I spend a good chunk of my weekend replying to the comments on the post about Lyla Kettler, letting them know that I’m the one who made the shirt. So many respond, saying they had no idea I actually made clothes, and asking if I had a brand in the works and when it would be available to purchase. Their enthusiasm gets me excited about the next step in this venture, even though I have no idea what I’m doing.

Seeing something I made so loved by people makes me happier than I thought it would. Before, when being a successful designer was something I’d just imagined for myself, I wasn’t able to conjure up what kind of feeling would accompany that acceptance. I couldn’t possibly have come up with this level of contentment and fulfillment without experiencing it.

I go over to Ben and Marisa’s apartment for dinner on Sunday, to get some advice on what first steps I should take to get this thing off the ground. Ben thinks we should talk to Caleb when he returns to town from a business trip to China. He also suggests calling Oliver, but I don’t want to do that.

I mean, I do want to talk to him about it. Desperately, really, but I’m not ready to be just friends with him yet, and I don’t think it’s a good idea to keep going back to each other; we’ll never be able to move past this if we don’t get a little bit of space and closure first.

Marisa seems like she wants to argue with me on that, but I stand firm. She mentions talking to Eloise again, and this time I agree. I’m not going to let any of my weird hangups keep me from getting somewhere with this clothing line. Marisa tells me she’ll give Eloise a call first thing in the morning, and I leave Ben and Marisa’s apartment excited to get to work sketching some new designs.

When I get to the office the following morning, Marisa is hard at work on something on her computer.

“Good morning,” I say, slipping my bag off my shoulder and onto my desk.

“Good morning!” She says excitedly with a smile. “I got you a congratulations latte.” She points to the left side of my desk, and I grin. I take a sip before I sit down.

“Thank you so much. I’m severely under caffeinated for this early on a Monday.”

“I talked to Eloise this morning,” she says, leaning forward excitedly and resting her elbows on the desk. “She has someone she thinks might be interested in helping you start up your brand.”

“Oh! Wow, that was fast.”

“Gotta strike while the iron’s hot,” she says.

“Okay,” I reply, pulling my laptop out of my bag. “What do I need to do?”

“I set up a dinner for all of us on Friday, can you make it?”

“Yeah,” I say, excited. “What should I bring?”

“Just yourself. I’m gonna text you an address. Meet us there, okay?”

I nod excitedly. “Looking forward to it.”

I arrive at the address that Marisa gave me with a few minutes to spare. After I step out of my cab, I take a few seconds at the door to collect myself and calm my nerves.

I know it’s important not to get excited over a deal that hasn’t happened yet, but…the possibility is right there, so close I can taste it.

I’ve been to this restaurant before a few times, but I remember it being busier. Usually there’d be a line out the door, but tonight? There’s only a bouncer standing ready at the door, eyeing me like I’m a person he’s been waiting for.

“Hi,” I say as I approach him. “My name is—”

“Miss Williams,” he says with a friendly smile. “Welcome. Your party is waiting.”

He opens the door and I step inside. Immediately I’m alerted to something being off here. The lights are dimmed, there’s no din of diners’ chatter, no clinking of forks against plates that usually follow when you walk into a busy restaurant.

My senses tingle when I see a smiling, well-dressed woman sitting on a settee at the front of the restaurant, near the maître d’ station. She’s wearing huge—but fashionable—glasses, her grey hair cut in a severe bob. She’s wearing a red wrap-front jumpsuit with a tied waist that is to die for.

“Felicity?” she asks.

Completely confused and stunned speechless, all I can manage is a nod.

“Hi,” she says with a smile. “My name is Francesca Brown.”

I shake her hand. “I’m Felicity,” I say stupidly, since she clearly knows who I am.

She just grins, ignoring my surprise. “Please, sit.” She sits and pats the spot on the settee right next to her. I do ask she asks.

“I’ve seen your portfolio. I’ve gotta say, I love your work.”

“My portfolio?” I probably sound like an absolute idiot, but I don’t have a finalized portfolio yet, and even if I did I’ve definitely never shown it to this woman. Did Marisa somehow get pictures of my designs and send them to her? I’m totally lost. “Are you sure you don’t have me confused with someone else?”

She reaches into her bag and pulls out an iPad, which she sets on her lap. She opens up an email attachment, and a photo of one of my dresses on a model that I’ve never seen before pops up. She hands me the iPad, and I flip through picture after picture of models that I don’t know wearing clothes that I’ve made that were stored in my studio. These pictures, in fact, were taken in my studio.

“These are your designs, correct?”

“Yes,” I reply, dumbfounded.

“Good,” she says cheerily, taking the iPad and shoving it back into her bag. “I’ve seen your work, I’ve seen the interest in your work, and I’m committed to investing in you and your brand. I think we can work together to make your dream a reality. Does that sound like something you’d be interested in?”

“Yeah. Yes,” I reply, nodding. “I’m not sure what’s going on here, I don’t think I should commit to anything right now just having met you, but—”

She pats my hand. “I know I’m taking you by surprise. I have your number, and I’ll be in touch with Eloise first thing Monday morning. We can hash things out then.”

I like Francesca if for no other reason than she’s taking this all in stride for someone who must be wondering why I’m so confused about this whole situation.

“Okay, that sounds good.” I try not to smile like an absolute loon when I said it. The adrenaline is pumping, like my body is about twenty steps ahead of my brain.

She stands and I shake her hand, completely in a daze.

“It was nice meeting you, Felicity.”

“You too.”

Francesca gives me a kind smile, and nods in the direction of the room just beyond the short hallway by the settee. “You should head in there. You have a big fan waiting for you.”

She walks out the door before I have much time to react, and when I turn and walk down the hallway, I notice the soft flicker of candlelight dancing on the walls.

Oliver stands in the middle of the room. He’s wearing one of my favorite suits of his, looking about as nervous as I’ve ever seen him.

My legs carry me forward without me even thinking about it, drawn to him as always.

“Oliver, what’s going on? Did you do that?” I hook my thumb over my shoulder toward the restaurant’s entry.

“Yes, with Marisa’s help. You said the other day that you had decided to stop putting conditions on your life, and let whatever happens, happen. I thought maybe I might get whatever happens going in the right direction.”

I can’t help but grin. I’ve got the start of the business I’ve been wanting for a while now, and the man I’m in love with is looking at me like he doesn’t plan on letting me go this time.

“There were a few investors interested,” he tells me. “I picked Francesca because she had the most relevant experience, and she was the most excited about what you had to offer. I can set up meetings with the others if you want to get to know them.”

I shake my head, completely trusting that this man I’ve known and loved forever has nothing but my best interests at heart, especially in an area where I’m not an expert. “I know you’re looking out for me, Oliver. Thank you.”

He smiles, looking somewhat relieved. “You’re welcome.” He looks at me, eyes shining, for a few seconds before he says, “You made my dreams come true, the least I could do was reciprocate.”

I don’t miss that he said dreams, plural.

“You mean the house?” I ask, nerves swirling in my belly.

He reaches out and rests his hand on my cheek, pushing my hair back behind my ear. “Not just the house, Felicity.”

He’s looking at me with so much love in his eyes that it’s difficult for me to breathe. Anticipation hangs in the air between us, crackling.

“Oliver,” I whisper, desperate to hear what he has to say next.

He drops his hand, and takes both of mine in his. “I was hoping you could forgive me. I’ve been thinking a lot about you and me, and why I pushed you away.” He looks down at our fingers, his jaw ticking. “I’ve dated a lot, but I’ve never been able to make a relationship work. I thought I wasn’t good for you because I was bad at them, or destined to fail, and I didn’t want to risk our friendship when I knew I would ultimately lose you anyway. But I’ve realized that all of that dating and all of those failures was me searching for someone who made me feel the same way that you do, but who didn’t come with all the risks.”

He looks flustered for a second, like that didn’t come out the way he intended it to.

“Not that loving you is risky,” he continues, “It is, but—”

I can’t help but grin. “I thought I was the babbler in this relationship.”

He huffs out a laugh, then his expression goes solemn. “There’s a lot riding on this.”

“There is,” I agree. “My family is your family, my brother is your best friend. You have a lot to lose if things don’t work out between us.”

He nods with a relieved sigh. “I got a taste of what that life was like these past couple of weeks, and I don’t want it. I don’t want a life without you. I missed holding you, kissing you, just hearing about your day. And now I know that I’ll never find someone else who makes me feel like you do, because you’re it for me, Felicity. Everything is tied up in you, for me, and it has been for a long time. I’m sorry I made you doubt that, made you think that I could ever regret you. I know I have some work to do to make up for that, but it would mean everything if you let me try.”

I think about the Oliver I know, the businessman who closes every deal, the friend I’ve had my whole life who’s always mostly been an open book. Admitting that he’s scared of taking the risk that comes along with dating me feels like the last wall between us crumbling. Now that we can talk about it, I can do my best to alleviate his fears, and we’ll take the next step together, without anything standing in our way.

I’m going to let him try to make it up to me, there isn’t a single doubt in my mind. I move closer, sliding the backs of my fingers along the scruff of his cheek the way he likes. I take a deep breath, steady myself, and prepare to take a giant leap of faith. He’s worth it. We’re worth it. I know we are.

Oliver’s eyes flutter closed as I brush my nose against his, then give him a soft, slow kiss. It feels like everything that was off-kilter in my world shifts back into place, like I’m coming home after being gone for years.

“I missed you,” I whisper, pressing my forehead against his.

“I missed you, too. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you what I was feeling, that I let everything fall apart. I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

“Tell me what you’re thinking, and we can get through anything together.”

He smiles. “Yeah, I’m starting to learn that.”

“Don’t make me miss you again, please. Not…not like that.”

He squeezes my hand, then wraps his arms around me and gathers me close. Just breathing him in helps calm my racing heart. Oliver’s always been my rock, my confidant, my biggest fan. “I promise. I’ll show you.”

“You better. You have a lot to make up for,” I tease, tugging on his tie.

He takes my hand and leads me toward a staircase in the corner of the room.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

With a wink and a mischievous grin, he says, “I’m gonna start making it up to you right now. There’s a surprise upstairs. C’mon.”

Oliver and I walk up to the rooftop terrace, which is lit by strings of Edison lights hanging from a giant pergola that covers the tables. My brother and Marisa, along with Caleb and Mia are lounging in a little seating area near a fireplace, sipping champagne and eating canapés.

Oliver slides his fingertips down the inside of my wrist and threads our fingers together before we step out to greet our friends. It’s our first time around them as a couple, and as much as I was looking forward to it, I’m also nervous. Ben’s apologized to me and to Oliver, but the memory of his reaction the last time he saw us together makes my heart crawl into my throat.

“Surprise,” Oliver says with a whisper in my ear.

I respond with a kiss. “Thank you for doing this. This is what I wanted, to be able to spend time with our friends without hiding. Just you and me being us.”

He kisses me again, and I tease the nape of his neck with my fingertips as he lingers.

“Are you ready?”

I nod. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Marisa catches sight of us when we step out, and she stands up with a giant smile on her face, bringing her hands up into a giddy clap that I’m sure she’ll be embarrassed about later. My brother stands as well, and his eyes drift down to mine and Oliver’s joined hands. For a split second I think he’s going to say something to ruin this, but he just grins, walks over, and gives us both hugs and congratulations.

All of them do the same. The love and acceptance from the most important people in my life makes me float even higher on this amazing night.

Once Oliver and Caleb start talking about the Mets, Marisa takes me aside and excitedly asks, “Did you meet Francesca? Did you love her?”

I love the enthusiasm that my sister-in-law has shown for my work. “I did! I can’t really gauge whether or not I love her or not because I was so confused about what was going on. It was sneaky putting together a portfolio without telling me, though.”

She nods, looking hesitant. “Oliver called me the night the blog post went up, because he wanted to put together a plan, to do something nice for you like you’d done for him with the house. He knew you were confused and unlikely to accept help from him with the way things were between you, so…yeah, it was sneaky. We put together that portfolio and showed your designs to five people. She was the one that we liked the best, and the one that Oliver thought would be the best fit. I agreed. I hope you aren’t mad.”

“How could I be mad at people so invested in me that they want to make my dreams come true?”

She seems relieved at that.

“I’m grateful,” I say, giving her a hug.

“You know I support you in whatever you do,” she says, and I know it’s true. “I don’t know what kind of time you’re going to need to get this thing off the ground, but we can work things out and be flexible with the site. Especially if it drives traffic the way the post with that shirt of yours did.”

“Thanks, Marisa.”

She comfortingly rubs her hand up and down my arm. “You’re welcome.”

When waiters parade dinner out onto the terrace, we all sit down at the table and enjoy the food. Champagne flows freely, the conversation is lively, and we get along just like we always have. Except now, Oliver reaches out and takes my hand when I want him to. He slings his arm around me, pulls me close, and kisses my temple when all the giddy excitement inside me bubbles up into a laugh as we talk about my future. He rubs soothing circles on my back as our friends tell us all about what they’ve been up to lately.

It’s all I’ve wanted. And tonight, in so many ways, feels like a fresh start.