I close the last box and use the tape gun to seal it shut.

“I think that’s the last one.” I wipe my sweaty brow and survey the room, empty now except for a half a dozen brown moving boxes.

Emma sits on my bed, stripped down to the mattress. Her expression is glum.

“I can’t believe it,” she sighs. “It’s the end of an era.”

“I know. How are you going to survive without me?” I shoot her a grin.

“Don’t tease,” she says. “I liked having your company.”

“Me too,” I say honestly. Moving out of the apartment I’ve shared with Emma for the past few years was a surprisingly hard decision. Even though I was beyond excited to be taking the next step with Wes, it’s still sad to leave this life behind. It’s like, as long as I lived with Emma, I still had a piece of my family with me. Now I’m striking out on my own, a real adult woman in a real adult relationship.

Except, I think, moving in with Wes isn’t like leaving my family at all. It’s like finding a new one.

“Anyway, you’re going to have Lucy now. When’s she moving in?”

“Next week.”

“That’ll be fun.”

“Yeah.” Emma doesn’t sound convinced. Lucy is someone Emma had meant at a networking event awhile ago. She’s a blogger, I think, or something like that, and they had bonded over a mutual case of Instagram envy. I haven’t met her, but she sounds like a nice enough girl.

“You’re going to do fine,” I promise her. It feels strange to be the one trying to cheer up Emma. Usually she’s the one that’s Miss Motivational, but her book got rejected again last week and now with me moving out, I think she’s taking it kind of hard.

“Besides,” I assure her. “You’re still going to see me all the time. We’re going to have dinner at least once a week and we can have lunches when you’re downtown and …”

Emma forces a smile. “I know. And you know I’m happy for you, right?”

“I do.” I grin. It had taken a little while, but after she’d had dinner with us a couple of times, Wes had managed to win Emma over. She’d decided he was sincere and that she’d no longer refer to him as “that jackass.” I think that was one of the proudest days of Wes’s life.

I grab the glass of lemonade Emma had left me on my empty bureau and take a long swallow, then try not to grimace. It’s sour as hell. Emma made it herself, so of course it has half the amount of sugar that any normal person would use.

“Good?” she asks hopefully.

“Mmhmm.” I nod and force a smile as I try to swallow. I set the glass back down and wipe my hands on my pants. “I’m going to have a quick shower before I head out to meet Wes.”

“When are the movers coming?”

“Tomorrow morning. I’ll be back over around eight, before they get here.”

Emma nods. “Have I mentioned that I still can’t believe this is really happening?”

“Once or twice.”

Emma laughs. “Fair.”

I head towards the bathroom, but before I close the door, I pop my head back out to face my sister. She’s still sitting on my naked mattress, staring at the boxes.

“I love you, Emma.”

She looks up, surprised. “I love you too, Rori.”

* * *

An hour later, I’m climbing into the back of Wes’s SUV with him. His driver hits the road as soon as I’ve closed my door, and Wes leans over to kiss me.

“Excited?” he asks.

I rub my lips against his, then nuzzle his jaw.

“Very.”

“This time tomorrow, you’ll be moved in.”

“I know.” I look up at his crystal blue eyes, which shine happily. “It feels right, doesn’t it?”

It’s been four months since Wes’s surprise prom, and in that time, I don’t think a day has gone by where we haven’t been together. Being with him feels like the exact place I’m meant to be. Side by side with him.

He nods. “It does. And I have a surprise that I think is going to make it feel even more right.”

“You do?” Curiosity pings through me. “What is it?”

“If I told you…”

“It wouldn’t be a surprise,” I finish with a groan. “Yeah, yeah.”

Wes grins. “You catch on fast, Holloway.”

I stick my tongue out at him, then turn to look out the window. Even the city has felt different these past few months, and not just because the cloying heat of the summer has been replaced with the welcome crisp breezes of fall. The city feels hopeful again, like a world of possibilities instead of an oppressive slog.

Some of that is Wes, of course. Probably a lot of it, in fact. But some of it is everything else too. Things with Marigold are going extremely well, and Kyla and I were just talking the other day about how we finally feel like we’ve leveled up. We even have to turn down clients now, which has never happened before. We’re actually talking about hiring new staff to help with the overflow. It’s a scary thought — it’s always just been Kyla and I — but an exciting one.

On top of that, Barb offered me a seat on the board of directors at the community center. I’d never done anything like that before, so she kind of had to talk me into it, but I’m glad I accepted. I’m looking forward to being able to help shape the center’s growth. For now I’m just watching and learning, but hopefully I’ll actually be able to contribute something soon.

Wes’s business is going strong too. In fact, ever since he ditched Levi, business almost doubled. Turns out a lot of people in the business weren’t fans of Levi Goldman, and weren’t eager to do business with GoldLake as a result. Now that Wes has gone solo, his reputation speaks for itself, and everyone wants a piece of CAL Developments. The Wall Street Journal even did a whole feature on them recently. He can barely keep up with the workload, but I’ve never seen him happier.

We drive for quite a while, Wes and I making easy conversation while his driver takes us to whatever mystery spot Wes has in mind. When I realize we’re in the Bronx, I look at him in confusion.

“Seriously, where are we going?”

“Seriously, could you show a little patience?” he teases, leaning over to kiss me. I lose myself for a second, in the feel of his lips against mine. His kiss never fails to take me out of time and space, to take my mind away from whatever care was on my mind.

His hand is snaking around my neck when the car slows, pulling up in front of a low grey building with a small parking lot and a big lawn surrounded by a chainlink fence.

I look at Wes, more puzzled than ever. He chuckles and helps me out of the car.

As soon as we get out, I hear it. Barking. The gravel crunches under our feet as we walk to the front door, but then a half dozen dogs come racing through the grass, pressing their wet noses up against the fence.

Okay, I admit it — I squeal. And then I might just race over to the fence to stick my fingers between the links, letting the dogs lick me. It takes me a second to realize that they’re all bulldogs.

“Is this the Bulldog Rescue center?”

Wes nods. “Have you never been out here?”

I shake my head. “I’ve always met Mary Ellen downtown.”

He grins. “I was sure you’d figure out exactly where we were going as soon as we went over the bridge.”

“Nope. Now … what are we doing here?”

He takes my hand, forcing me to get up from my crouching position. The dogs pant and snorffle as we make our way to the front door of the building.

Inside, Mary Ellen greets us right away.

“Rori! So nice to see you. Wes mentioned you two would be dropping by today.”

“Yes, he’s very sneaky that way.” I grin, as Wes shrugs innocently.

“I understand you two are in the market for a new companion.”

“We are?!” I look at Wes excitedly. “We’re getting a dog?”

“I thought it might be nice to add a little four-legged buddy to the mix. I submitted our application last week, and they decided we’d be a good fit.”

I throw my arms around his neck.

“I love it! I love you.” I kiss him, and try not to let it linger too long, since Mary Ellen is still standing right next to us.

After a minute, she clears her throat. “I’ll just bring you in to meet the dogs, how about that? We have some amazing dogs available for adoption right now.”

I reluctantly let go of Wes and we both follow Mary Ellen into the back room.

The dogs run loose here, in a room with a dark grey rubber floor. There are beds strewn around the edges of the room, and some dogs sleep, while a volunteer plays with some of the others.

I spot her immediately — Mabel. The same aging bulldog we’d seen at their fundraising event in Central Park. The one that had covered Wes in kisses. The one who was so ugly she was cute again.

“Wes.” I elbow him and point and he laughs as soon as he sees her, which means he recognizes her too.

“Do you think it’s fate?” he asks.

I nod. Mary Ellen grins.

“That’s Mabel. We don’t know much about her backstory — she was just found wandering the street. We think she’s about ten years old now, so you’d be adopting a senior, but there are lots of advantages to doing that, they have a lot of love left to give …”

I wave my hand, cutting her off. “You don’t need to sell us on that part, I don’t think.” I look to Wes for confirmation and he nods.

Mary Ellen fills us in a bit more on Mabel, and we look at her recent vet records and talk about some of the potential risks now that she’s older. But all of it goes in one ear and out the other. I think Wes and I have both have already decided. She’s our dog. She sits down right on my foot while we talk, almost as if she knows she’s ready to come home with us.

I pet her velvety ears as Wes signs the paperwork. Mary Ellen looks like a proud mom watching her kid graduate high school. When everything’s done, she hands us Mabel’s leash and paperwork.

“Come on, Mabel,” I call, as I start to walk towards the door. She sits and stares up at me.

Mary Ellen chuckles. “You could probably change her name if you want. We have no idea what she was called before, so Mabel is just what we’ve been calling her. She clearly hasn’t adapted to it yet, so if you want to change it, now is the time.”

I look up at Wes. He shrugs.

“Up to you.”

I look at Mabel, at her squishy face and her snaggle tooth and her rolls. Her breathing is heavy, like a lot of bulldogs, and I can almost feel it rumble in my feet through the rubber floor. I get the perfect idea, and grin up at Wes.

“What do you think of … Buttercup?”

Wes smiles. “I think it’s perfect. Suits her.”

“Buttercup,” I say to the dog. “Come on, Buttercup!”

This time she gets up and trots towards us.

“I think she likes it,” Mary Ellen says, with another proud smile. “You guys are the perfect family for her. Thank you for giving her a second chance.”

I grin up at Wes. “We’re all about second chances.”

* * *

Later, when Wes and I are eating pizza and snuggling on the couch with Buttercup, who seems to be in pure doggie heaven, our blissful moment is interrupted by my ringing phone.

I almost don’t answer. Buttercup is sprawled across my lap and I have to extricate myself carefully as I reach for the phone. But when I see it’s Emma calling, I hit the answer button. After all, she’s seemed so down lately.

But I barely have time to say hello before she’s shrieking into my ear.

“Rori!!! I sold my book!!!”

“What? Em, that’s amazing!”

“I know! I’m dying! After you left, I had a long nap — okay, and maybe a long cry. There might have been a full-fledged pity party. But I just checked my email now and there it was! An offer!”

“Oh, Emma. That is the best news I’ve heard all day. I’m so happy for you. Who’s the publisher?”

“They’re called Good Grant Books. They’re launching a brand new self-help catalog and they think my book could be part of the flagship line-up.”

“Wow! This just keeps getting better.” Wes is looking at me curiously from the couch, but I give him the one minute finger. “So … does this mean you’re finally going to tell me what the book is about?”

She giggles. She sounds a tad delirious actually, and it makes me laugh to hear her so out of sorts.

“It’s a dating guide,” she admits. “Kind of a ‘modern rules for dating’ type of thing.”

“What? That’s so cool! Have you called Mom and Dad yet?”

“Not yet. I wanted you to be the first to know. You’ve always been supportive of me, and I really appreciate that.”

“Aw. Thanks Em. Now go call our parents. Mom’s going to flip. Imagine when she realizes she can tell people her daughter is a published author.”

Emma giggles. “I know. She’s going to be insufferable, isn’t she?”

“Oh, completely.”

I eventually say goodbye to Emma and snuggle back down on the couch with Wes. Buttercup opens one eye, confirms it’s me, and goes back to snoozing.

“What was that all about?”

“Emma’s book is getting published.”

“What? That’s great. We’ll have to take her out to celebrate this weekend.”

“She’d love that,” I nod. “But guess who’s publishing the book?”

He shakes his head. “No idea.”

“Good Grant Books. That’s Tyler’s dad’s company, right?”

“Yeah, it is. I’d heard they’d gotten into publishing. Small world.”

“Very small world,” I agree, thinking of Tyler and his handsome grey eyes. Almost the exact same shade as Emma’s. I shake my head, grabbing the remote off the coffee table and turning off the television.

“Tired?” Wes asks. It’s nearly ten o’clock, and we’ve got a long day tomorrow, moving all my stuff over to his penthouse.

Instead of answering, I take him by the hand. While Buttercup snores on the couch, I lead Wes down the hallway to the bedroom.

“Oh, I see,” he says gruffly, as I begin unbuttoning his shirt.

“This weekend we’ll celebrate Emma,” I tell him. “But right now we’re celebrating us.”

“I can get on board with that,” he growls. “But what exactly are we celebrating?”

“Second chances,” I tell him, and then I kiss him.

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