the box before. Ace was holding it back in the hall in his parents’ house.

Right before I gave Steve Ambrose a talking to.

“Come here, princess.”

I don’t hesitate—I don’t need to. I just move to his side.