Page 89 of Safe Place

Dinner is intimate. The restaurant glows gold under soft lights, and every table is set perfectly. Sophie orders something she can’t pronounce and laughs when it ends up being her favorite thing on the table. She tries every dessert on the sampler plate and insists on feeding me her favorite bite.

When we walk out into the hotel lobby, she’s smiling in that sleepy, sugar-drunk way she gets when she’s full and happy.

“I’ve never had a meal like that in my life,” she murmurs. “The bread came with its own butter course.”

I chuckle and lead her back to the room.

Once we’re inside the room, I reach into the nightstand drawer and pull out a box wrapped in deep brown paper with no ribbon this time—just clean folds.

“What’s this?” she asks, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Birthday gift. Part two.”

She unwraps it carefully and lifts the lid.

Her eyes go wide.

Inside is a brand new MacBook Pro, a leather notebook with her initials pressed into the bottom corner, and a custom Montblanc fountain pen in glossy black and gold.

For a second, she just stares. Then, “Micah.”

I will never get tired of hearing her say my name.

“Your laptop barely stays on unless it’s plugged in, and I’ve seen you trip over the charging cord,” I say. “And I know you’ve been writing a lot in your notebook between class and work shifts, so I wanted to give you a new one to use when you’re done with it.”

She swallows hard. “This is too much. You can’t—this pen probably costs more than my rent. I can get free ones at the student center. And my computer still works.”

“It’s not about the pen, Soph.” I step closer, gently taking the box from her hands and setting it on the dresser. “It’s not about any of it. I’d get you a hundred of them if you wanted. Just say the word.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but I cut her off, gently.

“You deserve to be spoiled,” I say. “Let me be the one to do it.”

She blinks fast. I know she’s trying to hold back tears.

I reach up, brushing my thumb over her cheek. “And I know you’ve been struggling with your course load lately. I think it’s because—” I hesitate, then go on. “I don’t think law school is what you really want. Do what you want to do. And let me support you.”

She swallows hard. “But what if—” her voice falters, “What if you and I drift apart eventually?”

“We won’t,” I say, without hesitation. It’s not a line—it’s the truth. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

She studies me, her voice barely audible. “How can you be so sure? We’ve only known each other for a semester.”

“Because I know,” I say. “You’re it for me, Soph. You’re the thing I didn’t know I was waiting for.”

She doesn’t respond right away. Her eyes drop to our hands. My thumb is brushing slow circles over the back of hers.

But then, she lifts her gaze. And she nods.

“I’ll think about it,” she says softly. Then she squeezes my hand. “And…thank you. For all of it. You spoil me, Micah Vale.”

I smile, tipping my forehead against hers.

“I’m just getting started.”

TWENTY-FIVE

Fruit doesn’t belong on pizza