I’d decided to walk down Fifth to The Met, giving myself time with nothing to do but breathe the fresh air, feel the sun on my face, and think about exactly how I could convince my father to reinstate Rin while also explaining the many ways he could fuck himself.
Because what I’d decided on that summer day with my past at my back and my future stretched out before me was that the only thing left that I truly wanted was to reinstate her future. And if not through her job at The Met, then I’d find another way to give her everything she desired. I’d call in every favor I had in the vault to ensure her place.
I would willingly give her all the things others had tried to take simply because I loved her. And I wasn’t afraid.
I was ready.
When I stepped into his office, I found him seated behind his magnificent desk, his eyes narrow and face hard. And I saw myself in him, the last man I wanted to be and the one I’d become without knowing. For the first time in memory, I was in his presence without feeling a surge of anger, the sting of betrayal, the wound caused by my loss. No, I stood before him, calm and cool, his power over me gone. And I’d been a fool for granting him that power in the first place.
“You got my message,” he said.
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
He paused, assessing me. “What’s this?” He held up my resignation letter.
“It’s exactly what it says it is. Did you ask me here just so you could pose questions you already had the answers to?”
His jaw clenched.
“I told you I was quitting if she left. And she’s gone.”
“I heard you when you said it.”
“But you didn’t believe me,” I added.
“I have to commend you for following through, but don’t be obtuse, son. You’re not actually going to risk your career for an intern, are you? She doesn’t want you any more than Lydia did.”
The blow hit its mark, triggering a succession of painful, thudding heartbeats. “I hope you’re wrong. I asked her to marry me.”
Shock shot his face open. “You didn’t.”
“I did. And she accepted.”
“You’re serious,” he said half to himself.
“Hopefully she doesn’t come to her senses and leave me. God knows I don’t deserve her. It’s my fault—all of this—and if I had left her alone like I knew I should, she’d have her job and her credits for her doctorate. She’s earned that. She deserves it. She deserves everything, and I’ll do whatever I can to give it to her. Even if it means coming here to beg you to let her come back.”
He puzzled over me like a calculus equation.
“I’ll stay away, if that’s what you want—there are other jobs, other museums. And whether you like it or not, I’m giving her my name—your name. Give her the job. Let her get the credit. Everyone has a price. What’s yours?”
The muscles at the edges of his jaw bounced with his grinding teeth. “My price is simple. Come back to the museum. I’ll give the intern her job but only if you’re in your office. What I want is your success. For the legacy to continue. But I’m an asshole, same as you. For men who work with priceless art, we aren’t very careful, are we?”
I watched him suspiciously. “If I come back, you’ll let her back in?”
“If that’s how I get you back in the museum, then yes.”
The victory of fixing my mistake rang in my ears, in my mind, in my heart. The plan had worked.
Everybody wins.
“Fine. We’ll be in on Monday.”
He raised a dark brow at me.
“We have plans,” was the only explanation I offered before turning for the door.
“For the record—” he started.
I paused, turning to face him.
“I hope she’s different.”
“I don’t need hope. I know.” I gave him my back and walked out of the building, a slow smile climbing into a beaming grin with every step that brought me closer to her.
Rin
The second I floated through the door, I was accosted by my roommates.
They seemed to fly in from separate directions, all three of them asking questions at once.
“What the hell happened?” Val asked.
“Can I see it?” Amelia reached for my hand.
“Did he grovel? Tell me he groveled,” Katherine said with her arms folded.
I laughed, my hand no longer my own as they hushed, bending over it with eyes as big and round and glazed as donuts.
“God, it’s gorgeous,” Amelia breathed.
“I can’t believe he’d been carrying this around,” Val sighed.
“He’s crazy,” Katherine said in awe. “He’s actually crazy. And it works for him.”
Val looked up to meet my eyes. “I want to know why you’re here and not over there, riding his face like a hobby horse.”
That earned a full-blown cackle, and we all ended up laughing.
“He’s coming by later…after he talks to his dad.”
They paled in unison.
“Ew, why did he go back there?” Amelia asked.
“Because it’s the right thing to do. Court needs to get it all out of his system or he might implode.”
Val clutched my hand, still resting in hers, and dragged me into the kitchen. “Come. Now. Spill everything.”
So we sat in the kitchen, my best friends and me, for a solid hour, drinking coffee and talking and recounting everything that had happened and what I thought might happen next. And all the while, the reality of it sank in, warmed me up, filled my heart. Because they didn’t say we were crazy—at least not after they learned we’d be engaged forever—in fact, they were nothing but blissfully happy, tearfully accepting, and absolutely supportive.
Val’s face was propped in her hand, her cheeks rosy and eyes dreamy. “I can’t believe you’re engaged.”
“It was because of the lipstick,” Katherine said matter-of-factly.
We all frowned at her.
She rolled her eyes. “Not like that. But because you jumped. You took a leap of faith. You did the scariest thing you’ve ever done, and look at how it paid off—you have everything you dreamed of simply because you took a risk.”
“That’s it,” Val said, whirling around. “We’re making a pact. For real.”
She disappeared up the stairs, rummaged around noisily in the bathroom, and reappeared with three black-and-white-striped bags and my tube of Boss Bitch, which she plopped on the island in front of us. From each bag, she retrieved a tube of lipstick, setting them on their ends in front of herself and me, then Amelia, and Katherine, who wore matching looks of skepticism.
Val held up her tube like a champagne flute. “I hereby call the first meeting of the Red Lipstick Coalition to order. We do so solemnly swear to use this shiny little tube of power to inspire braveness, boldness, and courage. We promise to jump when it’s scary, to stand tall when we want to hide, to scream our truth instead of whisper our fears. May we be mistresses of our destinies, and to hell with anyone who tries to tell us otherwise.”
We lifted our lipstick tubes, and we all laughed, chanting, Hear, hear!
The doorbell rang, and I hopped off my stool, hurrying to the door with anticipation and worry over what kind of state Court would be in after a confrontation with his father.
But I opened the door to a brilliant smile, my tall, dark, and handsome filling up the doorframe with his long body, clad in jeans, a T-shirt, and that leather jacket that smelled like heaven. With donuts.
Before I could speak, he tossed the box onto the table next to the door and scooped me into his arms in a single motion. And then he kissed me deep, our bodies twisting together as he dipped me.
“Ow-ow!” Val howled, and all three of them laughed as Court pulled away, smiling too.
“What happened?” I asked, running my hand along the scruff of his jaw.
“Well, if you want it, I got your job back.”
I gaped, blinking up at him. “But ho
w?”
One shoulder rolled in a shrug, his smile tilting. “I told him I loved you and that we were engaged.”
A single shocked laugh burst out of me. “So your plan was sound after all.”
“I know my father.”
I frowned. “I…I don’t want to go back there. Not without you.”
He tightened his arms, that one side of his lips climbing. “Well, I got my job back, too.”
I shook my head at him in wonder. “I cannot believe you did it. Do you want to go back?”
His smile softened. “That museum is my home, that art my dream. But all I want is you.”
It only took me a breath to decide. “Let’s go back.”
“Really?” The hope in that single word solidified my answer.
“Absolutely.”
And then he kissed me. He kissed me with elation and relief and a promise of our future. And when he broke away, he was still smirking, that bastard.
“We start again on Monday.”
“Next week?” I frowned.
“Go pack a bag. And make sure you only pack dresses.”
Hope sprang. “Florence?”
He nodded, his teeth flashing in a brilliant smile. “Florence.”
“Want to follow my legs around?”
Court pulled me close, his lips nearly against mine when he said, “I’ll follow you anywhere, Rin.”
And he was a man of his word.
Epilogue
Court
“We are gathered here this evening to celebrate a momentous occasion, a dream a lifetime in the making and fulfilled tonight.” I met Rin’s eyes, sharing a smile that spoke a thousand promises. And then I shifted to look up and behind me. “David.”
A rising affirmation rose from the crowd around me, champagne glasses in hand.
“There are too many people to thank, too many minds that contributed to this exhibition that was too ambitious, too big for its own good.”
A laugh through the crowd, and this time, my father and I connected eyes.
He offered a nod of approval as I continued, “But I have a few people who, without their daily effort, without their full devotion and dedication, we would never have succeeded. First, to my father, whose allowance of my mania cleared a path for the exhibition’s achievement. And to the Accademia, for so generously agreeing to loan us one of the greatest masterpieces to ever exist. To Stephen Aston, my assistant curator, for stepping in at the eleventh hour and picking up the project in its wildest and most disheveled state. You, sir, have done your job better than I could have hoped and with a positive attitude I could never hope to achieve.”
Another chuckle, and Stephen, who stood with Rin and her friends, raised his glass with a nod and a smile.
“And last but certainly not least, I have to thank my fiancée.”
Rin flushed, her face soft and so lovely.
“Without you, we wouldn’t have ever obtained this statue, this dream of mine. Without your unwavering support, the tireless hours of research and writing, the surrender of your time and energy and of me, achieving this exhibition would have been impossible. And without you, this would mean so much less than it does. Thank you for everything, especially for loving an obsessive workaholic who won’t take no for an answer.”
She raised her glass, her ring twinkling and her eyes shining as the room hummed once more with laughter.
“And to you, patrons, donors, friends of the museum, this dream of mine is now yours, an exhibition to feed the minds of millions of visitors, to bring art that has shaped our world into the lives of so many. Cheers to each of you.” I raised my glass, commanding all of them to do the same.
And with a rolling round of Salud and Hear, hear, we drank.
The crowd began to disperse, and I wound my way through the crowd to her. Always back to her.
I didn’t acknowledge anyone until I pressed a swift kiss to her lips, reveled in her smile, lost myself in her eyes just for a moment.
“Ugh, get a room,” Val said with a laugh.
I pulled Rin into my side and smirked at Val. “Thanks for coming tonight.”
“We wouldn’t have missed it,” Katherine said. “That statue was the catalyst for a mess. We had to see what the fuss was about.”
“And what’s your take? Was it worth the trouble?”
Her face softened with reverence. “Absolutely.”
Amelia nodded and took a sip of her drink.
Val hooked her arm in Rin’s. “So, do we get our roommate back now that the exhibition is open?”
“Mmm. Maybe,” I joked, not really joking.
Val pouted. “Learn to share, Courtney!”
That one set my lips flat. “Dammit, Valentina, I swear to God—”
“Courtney William Lyons, the third—do not take that tone with me. It’s not my fault you get chatty when you drink tequila.”
“Well, it’s not my fault you make margaritas that could burn a hole through solid steel.”
She laughed. “You get her forever. Just loan her to us a couple of times a week until then.”
I sighed. “Fine. Live it up while you can.”
Rin chuckled, leaning into me, and my arm around her tightened.
“I’m stealing her,” I announced. “I’ll bring her right back, I promise.”
“You’d better,” Katherine said, but she was smiling—honest to God smiling at us. In fact, all three of them were, their faces happy and approving and wistful.
I took her hand and towed her through the crowd, setting my champagne on an empty table, and she did the same. She let me lead her, as she so often did, letting me forge my way, giving me the room and permission to grow and be and do without obstruction, only encouragement.
The last few months had been, without question, the happiest of my life.
It was true, what I’d said—we’d worked nonstop on the exhibition, hobbled for a few weeks until we hired Stephen to pick up where Bianca had left off. He was a fantastic assistant, and the best part—he was straight as an arrow. Not that I was worried about my self-control, but never would I give Rin even a cursory reason to wonder or worry where my loyalties lay. They were with her. Always. Forever.
Her internship had ended, her proposal had been accepted by her adviser, and her dissertation was in progress. Somehow, she’d found time to not only invest an ungodly amount of hours in the exhibit, but she’d also helped Stephen get acclimated, worked on her PhD, and still found spare energy to support me, to lend an ear, a mind to commune with, arms to hold me, and a heart to share.
I’d once thought giving my heart away would leave me empty. But it hadn’t—now I had more love than I knew what to do with. More love than I deserved. But God, if I wouldn’t spend every day honoring her love with my own.
I pulled her into a quiet part of the museum, at the edge of the exhibition. And I brought her to a stop in front of Carracci’s The Lamentation. The painting I’d first kissed her in front of.
She smiled up at me. I smiled down at her.
“You did it,” she said.
I pulled her into me. “We did it. I meant what I said, Rin. I couldn’t have done this without you, and I wouldn’t have wanted to try. Sharing this with you has made it all that much sweeter.”
A sigh, such a blessed sound. “I love you.”
“I love you, too. The sinner and the saint. Me and you. You’re a saint, Rin, and it’s only by your grace that I’m the man I’ve become, the man I want to be. How can I repay you? How will I ever return what you’ve given to me?”
She reached for my face, met my eyes, so steady and sure. “You’ve made me who I am, too. As far as I’m concerned, we’re even. Tell me you love me.”
My heart ached, brimming with adoration and devotion. “I’ll love you forever, Rin. I love you with all of me. I’m yours.”
“And I’m yours,” she said, her red lips smiling. “Now kiss me in front of Jesus, Dr. Lyons, before I die.”
And with a
smile of my own, I did just that.
Acknowledgments
This one was a doozy, guys. And the list of thanks is long.
The first person I always thank is my husband, Jeff, and with good reason—I could not write these books without him. I would not know love if it wasn’t for him. You’re the reason for all of this, Jeff, and I cherish you. Thank you for every day, every moment, every little thing you do.
The second person I always thank is Kandi Steiner because she is truly my soul sister. Every day, you cheer me on. Every day, you save me. Every day, you are the warm sunshine on my face. And sharing this crazy career, the highs and lows of this job we love so much, makes everything sweeter. I love you more than tacos.
This book would not have been possible without the constant attention of Kerrigan Byrne, who is not only one of my most favorite writers, but has become one of my closest friends. Working on this book with you has been more fun than it should have been, and somehow, you manage to commiserate, calm, and inspire me daily. Bless you for putting up with my incessant badgering and for sharing your brilliant mind with me.
There are several writers who are daily sources of motivation, laughter, and inspiration. We freak out together, obsess together, and dry each other’s tears. But mostly, we just goof off when we should be working. Karla Sorensen, thank you for the cheering, the whipping, and the pragmatic shoulder. Thank you for the list of tall girl gripes, and thank you for always listening to my five-minute-long voice messages about whatever Court-related meltdown I was having. Kyla Linde, thank you for every talk-down, every laugh, and every late night keep going. Jana Aston, I have loved every never-ending minute of writing our books together. Hopefully everyone loves our asshole heroes. I’m sorry I couldn’t figure out how to get Court in elbow patches. I really did try.
Everyone needs a right-hand woman, and mine is Tina Lynne. How many ways and how many days have you saved me? We’re somewhere in the eight hundred thousands, but I think my ticker broke. I can’t imagine doing this job without your steady hand and organization. You make my scary, messy, mad scientist brain a better place, and you turn my gibberish into actionable plans. You, my friend, are a rock star.