Will I see her here? There’s a good chance. Shit. If I upset her, I don’t know what I’ll do. But I promised Sienna I’d do this photo shoot, and I don’t go back on my promises.

  The receptionist leads me toward the studio, and as we step inside, she asks if I’d like a water. I shake my head, ready to reject the offer, but when I get a look at the one person already in the room, every thought leaves my brain.

  Savannah.

  The room is set up for the photo shoot, the camera, a black back drop, and lots of lights pointing in one direction.

  And Savannah is standing in the middle of the open space, her wavy red hair flowing over her shoulders, a tight black cotton dress hugging her gorgeous curves, and the most beautiful smile on her glossy lips.

  She’s not sad like she was at the arena the other day. No, she’s radiant.

  “Let me know when you want the photographer,” the woman beside me says.

  Savannah nods and then turns her full attention to me. “You can come in, you know. I promise I won’t bite.” Her lips curl up just a little, a hint of tease in her tone.

  All I can do is blink. What the hell is happening? I’m too stunned to come up with a quip in response.

  But my body knows where I belong, so my feet take over, moving me toward her quickly.

  “Thanks for coming,” she says when I stop in front of her.

  My hands itch to reach for her, to pull her against my chest. My arms ache to hold her, but if I do, I don’t know that I can let her go again, so I settle my hands in my pockets and nod. “The photo shoot is for you?”

  She glances back at the setup, nodding. “Yeah. It’s for my new job.”

  I frown. “New job?”

  “I’ve been promoted. And given my own column. With my name on the byline, not Calliope’s. I’m calling it The New Romantics.” She worries at her lip, but that smile remains. “Turns out readers like my voice and my honesty when it comes to talking about falling in love.”

  “Savannah,” I breathe, my chest expanding, “that’s incredible.”

  She ducks, eyeing me from beneath her lashes. “I thought maybe I could write about our love story in my first article.”

  I stumble back a step, the air suddenly sucked out of my lungs. “Huh?”

  “You know.” Her lips twitch. “The story of how the Ms. It’s Not Him, It’s You finally got her happy ending with the Mr. It Was Definitely Me.”

  “Baby girl,” I whisper, my heart racing, my knees wobbling so violently I worry I’ll lose my footing.

  “It’s the story of us,” she murmurs. “You and me. Always.”

  “I’m trying not to get my hopes up here. So”—I blow out a breath and rough a hand through my hair—“so I’m going to ask you a question, and I need you to be really clear when you answer.” I lick my lips, swallow past the lump in my throat. “Is this for the article, for some PR thing, or⁠—”

  “Or,” she practically shouts. Inhaling deeply, she takes my hand and squeezes. “It’s the Or.”

  And then she does the most obscene thing. Makes the most ridiculously perfect gesture. She drops to her knees, head tipped back, eyes locked on mine. “Marry me, Camden Snow.” Her voice wobbles as she squeezes my hand again. “Marry me and make me whole. Not because I can’t be whole on my own. Because I can. I did the work. I saw a therapist, and I know my worth. I know I’m worthy of love. I know now that not everyone will disappoint me. Some will”—a lift of one shoulder, a rueful smile—“and that’s okay. Marry me because I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Because I choose you. Marry me because you love me,” she says, her eyes filling with tears. “Marry me because you and I share the kind of epic love that everyone roots for. Our story is written in the stars and fought for on the pages. I promise I’ll fight for you every day. I’ll fight for us.”

  I drop her hand, and as her hopeful smile turns to confusion, I shove my hand into my pocket and pull out the ring I’ve been carrying around for the last six months. Then I drop to my knees in front of her and cup her face. “Marry me, baby girl. Be my wife. Be my family.”

  She sobs, the tears falling now, and with a whispered yes, she presses her mouth to mine. “Yes, yes, yes.” She says it over and over until I sweep my tongue into her mouth, silencing her.

  Then, with shaky hands, I slide the diamond ring onto her finger.

  Sniffling, she peers down at it. “Where did you get this?”

  I grasp her jaw and pull her in, taking her mouth with mine. “Had it made a few months ago,” I murmur. I truly never thought I’d get to give her the ring, yet I couldn’t bear the idea of taking it out of my wallet.

  She gasps against my mouth. “Really?”

  “Yes. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about our life. About what it could look like.”

  “And how do you think it will look?” she asks through yet another wave of tears.

  Collapsing to the floor completely, I pull her onto my lap. Finally, when she’s cradled against me, her heart beating against mine, I feel whole again.

  When she blinks up at me through wet lashes, I know that this is exactly where I was always meant to be. Loving this woman.

  “There will be lots of kissing,” I say.

  Smiling, she pecks my lips once, then again.

  I stroke her cheek. “And lots of laughter.”

  “And sex,” she teases.

  A chuckle works its way out of me. “Yeah, baby girl. I’ve got months to make up for when it comes to that.”

  Her lips tremble, but they’re tipped up in a smile. “What else?”

  “I was thinking maybe we could find a house. A home we can make ours.”

  Green eyes shining, she perks up. “Really?”

  “Yeah. Maybe look out in the ’burbs. Near War. Schools are supposed to be good out that way.”

  “Schools?”

  “Yeah, for all the kids the two of us are going to have.”

  “You want to have babies with me?” she says, voice choked.

  “You know I do. So badly that I’m tempted to flip you over and fill you right now.”

  She bites her lip, her cheeks flushing. “I want that too.”

  “And maybe we’ll host a holiday. Your pick. We’ll have friends over for game nights.”

  “Sounds perfect,” she whispers, wonder bleeding from every word.

  I nod. “It’ll be perfect because we have each other. No matter what.”

  “I really like the story you’re weaving.” She snuggles against my chest, her head tucked beneath my chin, her body relaxing.

  I press a kiss to her forehead. “It’s our story, baby girl, so we’ll write it together.”

  EPILOGUE

  Savannah

  “What are you doing?” I squeal as Camden yanks me out of the car and cradles me to his chest.

  We finished our photoshoot with a bottle of champagne, compliments of Sienna and Jolie. Then Josie and our entire department swooned over my ring and the surprise engagement.

  I can’t stop looking at it. I can’t believe he’s had it for all these months.

  “Carrying you over the threshold, baby girl,” he says, his face lit up in a huge smile.

  He’s been grinning since I said yes. Despite the many good memories we share, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so happy.

  “You’re not supposed to do that until after the wedding,” I tease him. Though I love the gesture. I love him. So damn much.

  And I’m so glad I got out of my own damn way and went for it. We have a complicated history, and we both have complicated pasts, but the love I have for this man comes easy. It’s as natural as breathing. I love him and he loves me and we’ll make it work. It’ll take a lot of communicating and maybe some uncomfortable conversations, but it will be worth it.

  Camden takes the steps easily, but he stops before opening the door and smirks down at me. “I don’t know what other people do when they get married, and I don’t care. I’m carrying you into our home because you deserve it. I know you’ve never had a place that really felt like home. And it kills me that when I asked you to leave, I destroyed the semblance of peace you found here. I need to make it right. So baby girl, I’m promising you that from here on out, you will always have a home because you will always have me.”

  I place my hand on his cheek, so filled with love I feel like I could float away. Luckily I won’t, because this man grounds me.

  “You are my home, Camden. I love you. Now carry me into our home. No more worrying about the past. We are all that matters from here on out.”

  With a relieved sigh, he presses his lips to mine. It’s a quick kiss. Not nearly enough for either of us.

  “I love you.” He punches in the code, and I turn the knob. Once it unlatches, he kicks it wide open. “Welcome home, baby girl.”

  Breathing in, I settle my head against his chest, memorizing every detail of this moment. The smells, the way his heart pounds, the warmth of him wrapped around me. The peace that rolls through me because, finally, I’m home.

  He carries me straight upstairs, and I don’t have to ask where we’re going. Since the moment we said yes, I think we’ve both been waiting for this. When he tosses me onto his bed, a memory flits through my brain, making me giggle.

  “What?” he asks as he pulls his shirt over his head.

  My laughter falters at the sight of my name inked on his chest. For months, I haven’t allowed myself to think about it, even as I saw his name on my own flesh day in and day out, a cruel reminder of all I’d lost.

  I shake my head. No more sad memories. “Just thinking about the first time you threw me onto this bed.”

  Smirking, he yanks his belt through the loops. When he bends at the waist, dropping his pants, his abs ripple.

  “You’d been a very bad girl that night.”

  Mouth watering, I drink in every inch of him. “You loved it.”

  Clad in nothing but boxers, he crawls onto the bed and prowls toward me.

  With a squeal, I scoot back, falling against the pillows.

  He covers me, his body warm and strong, his hands in my hair, his mouth hovering over mine. “My beautiful girl, I love everything about you. When you’re bad and when you’re good. You’re mine and that’s all that matters.”

  My heart swells, and the tears are back, threatening to flood my eyes. “I really am.”

  He presses a soft kiss to my lips. “Now let me get reacquainted with all my favorite parts of you. I’ve got a lot of apology orgasms to give you.”

  My breath catches. “You going to give me an orgasm for every one I had without you?”

  Expression suddenly sobering, he squeezes his eyes shut. “I don’t think—” He swallows. “I don’t think I can handle hearing about that.”

  I press my hands to his cheeks, my chest pinching with sympathy for him. “Open your eyes, baby.”

  When he does, pain radiates from him.

  “There’s been no one since you, and there will be no one after you. Hear me? I didn’t mean to say it that way. And I don’t expect that it was the same for you, but⁠—”

  “Baby girl, the idea of touching another woman makes me physically ill,” he rasps. “I promise you, the only reason I didn’t come for you was because you deserve better than me. I worried it would be too hard for you to have me in your life.”

  “I stayed away for the same reason.” I let out a sardonic laugh. “We love each other too much, I guess. So much that we got in our own way.”

  “No more.”

  I smile, chest expanding. “Yes, no more.”

  Camden sits back, easing me up and pulling my top over my head. Then he works my pants down my hips while I undo my bra.

  Within seconds, the only thing between us is the thin fabric of our underwear.

  On his knees, he stares down at me like he’s refamiliarizing himself with every inch of my body.

  I’m too focused on him to appreciate the feral look in his eye. The man is so beautiful. So achingly perfect. And so mine.

  “I don’t even know where to start,” he tells me.

  “I do.” Winking, I lean up and tug on his boxers.

  When his hard cock bobs free, a moan slips from my lips.

  Chuckling, he takes himself in his hand and tugs softly. “Missed this, baby girl?”

  “You know I did.” I lick my lips. “Can I suck your cock…Daddy?” I peer up at him, hoping the nickname is still okay.

  When he lets out a feral growl, I relax.

  “Yes, baby girl,” he groans. “Make me feel good.”

  I keep my eyes on him as he guides himself to my lips. Then I press a kiss to the tip. “Like this?”

  “Fuck,” he tips his head back, then tucks his chin, focus pinned on me. “You know I need more than that.”

  I smile. “Maybe like this?” I lick up his shaft, relishing the warmth of him.

  Growling, he clutches my throat, just tight enough to hold me in place.

  “No more games. Open your mouth and let Daddy fuck your throat.”

  Obediently, I relax my jaw and look up at him, silently giving him permission.

  In one rough thrust, he slides between my lips. When his piercing hits the back of my throat, I gag, and he breaks into a wicked grin. “That’s my good girl. You know I love it when you make those sounds.”

  He rolls his hips at a quick pace, and I focus on breathing through my nose, taking as much of him as I can.

  Before long, his grip on my neck loosens and he caresses my jaw. “My beautiful little whore loves this, doesn’t she?”

  I nod, tears dripping down my face and lungs heaving for air.

  I do. I love how we are together. Love being this way with him. Love that nothing could steal this from us. Our pasts don’t matter any longer. Neither do my parents or the bet or Calliope’s Column. Even the interaction at the strip club holds no weight. Nothing we have has been ruined because this is special. We’re special.

  He picks up the pace again, for just a moment, and when I whimper around him, he pulls back.

  “Fuck,” he groans. “You can’t make those sounds.”

  I pant. “Why?”

  “Because you’ll make me come, and I refuse to do that until I’m buried deep inside you.”

  “By all means.” I fall back against the pillows with a grin.

  “Oh no, baby girl,” he chides. “You’re going to sit on my face first.”

  I feign a long sigh. “Ah, what a hardship.”

  Chuckling, he rolls onto his back. Then he helps me out of my panties and guides me to straddle his head.

  The moment I settle against his mouth, he hums, the vibration of the sound ratcheting up my need. “Fuck, baby girl, I missed this.” With that incredible tongue, he tastes me, dips inside me, teases me, winding me higher and higher, all without coming up for air.

  Within minutes, I’m writhing, riding his face, babbling, “Oh my god. Right there. Yes. Fuck.” I grab the headboard and grind against him.

  It only spurs him on further. He wraps his hands around my thighs and pulls me closer, if that’s possible.

  When he does that little twist against my clit, my vision goes spotty and all rational thought flees.

  “That’s it, baby girl,” he growls against me. “Give me what I want.”

  He curls his fingers inside me, and I detonate, cresting a wave I can’t possibly ride.

  I fall forward, hands splayed on the headboard, panting for breath.

  All the while, he continues working me over, his fingers digging into my thighs as he holds me down on top of him, forcing me to enjoy every delicious second of pleasure.

  I’m still panting, my vision still blurry, when he drags me down his body and swipes his tongue into my mouth.

  Tasting myself on his lips is intoxicating. Mind-altering.

  “I love you,” I whisper.

  “I love you so damn much, Savannah. So fucking much. Don’t ever leave me, please.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Desperate for more of him, I sit up, take him in hand, and line him up with my entrance.

  “Wait,” he says into my mouth.

  At the hesitation in his voice, I pull back.

  His eyes bounce back and forth between mine, a crease between his brows. “Are you still on the shot?”

  I shake my head. “I stopped a few months ago. When you wrote the article about going to the doctor.”

  He lunges up and kisses me again. It’s a thank-you. An acknowledgment that all along, we’ve both been working toward the same thing. “I can put a condom on if you want.”

  My heart flutters at his thoughtfulness. “No.”

  “Really?”

  “I mean, I would rather not have a huge belly on our wedding day,” I cringe, though the expression is a teasing one. “But I want a baby with you. So much. And ya know, you’re not getting any younger.”

  He pinches the skin at my hip. “Brat.”

  With a sigh. I bend down and kiss him.

  “We’ll do it this summer,” he says against my mouth.

  I pull back a few inches. “Do what?”

  “Get married. Where do you want to do it?”

  My heart trips over itself as I take in the serious look on his face. “This summer is like two months away.”

  He tips his head back and groans. “Ugh. I don’t think I can wait that long. What about next month?”

  I giggle. “You’re ridiculous.”

  “No, I’m dying to be your husband, baby girl.”

  “Husband,” I whisper. The ache in my chest when I say the word is nothing like the pain that’s plagued me for months. This ache is sweet, addicting. “God, you were barely my boyfriend.”

  He smiles. “So what do you say?”

  “About?”

  He drops his head and sucks a nipple into his mouth.

  “Camden,” I whimper, head tipped back.

  “Shh, I’m busy.” He swirls his tongue and tilts his hips, grinding against my core.

  After the orgasm he’s already given me, my nerve-endings are ready to fire off again, the sensation of his piercings rolling over my sensitive flesh making my eyes roll back.