He was home.

He cradled my face in his hands. “I would have done it for you. Would have given you whatever you wanted no matter what anyone else thought.” “I know,” I whispered. “Because you love me.” “Because I love you, Georgia, and I’m done living without you. Please don’t make me.” I wound my arms around his neck and arched to brush my lips across his. “Colorado or New York?” “Autumn in New York. August and September, at least.” He smiled against my mouth. “Colorado winter, spring, and summer.” “For the leaves?” I guessed, nipping his lower lip gently. “For the Mets.” “Deal.”

“Why did you change the ending of the book?” he asked abruptly. Here we go. “Oh, right. That.” I folded my arms under my breasts, wishing I’d chosen something a little better than jeans and a long-sleeved tee. This conversation called for armor…or lingerie. “Yes. That.” He lifted his brows. “Why did you change it?” “Because I love you!” His eyes flared. “Because I love you,” I repeated, this time managing not to yell. “And you were right about the ending. I was wrong. And I didn’t want to trash your career because I was being bitter and cold and sharp—” He was on me before I finished the sentence, his body pressing mine against the door, his hands in my hair, his mouth kissing me into blissful oblivion. God, I’d missed this—missed him. I kissed him back with everything I had, lacing my arms behind his neck as he picked me up, one hand under each thigh. I locked my ankles at the small of his back. Closer. I needed to be closer.

“Are you going to let me in?” he asked, tucking his thumbs into his pockets. It should have been criminal to look as good as he did. “Are you going to yell at me?” I asked. “Yes.” “Okay, then.” I stepped back as he walked in. I closed the door, then leaned back against it. He pivoted in the entry, leaving only a few steps between us. That distance was too much and not enough all in the same breath. “I thought you were going to call me when you got back,” I started weakly. I’d been prepared for a lot of things today, but seeing him wasn’t one of them, not that I was complaining. He narrowed his eyes, then reached into his back pocket and whipped out his cell, pushing two buttons. My phone rang. “Are you kidding me?” I asked, spotting his name on the screen. He raised his phone to his ear in blatant challenge. I rolled my eyes but answered it. “Hi, Georgia,” he said, his voice dropping low and turning my insides to mush. “I’m back.” “When did that happen?” I asked. My cheeks heated as I realized I was actually talking to him on the phone in the middle of my foyer. He flat-out smirked.

“Scarlett,” Constance sobbed, cradling the back of her sister’s neck as Scarlett’s eyes unfocused. “Jameson,” Scarlett whispered with a faint smile. Then she was gone.

She wasn’t dead; she’d merely been knocked unconscious.

“His eyes flashed to mine, narrowing slightly. There you are. “I was hoping to talk to you about The Things We Leave Unfinished.” “What about it?” “I want to make you an offer, and before you tell me no, hear me out.” He put his hands up, then took an envelope from inside his coat. “For old times’ sake.”

Constance was dead.

“Blue lead, I’m in the clouds.” His stomach bottomed out as his visibility turned to shit. “Going down.” “Jameson!” Howard shouted. Jameson glanced at the blank space where the picture had been. Scarlett. The love of his life. His reason for existence. For Scarlett, he would survive, no matter what lay beneath the clouds. He’d make it through for them—Scarlett and William. He braced. “Howard, tell Scarlett I love her.”

“Some things you have to fight for, Georgia. You can’t just walk away and leave it unfinished when it gets too complicated. If I could fly off and fight the Nazis to win your love, I would. But all I’ve got to battle with are your demons, and they’re kicking my ass. Keep that in mind while you’re reading those endings, the good and the…poignant. The epic, rare love story in this room isn’t Scarlett and Jameson. It’s you and me.” One long, yearning look later, he was gone. I shattered.

I love you, Jameson. Stay safe. Our fates are intertwined, for I cannot exist in a world where you do not.

“Since you’re feeding him, I’m going to go work on feeding you. I love you, Scarlett.” “I love you, too.” He left his wife and son in the nursery and went straight to the kitchen…and threw the rattle in the trash where it belonged. Scarlett and William were Stantons. They were his.

“What was that about?” she asked, brushing my hair out of my eyes. God, I loved this woman.

“Look, Georgia, I’m wild about—” “I think we should just call this what it really is,” she blurted. We spoke at the same time, her words halting mine. “And what is it?” I asked slowly. “A fling.” She nodded. My jaw snapped shut, my teeth clicking with the force. A fling? What the hell? I’d had my share of flings. This was not one of them. “We’re attracted to each other, working in close quarters… It was bound to happen, and don’t get me wrong. I’m glad it did.” She lifted her brows and her cheeks pinkened. “Really, really glad it did.” “Me too…” “Good. I’d hate to feel like this was all one-sided,” she muttered. “Trust me, it’s not.” And if it was, I was the one on the heavily invested side, which was a first. “Okay, then. Let’s keep it simple. I’m not ready for anything big. I can’t just jump from one serious relationship right to the next. That’s not who I want to be.”

“Just so there’s no confusion, here.” His fingers traced the line of my jaw. “I’ve wanted you from the first second I saw you in that bookstore. There’s never been a moment I haven’t wanted you.” If his words hadn’t melted me, the intensity in his eyes would have. “Good.” I grinned and tugged at his shirt again.

His brow knit. “Are you sure? I don’t want to tie you down if you have hot Halloween plans.” “Maybe I like being tied down,” I said as evenly as I could manage. He arched a single brow, and his eyes darkened. “Go take your call.” I stifled a grin. Guess he wasn’t the only audacious flirt around here. “Trouble. Georgia Stanton, you are pure trouble.” He blew out a deep breath, then swiped to answer his call as he walked into Gran’s office, which I really needed to stop thinking of as hers.

“I bought you a present while you were sleeping this morning and arranged to have it delivered. Go on.” He motioned her toward the box. “A present?” She put the bag with the baby clothes on their bed, then looked over her shoulder at him with skepticism. “What are you about?” “Just open it.” He shut the door, then came up beside her, half sitting on the desk to face her. “It’s not my birthday.” She tugged one flap open. “No, but it’s the start of a new era for you.” She opened the next flap, and again, peering down into the wide box as it opened. Then she gasped, her chest constricting at what she found. “Jameson,” she whispered. “Do you like it?” he asked with a grin. She ran her fingers lightly over the cool metal casing. “It’s…” Amazing. Wonderful. Thoughtful. Too much. “I thought maybe you could write down some of those stories you’re always thinking up inside that beautiful brain of yours.” A joyful laugh burst from her throat, and she flung herself into his arms, holding him tight. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” He’d bought her a typewriter.

She cocked a brow. “There you go again, thinking our baby’s a girl. Your son won’t take kindly to that when he’s born.”

“You trust me with your life?” I asked, peering up at him and doing my best not to stare at his long eyelashes or the curve of his lower lip. “I trust you with my career, and that’s pretty much the same thing to me, so yes.” The intensity in his eyes was a clear challenge, and I felt it like a jolting shock to my heart, exceptionally painful yet life-affirming.

I was all smiles when my feet met the earth. “That was amazing!” I threw my arms around Noah, and he held me tight, lifting me right back off my feet. “You were amazing,” he corrected me. He held me so easily, as if I weighed nothing, and smelled so good it was all I could do to not put my nose to his neck and breathe deep. His scent was a unique combination of the sandalwood and cedar of his cologne mixed with soap and a little sweat. He smelled like a man was supposed to, all without faking it. Damian would have paid thousands of dollars to smell like Noah did effortlessly. Stop comparing them. I pulled back slightly, just enough to look in his eyes. “Thank you,” I whispered. His smile was slow and the sexiest I’d ever seen. “What are you thanking me for?” he asked as his gaze darted to my lips and back. “You’re the one who did all the work.” Oh, shit. He really wasn’t an I told you so kind of guy, and that only made me like him more. Made me want him more.