Page 139 of On The Edge

“You’re on my shit list, Navarro,” I say and sigh and then smile, staring wide-eyed again at the email stating my student loans have now been paid in full.

This is not what I wanted. Him helping me out. Him taking care of things. I just want him and my patience is beginning to wear thin.

I pick up my phone to text him.

Me: I guess I’m now making my student loan payments to you. Thank you, but I can’t accept this generosity.

Cruz: It was either that or buy you a penthouse in New York. I figured you could stomach the student loans more.

Me: Cruz.

Cruz: I love when you sigh out my name like that. Don’t look now. Knock. Knock.

What in the—

“Delivery for you, Maddix,” one of our interns says as she walks into my office and places a folder on my desk.

“Thanks.”

“The courier said it was urgent.”

“I—oh—okay,” I say, so distracted by Cruz’s text that it takes me a second to realize that the folder might be the knock, knock.

And then once it registers, I scramble to tear it open as fast as I can. Inside is a plane ticket. It’s not one like I’ve ever seen before so I stare at it for a few seconds before turning it over.

Your boss has approved some much-needed downtime. Take this ticket to the car waiting out front. I’m about to earn that E.

—Cross

I stand up. I sit down. I grab my purse and anything I think I need as my hands start to shake and heart begins to race. Then I run out of my office without the ticket so I have to go back in and grab it.

My co-workers give me knowing glances and cryptic smiles as I say goodbye.

The elevator takes forever to reach my floor and then descend.

The town car, with its blacked-out rear windows, waits patiently for me at the curb.

We are driving within seconds. Sure I’ve been living here, but I feel more alive than I’ve felt during the entire time. Right now I feel hopeful, excited, and ready for whatever comes next.

So long as whatever it is includes Cruz.

I don’t recognize the airport as we drive into its grounds as it’s definitely not JFK or La Guardia. But within seconds, we pull off to what I now know to be Cruz’s jet.

“Here we are, Miss Hart. Feel free to head up and inside.”

The first thing I notice is the rug beneath the portable stairway onto the jet is covered with the letter E in all different sizes. The stairwell steps are covered with large E stickers in various colors.

I take each step with my heart in my throat and a pocketful of hope.

When I step inside the jet, Cruz is standing there, holding a cardboard E.

I don’t think I have ever felt so much love and relief flood through my body as I do in this moment.

It’s him.

It’s really him.

I think I gasp. I know I say his name as I take in everything around him. The dahlias lining the cabin. The champagne. The balloons. Cruz standing there with undeniable love in his eyes.