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He was gently gripping my top now, holding me closer by two loose handfuls of cotton. I could feel all his energy as he stared into my eyes. All his passion and need, and it made my voice come out choked as I asked, “How do you know for sure?”
“Because even the first time I left you was hard,” he answered fast. “You wouldn’t know that, and I wouldn’t tell anyone, because I was never supposed to care that much. But I did, because you’ve always been different for me, Holland. You’ve always been the person who brought out the best in me. The human side of me. That first night I saw you again… I knew from the first second I laid eyes on you that I was fucked, and it had nothing to do with the fact that you’d grown up. And it had nothing to do with how good you looked. That was what made my night a living hell, but what fucked me completely was the fact that you were here again, right in front of me me, because I’ve always been wired to care about you. You were always mine to protect. And the only thing that helped me ignore you after I left was the fact that I’d convinced himself I would hurt you too. But I know now I’ll never do anything to hurt you. Ever. And I’m never going to become that Iain again, because I dug it all up already. I unearthed everything I had buried. I’m a stronger man now because of you, and even if I lose the agency, the job, I won’t care. Because it’s not what I need most in my life.”
“What do you need then?” I asked, making him flash that sexy smirk.
“You know the answer to that.”
My lips turned up with his. “So what are you asking me, Iain?”
“To come home,” he said straightaway, pulling at more heartstrings than I knew I had. “New York is where you belong, Holland. Where you’re supposed to be.”
“No.” I shook my head, taking a moment to gaze up at that beautiful frown of his. “You’re where I’m supposed to be,” I said. “You’ve always been. When I was younger, my house was only a home when you were there. New York was only what it was because of you. And now that you’re in Milan I could live here forever if you said you wanted to,” I laughed. “You’re my favorite place, Iain. Of anywhere in the world. You’ve always been.”
I was breathless all over again when Iain’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. He had his arm circled around my waist now, his free hand pushing my hair back so he could gaze all the way into me.
“Does that mean you’ll come?” he asked. “For the record, that means New York. For now.”
“You know the answer to that.”
“Say it out loud,” he said.
So I obliged.
“I’ll go anywhere with you.”
42
HOLLAND
Eighteen Months Later
As I zipped my coat at my desk, I looked out the window at the flurry of snow falling over Fifth Avenue.
Perfect conditions for what we had coming up.
Of course, I had several orders of business before I could think about any of that.
Pop into happy hour. Drop off gift. Pick up dinner. Go home. Pack.
So wrapping my scarf around my face, I grabbed my things and rushed out to the sidewalks dusted in snow and patterned with footprints of all the last-minute activity before the holidays.
It was pretty damned cold, but thankfully, I only had to walk around the block to get to my team’s favorite happy hour.
“Hey! There she is!”
Several of my coworkers said it in unison as I swung open the front door of the spot we’d begun frequenting about six months ago. The place was a cozy sports bar with forty beers on tap, the best wings in Flatiron, and most importantly, my favorite bartender in the world.
“You bitch! We said no gifts!” Mia gasped when I skipped up to the bar with not only a big grin but a big, gift-wrapped box in my hands.
My team and I laughed at her reaction as she saw the Minx logo on the ribbon, and I said hello to everyone really quickly before returning my attention to a very indignant but excited Mia.
“Judging from the weight of this box, you’ve given me a lifetime supply of lingerie,” she said, still trying to sound angry with me despite the fact that we both knew she was psyched. I shrugged and smiled.
“Just a thank you for all the times you’ve dolled me up,” I said, beaming till she relented and hugged me.
“Ugh, roomie memories,” she pouted, kissing my cheek and squeezin
g me tight before she suddenly gasped. “Oh! Speaking of dolling up—let me see your nails,” she said excitedly, giving a long “yasss” of approval as I flashed her the manicure she’d insisted I get during my me time yesterday. “I mean isn’t that color just life-changing?” she asked, referring to a shade of pale pink nail polish that she had bought on a whim at Sephora or something, that she was apparently so obsessed with that she insisted I try it before leaving for my trip.
