Everything is complete chaos from the very moment I end the press conference, but there’s nothing comparable to when Quinn comes sprinting down the sidewalk in the summer heat and our bodies connect with such force that despite my strength, we almost end up sprawled out on the sidewalk on national television.

Not that it would matter much. Now that I’ve revealed a secret that’s sure to shock the nation, falling down probably wouldn’t get much press coverage.

Although, with the Internet, you never know.

Her kiss is powerful, furious, full of forgiveness.

It takes me by surprise, and at the same time, it’s exactly what I would expect out of a love like ours.

I want to tell her that her presence is a balm on my aching heart, that I would have done all this for her and more, that I know there’s a long road ahead of us, that I know this is the start.

Instead, I choke out the only words I can muster: “I did it for you.”

And Quinn says the only words I want to hear. “I know. I love you. I love you.”

It’s only when I’m finally able to loosen my grip on her, to pull myself away, that we both become aware, once again, of the cameras, of the bloggers with their phones out, filming every moment of our reunion, and of the kiss, and inevitable live broadcasting of it to their audiences.

All across the country, I’m absolutely positive that we’re making headlines.

I don’t care.

All I care about is that she came back to me, and we have another chance.

I wipe the grin off my face and give the press a serious expression, then nod my head, steer Quinn by the elbow, and guide her inside the lobby, Frank on our heels.

Once we’re in the cool of the lobby, he bursts out laughing. “Boy, what a display!” he says, shaking his head. “I’ll give you two a moment. That was incredible. My God.”

He walks away, hands in his pockets, probably wondering how he lucked into a client like me.

Quinn is still catching her breath, but she instantly reaches for my hand and squeezes it. Her eyes are a mixture of confusion and relief and love and every other possible emotion under the sun.

She opens her mouth to speak, then closes it again. Her green eyes narrow.

“I don’t know what to call you, now that—” She gives a little shrug.

I do. I know.

“My name is Elijah Pierce,” I say, releasing her hand, stepping back, and extending my right hand as if we’re meeting for the first time. “It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you.”

Quinn takes my hand with a smile and shakes with the same firm confidence as the first time we shook hands, six weeks and a million years ago in her office. “Quinn Campbell,” she answers. “Your girlfriend. If you’ll have me.”

I pull her into my arms and hug her again, kissing the smooth skin of her cheek, slightly dewy from sprinting up to the building. “I think the better question is, will you have me? I know I’m not the man you thought you knew.”

“Aren’t you?” she says, pulling back and searching my eyes, her gaze intense. “I’m not sure that’s true, Chr—Elijah,” she says, correcting herself at the last moment. “Maybe you played a part sometimes, like when I saw you at the Swan, but I’ve seen the real you, too. Very real, if you know what I mean.” Quinn’s eyes are sparkling, and I get flashes of all the time we’ve spent in bed together. My cock hardens, pressing against my zipper. “You know,” she continues, her voice thoughtful. “There could be a part of you—the real you—who likes to be the center of attention. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing.”

Quinn’s words hit me like a sucker punch delivered by a choir of angels.

It doesn’t have to be all or nothing.

It’s true.

I can enjoy the company of my friends and close down the Swan and be the kind of guy who wants to settle down with a woman, keeping her close to me for the rest of my life.

Whether my friends will still want to see me is a question that remains to be answered.

I scoop her up into my arms and kiss her on the cheek again, then take her by the shoulders and look deeply into those glinting green eyes. “You’re a wonder, Quinn.”

She grins up at me. After a moment, though, her face turns serious.

“Eli—can I call you Eli?”

“You can call me whatever you want.”

“Have you talked to your father yet?”

* * *

The ride up to my father’s floor seems endless, but Quinn holds my hand tightly in hers all the way up, standing by my side in comfortable silence.

My heart pounds.

My father will have heard the news by now, if he didn’t see it being broadcast live. He and his staff don’t miss much.

I’m not surprised when his secretary stares up at me from her seat, then inclines her head toward the door.

I take both Quinn’s hands in mine outside the entrance to his office and kiss her gently.

“I’ll wait out here,” she says softly, then gives me an encouraging smile.

As I go into my father’s office, I hear his secretary already remembering her manners. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

Quinn’s reply is cut off as I close the door behind me.

It takes an enormous effort to look up from my shoes and into my father’s eyes.

When I do, I get the shock of a lifetime.

He doesn’t look angry.

In fact, he’s smiling at me, with tears in his eyes.

“Dad?” I say, my voice choked.

He gets up from behind his desk, crosses the space between us, and enfolds me in his arms.

“Eli,” he says softly, and I hug him back. “You’ve returned.”

“What?” I say, pulling back so I can look into his eyes. “You knew it was me all along?”

He laughs, stepping back to put a little breathing room between us. “I was there the moment you were born, Elijah. Did you think I would forget which one of my sons was which?”

I am overwhelmed with confusion. “But why did you—”

“Let this little game of yours go on so long?” He shakes his head. “I never expected it to last a decade, for one. There were many times I thought I might—I thought I might say something, give myself away, but every time, I held back.”

“Why?”

He puts a hand to his mouth and thinks for a moment before he answers. “Losing a child was the worst thing that ever happened to me,” he says, his voice low and soft. “I can’t imagine what it was like to lose an identical twin. Your grief must have been—it must have been overpowering.

“At first I thought it was something you’d snap out of, but as the months went by and became years, it seemed like something you needed to do.”

My mouth drops open. The lengths my father has gone to to indulge me in this are beyond what anyone could expect from any father.

“But…you had him buried under my name.”

“I did.” This might be the first time he’s ever admitted it out loud to anyone. “I did do that. Seems pretty fucked up, doesn’t it?” My father grins despite the tears in his eyes. “I guess I’m…what, an accomplice?”

“You didn’t have to do that.” The lump in my throat threatens to turn to tears.

“I did. Because one of my sons was still alive, and for whatever reason, he needed to be his brother.”

I turn away, covering my eyes with my hands. “You always…you always liked him better.”

“What can I say? I was an asshole when you were growing up. But I didn’t like him better. I wanted you to enjoy the things we enjoyed. It was a bad way to go about it.”

“Yeah, it was,” I agree heartily, and we both laugh. “Jesus Christ. I am in such deep shit.”

“No doubt about that, son,” my dad says.

Relief. Sweet relief.

“I can’t believe you let me get away with that for a decade.”

My father is silent for a moment, and then he looks me straight in the eye. “As ridiculous as it sounds…it was a way for me to have both of my sons. At least for a while.”

I look toward the ceiling and consider the pair of us, each devastated by the loss of my brother, each reacting in what might have been the most idiotic way possible. “Damn, do we need therapy.”

We laugh at that for a long time.

My gut is aching with laughter, but when it finally subsides, I have one more thing to say to my father.

“Dad, remember when we had that conversation about finding a good woman?”

“Yes?” His brow wrinkles.

“Well, she didn’t exactly keep me out of the gossip sites. I screwed that one up.”

“I’d say. That press conference is going to be pretty hard to spin.”

I wave that comment away. We can talk about all that later, but even so, I’m not worried about Pierce Industries. If anything, the extra coverage will boost its stock price.

“The important thing is…” My voice trails off. I’m relishing this moment so much that I’m already nostalgic for it.

“Spit it out, Eli.”

I’ve never smiled so brightly as in that moment.

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”