The clock changes to three o'clock in the morning. The party has dwindled down, all that's left of the celebration is a tremendous mess that someone’s going to have to clean up later.

Huxley went to bed hours ago. Harris and Vivian left around one, escorted home by Troy.

Lincoln is lying on the sofa, his Tennessee Arrows hat pulled down over his eyes, snoring away. His right arm is draped across his body, his left hand on his right shoulder. I catch Barrett watching him.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Nothing, really."

"You're lying."

Barrett grins. "Lincoln's arm is fucked up worse than he's letting on. He has some major therapy to do coming up and if it doesn't get better, he might not get re-signed."

"Oh, Barrett." My heart pulls for Linc.

"It sucks. It's all he's ever wanted to do. He's had a ball in his hand since he could pick it up. He could rattle off stats as soon as he could talk."

"Can we help?"

"No. He has to do what the doctors say and hope he didn't completely ruin his shoulder."

“I’ll say a prayer for him.”

I look around the room, but we are the only ones left. Ford, the responsible one, went to bed upstairs with his dog. Graham headed home first, right around midnight, with a look of pure satisfaction on his face. Harris is the one that praised Barrett the most tonight, but I secretly think it's Graham that's the most proud.

Camilla left, escorted by a friend of their family just a few minutes ago. Barrett glared at the guy all night, so I'm not sure if he's going to be around much longer. Sienna is the only Landry, besides Barrett, still awake and she's sitting on the back porch with Lola, comparing tattoos the last time I eavesdropped. They have the same eclectic taste, the same free-spirited mentality. They’ve hung out together all night.

The excitement of the last few days has taken its toll and I feel completely exhausted. My bones hurt, much to my surprise. I'm utterly spent. The mixture of emotions, the worry, anxiety, pride, anger, fear have all sapped my energy, and I'm left standing in the living room of the Farm trying to figure out what's next.

Barrett comes up behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist. I tilt my head to the side automatically, and his lips find my ear.

"Ready to go to bed?" he asks, kissing me right behind my lobe. He’s chewing on the inside of his cheek, a tell-tale sign that he’s feeling me out. He’s waiting on me to make the next move. But I don’t know which move to make.

Barrett spins me around, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Ms. Baker, I’m getting impatient.”

“Why?” I giggle.

“Are you ready to go to bed or not?”

"Are you sure it’s okay for us to stay here? I mean, Hux is already asleep, but I could just take him home. I didn’t realize—”

He silences me with a kiss, a lingering, sweet gesture that makes it impossible to not melt in his arms.

When he pulls back, he’s smirking. “You’re staying here. I’m not giving you an opportunity to overthink things or talk yourself out of this. This, you and me and Huxley together, is our new reality.”

My exhale comes out in skittish waves, my anxiety palpable. “I can just go home and we can see each other soon.”

"Yes. Yes, we will. Soon, as in, when I wake up and open my eyes and see you lying beside me in my bed. Then you can go downstairs and sing while you fix Hux and me breakfast."

It sounds wonderful, blissful, actually. But a part of me thinks it’s too soon for that. He might need time to process this. I might need time to process this.

"Stop," he whispers, taking my face in his hands. "I don't."

"You don't what?"

"Need to think about this."

"I didn't say that," I point out.

"You didn't have to, babe."

Just like he did on the night I first met him, he breaks me down inch by inch. His charm softens my resolve, his smirk weakening me further. His touch and scent as he pulls me into him obliterate whatever objections I have left. It’s ridiculously unfair and totally overwhelming ... and only one of the reasons I fell in love with him.

Although he’s different than any man I’ve known and he’s nothing like Hayden, I can’t help but feel a little blip of uncertainty sweep over me. Knowing he deserves the opportunity, I give him a chance to sway me to his side.

"What if this is all wrong?" I ask.

"What if it's all right?"

"What if we mess this up a million different ways?"

"What if we nail it every way we go at it?" he smirks.

"What if you decide you hate me?"

He laughs, kissing me on the nose. "What if you decide you’re going to love me forever? Because that, Ms. Baker, is what I’m going to make sure happens."

I rest my head against him, listening to his heartbeat. The room is quiet, the televisions off, and for the first time since this craziness started, it feels like it’s just him and me.

Wrapped in his arms, I feel safe. Loved. Respected. Those are things I’ve not experienced before. More than that, he’s worthy of all of those things in return.

"I have something to tell you too," I say, lifting my chin so I’m looking him in the eye.

"Yeah?"

"You won my vote back."

He laughs. “What finally convinced you?”

“Let’s see ...” I say, twisting my face in total concentration. “It might have been seeing you without a shirt on. Or it might have been watching you with Huxley. But, then again,” I shrug, a smile touching my lips, “it might have been the grapes.”