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“I’ve just gotten word from the security team. There are journalists out front. Would you like us to take the back exit?”
“I’ll understand if you do,” I whisper, squeezing my man’s arm.
It all feels so natural now. I’m done pinching myself, worrying about how many days it’s been, or the fact it should feel this way or that way, or any of it.
Our whole life is a big, beautiful impossibility, and I’m okay with that.
“No, go the front way,” Luke says, “and drive slowly. I want to talk with them.”
“Sir…”
The partition slides up. Luke looks down at me with that barely contained hunger in his eyes. It’s how he’s looked at me ever since we had sex. It’s like he could leap on me any second and claim me like last night, but I claimed him too. The second time, I asked him if I could go on top. I was nervous, but I did it and rocked with him. I held his hands as we raced toward another shared finish.
I ached with the deepness of the orgasm and intimacy as if it was meant to convince me we would have a baby… soon.
“Are you sure about this?”
“Are you ashamed?” he asks.
“What? No. Never. You’re the only man I’ve ever wanted. The only one I’ve ever thought about. You’re my crush. I’m proud. I want to scream it from the rooftops.”
“I’m proud, too,” he says. “You’re mine, Jane. Any man who finds a woman he loves and feels this certain about is lucky. I want to shout that from the rooftops.”
“Do you think they saw the photo from yesterday?”
“That would be my bet. It’s a big story. The attack, Christopher, you…”
“You normally avoid the press,” I mutter.
“That was before I met you.”
He holds my hand tightly as the driver guides us out of the parking lot. As we drive onto the street, Luke lowers the window. A light morning breeze rushes in with the morning sunlight, and journalists rush the car.
“Mr. Hart… Luke… sir… Any comment on the attack? What’s the status of your employee, Christopher Jenkins? Is that your partner sitting next to you?”
These come from several journalists, some holding cameras, others with notepads and pens, but the voices clash in a jumble, so messy they might as well come from one person.
“I’ve spent my whole life wondering if I’d ever find the woman for me,” Luke says in his commanding voice, the one I know he must use in business meetings. “I never thought I would. I stopped believing in love, but then I saw a beautiful woman sitting in a café window with no idea how special she was—how special she is. Her name’s not-so-plain Jane, and she’s mine, just mine. Forever.”
He wraps his arm around me, turning to face the cameras. I’m smiling but crying, too, more emotion swelling out of me. I swear, I’ve cried more in the past couple of days than in the past couple of years.
“Jane, any comment? Jane?”
“It was love at first sight,” I say.
“And even better.” Luke laughs, kissing the top of my head. “She’s a programmer.”
“I used to think code was simpler than people,” I whisper as we drive away, as the photographers snap pictures of the back of the car, and then the words are just for Luke as I go on. “Now, I know I was wrong. This is simpler, Luke. Us. We’re simpler. The love between us.”
“I know.” He rests his cheek atop my head, relaxing into me. “I just hope this ending can be happy for everybody.”
I swallow, thinking of Christopher, even as my heart whelms and my soul sings.
“I had a dream that you told the world how much you loved me once,” I say after a pause. “I was maybe thirteen, fourteen. Things were crappy at school, worse than usual, but when I closed my eyes and imagined you telling everyone I was yours, all the pain disappeared.”
He caresses my shoulder tenderly. “You don’t have to imagine anymore.”
Lois comes stumbling into the waiting room, her hand on her chest. The worst has happened. Luke takes my hand. He squeezes it with his reassuring touch, and I know he’s silently telling me I never have to feel guilty. This is Axel’s fault and the Russians, not mine, but as I study Lois’ face and posture, I know I’ll never be able to forgive myself. She drops into the chair, gripping the arms and staring for a few long seconds.
“What’s happened?” I ask, panicked.
Time stretches. Just like with me and Luke, the short space of time becomes longer until those seconds might as well be minutes of sitting with her dread, but no, it’s not like with Luke and me. That time-stretching was for good. Days become years of love and bonding. Finally, Lois looks up. She smiles.
