I stop and turn back to see Beck rushing toward me, weaving between tables full of staring customers. She’s wearing a sweet floral top with layers that flutter as she moves, hurrying to my side. Her eyes are shining and she’s smiling, and I only have a second to think how beautiful she is before she throws herself into my arms. I bury my face in her hair and just take in the smell of her, the feeling of having my arms around her.

“I can’t believe you,” she whispers against my ear. “Are you crazy to come here and do this?”

I set her back from me a bit so I can look in her eyes. “Probably. Chances are excellent. But there wasn’t any other way. I couldn’t go to your house, I didn’t want to bother you at work—”

“You’re a lunatic, an absolute lunatic.” There are tears in her eyes, but she’s obviously happy. “This is nuts.”

“Beck, I—”

“No, my turn,” she says. “I’ve missed you so much. So much it’s crazy—it’s made me crazy.”

“Then we’re both crazy.” I kiss her, heedless of the audience of people, uncaring of anything but the way it feels to pull her against me and taste her mouth again.

She kisses me back, but then pulls away and looks around shyly. “Maybe we should go somewhere else.”

“Come home with me,” I say. “We can talk about … everything. Just you and me.”

“I’d love that,” she says earnestly, taking my hand and leading me back to where Bri is sitting with their half-eaten dinners in front of her.

“Hey, Bri,” I say.

“Hey,” she says, laughing. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to be seen,” I say, nonsensically.

“I want to leave with Garrett,” Beck says, picking up her purse, “but I drove my car.”

Bri smiles. “Give me your car keys. I’ll handle it.”

“How? Can you—”

“I’m an adult, Beck. I can manage this.”

Beck pulls her keys out and drops them on the table. “Thank you,” she says, and takes my hand again.

And then we turn, together, and head for the door.

***

I drive us to my house, feeling a bit dazed. Beck’s in the passenger seat, like she has been so many times, but everything is different. I have so many things to say to her—or, honestly, one really important thing, and the rest can flow from there.

Fortunately, it’s only a few minutes before we’re pulling into my driveway. Both of my parents’ cars are gone, and I breathe a sigh of relief. They give me all the space I need—it helps that my room is set off from rest of the house the way it is—but this would be super awkward.

I lead Beck inside and down the stairs, and turn to her, opening my mouth to start our long-overdue conversation.

“Me, first,” she says. “I have to tell you I’m sorry—”

“Oh my God, Beck, no—”

“Yes. I only just figured it out tonight, with some help from Bri. I was trying to figure out the best way to tell you, but I would have been here soon, standing here telling you that I’ve been a brat.”

I reach out and tuck her hair behind her ear. “You have not.”

“I have,” she insists. “I didn’t tell you how I was feeling, and then I got mad at you for not knowing, and I punished you for weeks for not being who I wanted you to be, but I didn’t even give you a chance.”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to argue about who was more wrong, Beck, but I did some really stupid things.”

“Okay, yeah,” she says. “Yeah, we were both dumb. Almost even-steven. But I want you to know, I don’t blame you for any of it.” She tilts her head, considering. “Well, maybe the double date.”

I groan and drop into the recliner near my bed. Reaching out, I grab her wrist and pull her into my lap, where I kiss her very thoroughly. “I’m sorry,” I say, when we come up for air. “That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I just wanted to get back to where we were—to get back on footing I could understand. You’ve been so important to me my whole life, and I was so afraid of losing that.”

“Are you afraid of that now?” she asks.

No,” I say, “because I’m not letting you go. No matter what. You’re stuck with me.”

“That sounds great,” she whispers. “I want to be stuck with you.”

“I’m not playing around,” I tell her. “I realized something really important on the boat that night, Beck. I’ve been going from girl to girl for years, never happy, never satisfied—because they weren’t you. It’s only you, and now that I’ve figured it out, I don’t want anything else. I wish I’d figured it out sooner.”

She curls into me, wrapping her arms around my neck. “It doesn’t matter.”

My body reacts about how you’d expect, starting to pay attention to the warm, sweet-smelling woman in my arms. “Beck—”

“Really.” She kisses me lightly, then again, a little harder. “It doesn’t matter. This is what matters, us here together. Like we’re supposed to be.”

I run my hands up and down her arms, and feel goosebumps rise under my fingers. “Like we’re supposed to be.”

She catches one of my hands and presses it against her breast. Her nipple is hard under the fabric of her little fairy shit. “I want you to touch me,” she says, her voice throaty with desire.

I swallow. “This isn’t why I brought you here,” I say. “I just wanted to talk to you in private.”

“Then you’re a fool.” She arches her back slightly, and her breast settles into my hand. I run my thumb over that hard nipple, and her breath hitches. “The minute you suggested it, I knew what I wanted.”

“What do you want, Beck?” I squeeze, watching her eyes lose focus for a moment.

“I want you to touch me,” she breathes. “I’ve thought about that night in Boston so many times, and I thought you would never touch me again. Please.”

I stand, swinging her into my arms and carrying her the few steps to the bed, where I lay her down and drink her in with my eyes. Her hair fans out across the pillow, just like it did that first time, in the hotel. There’s no moonlight here, just the dim light beside the bed, but her skin glows in that light as she lifts her arms and I move into them, sinking down on top of her.

And then my mouth is on hers again, and my cock is straining against the front of my jeans as she wraps her arms around me and arches up to press her body against mine. I slip my hands up under her shirt and cup a breast in each hand, flicking my thumbs over the hard, insistent nipples. She inhales sharply then practically purrs my name on the exhale. All the blood drains out of my head. I push her shirt up and replace my hands with my mouth, feasting on her firm sweet breasts, using my tongue and my teeth until she’s got both hands fisted in my hair and her breath is coming in short, sharp gasps.

I reach down and unbutton her pants, sliding my hand inside. She moans as I stroke her, and I bring my mouth back to hers and catch her lower lip between my teeth.

“I like the sounds you make when I do that,” I say, pressing my thumb firmly against her.

She shivers. “It’s almost too much,” she whispers.

“You said you wanted me to touch you,” I tell her, peeling her pants down over her long, long legs, “and that’s what I’m going to do.”

“It’s not just about me,” she says.

“Yes, it is. Tonight, it is. Quiet down and let me take care of you.”

Levi was right. The urge to care for Beck, to keep her safe and happy—I can do that, and still have her for mine. Forever.

And forever starts right now.