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“And the other part?”
“I wanted you.” I chew my bottom lip. “I wanted you,” I repeat.
The aftermath of that confession leaves me embarrassed.
“Come on.” I try to tug Crew toward the table. “We should look at the menu.”
He doesn’t budge. “Not yet. Wait.”
I look around the rooftop. “Wait for wha—”
Loud flashes of color light up the sky, cutting me off. I stare at the spectacular sight.
“We’re celebrating,” Crew tells me.
I realize, if anything, I wasundersellinghis soft side earlier.
Money can buy a lot. Importance. Accolades. Relevance. Lavish vacations and expensive dinners and a dazzling display meant for two people in a city of millions.
Love is immune to currency. Money isn’t why there’s a soft half-smile on Crew’s face. Why there are butterflies in my stomach and a total certainty in my head that we’ll last.
Side by side, we watch fireworks explode over the Manhattan skyline, illuminating the city we call home. And there’s nothing fake about any of it.
THE END
