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Me: No. You've avoided this. Repeatedly.

Bishop: Maybe I like keeping you guessing.

Me: You know I hate an unresolved mystery.

Bishop: Pretty sure you love them. You read enough books.

I roll my eyes.

Me: Bishop.

Bishop: Soon, Becks. Promise.

I stare at the message.

Soon.

He's been saying that for weeks.

And while I have absolutely no idea why his jersey number is apparently classified information, something tells me there's more to it than a childhood favorite player or a number he happened to get assigned.

Me: Fine. But I'm holding you to that.

Bishop: Wouldn't expect anything less.

I smile.

Then type the one thing I've been thinking all evening.

Me: I can't wait until you're home.

His response comes a few seconds later.

Bishop: Me neither, Becks.

I read it twice before slipping my phone back into my purse.

Across the room, Angela is laughing with Samantha. Beau and Lucy are saying their goodbyes. Avery catches my eye from behind the bar and lifts a questioning eyebrow.

I smile and raise my glass.

For once, I'm not worrying about everything I haven't figured out.

My internship might be ending soon but tonight reminded me that I'm good at what I do. That maybe I have a future in publishing beyond fetching coffee and proofreading someone else's happily ever after.

My manuscript is almost finished. Beau Montgomery actually wants to hear about it.

And somewhere on the road, there's a man who wants to come home to me.

A man who kisses me as he means it, holds me like he doesn't want to let go, and somehow makes me feel like the girl I've always been and the woman I'm becoming are both worth loving.

I take one last sip of Avery's ridiculous cocktail.

Maybe I don't know exactly what comes next.

Maybe my career won't go according to plan. Maybe telling Declan will be a complete disaster. Maybe Bishop and I are heading straight toward the kind of heartbreak I've spent years reading about.

But for once, I'm not afraid to find out.