The past two days have been bittersweet.

Bittersweet because even though London and I have established ourselves as a couple, that doesn’t mean we’ve spent every waking moment together.

We both have responsibilities—well, mainly him, and that’s Emily.

He wanted to talk to her about us before introducing me into his family, which I completely understood. Kids can be tricky, especially since Belle, I can imagine, isn’t too pleased that I’ll be a part of her daughter’s life.

I don’t know where Belle and I stand. She will always be a part of London’s life; therefore, she will always be a part of mine because there is no way I’m letting him go ever again. But I have to admit, it’s weird. It’ll take me a while to accept, seeing as I tried for so long to forget her.

As for Lincoln, again, it’s bittersweet. He’s still MIA, and while it’s nice I don’t have to deal with him, I can’t help but think this is the calm before the storm. The longer we prolong this, the harder it’s going to become.

Martha has assured me he hasn’t been back to our apartment, but that doesn’t mean he’s not back in New York, which is the reason I’m on hold with Lincoln’s assistant.

I’ve tried my absolute hardest not to give myself away, but I’m certain she’s suspicious of why I’m asking if she’s seen my fiancé. I’ve made up some lame excuse that I left something sentimental back in New York and couldn’t get married without it. Lincoln offered to get it, but now I haven’t heard from him.

I hinted that because he’s such a workaholic, I figured he’s snuck in a few hours work. I tried not to gag when I recited this in a sickly-sweet voice.

“Holland? Are you there?” asks Jennifer. She is a nice enough girl, but since Lincoln is a lying, cheating pig, I’m suspicious of everyone.

“I’m here,” I reply cheerfully, putting my game face on.

“I’m sorry, but no one has seen him. I asked around the office. He would usually check in with me, but I haven’t spoken to him. I hope he’s okay. Should I let Gerald know?”

“No!” I almost shout, shooting up from the end of the mattress. “Why worry Gerald?” Gerald is Lincoln’s partner in crime, and if anyone is housing him, it’s Gerald. “I’m sure he’ll turn up.”

Rubbing my brow, I sigh. Where the fuck is he?

“Okay. I will let you know if I see him.”

“Thanks, Jenn.” I hang up, tossing the phone onto the bed.

This is making me nervous. Someone just doesn’t disappear. Peering at my reflection in the mirror, I arch a challenging brow.

I haven’t shared my thoughts with London about Lincoln and custody over Emily because I don’t want to worry him. Until I talk to Lincoln, there really is no point in stressing us both out.

It was his weekend to have Emily, so I haven’t seen him, but tonight, he’s dropping her off at Belle’s. Once that happens, he’s coming to pick me up so he can make good on his word and take me on our date.

I offered to meet him someplace because even though my mom said she’d try her best to be civil toward him, I didn’t want to rub him in her face. My dad has remained tight-lipped, and it’s apparent he isn’t as open-minded as my mom.

Over the past two days, my mom and I have reconnected, and it’s been nice. We went shopping as I needed a brand-new wardrobe. Doing all the normal mom and daughter things like going for coffee and talking, we are trying to salvage the relationship we’ve lost.

Work is running smoothly without me, which is a relief. Now that I know those letters weren’t from the Rossi crew, the pressure is off. I’ve been checking my email, and my assistant, Yvonne, has ensured I receive anything of importance.

She hasn’t mentioned Lincoln turning up unannounced, so it’s safe to assume he’s staying out of sight from anyone who might recognize him.

Not wanting to ruin my night with thoughts of what awaits me, I look at my reflection in the full-length mirror. My wardrobe overhaul was cathartic, and this peacock green dress is one of the many reasons why.

It’s casual but cute with thin straps and a short, gathered skirt. I’ve forgotten how hot the California sun can be, so I’ve opted for brown sandals. My hair is tied into a high ponytail, and my makeup is light. All in all, I’m beginning to feel like me.

London said he’d pick me up at seven, so it’s no surprise when I see his truck pull up just after. The lace curtain shields me as I watch him exit the truck. He runs his fingers through his hair, looking a touch nervous.

He looks amazing in dark blue jeans and a black button-up shirt. As I watch him walk to the front door, it’s still hard to believe this is happening.

Grabbing my bag, I rush out of my room and dash down the stairs so I don’t subject him to any unnecessary discomfort. Baby steps. He’s here, and maybe next time, I can reintroduce him to my parents.

He doesn’t get a chance to ring the doorbell because I get to the door first.

When I open it, I grip the doorjamb because I’ve forgotten how damn incredible he is. “Hey.” I’m proud of myself for articulating a coherent greeting.

“Hey, yourself.” He doesn’t bother with pretenses and swoops forward, drawing me into an embrace. “I missed you.” I wrap my arms around his broad shoulders as he cups the back of my neck and brings me in tight.

“I missed you, too,” I whisper, basking in his scent as I bury myself into him.

A simple hug shouldn’t feel this good, but I should know by now, nothing is simple when it comes to London Sinclair.

“How have you been?”

“Better now,” I reply with a docile smile.

We break apart, both appreciating the other because it feels like two hundred years instead of two days since we last saw one another.

“Where are we going?”

He takes my hand. This is so like London—no matter what we’re doing, he always has to touch me. The fact has me grinning like an idiot. “I thought we could go down to Santa Monica.”

“Sounds perfect.”

This suddenly feels exactly like a first date because although I’ve performed some deliciously lewd acts with this man, this is something new, something we haven’t done before.

“Hello, London.” And when my mom greets him from behind my shoulder, this just adds to the first date vibe.

He breaks our gaze to meet hers. “Hello, Ms. Brooks.”

I hold my breath.

“Where are you two off to?”

I exhale.

Turning slowly, I’m thankful she isn’t toting a shotgun.

“I was thinking of going to Santa Monica.”

She’s clearly uncomfortable but nods for my benefit. “It’s a lovely night for it. Will you be coming home, sweetie?”

Clearing my throat, I look at London as we hadn’t discussed it. “I’ll have her home by twelve.”

My mouth gapes open, but London ignores me.

Even though this is absolutely absurd, as I’m a grown woman and can stay out until the sun comes up, I remain silent because this is progress. I don’t want to rock an already unstable boat. When my dad suddenly emerges, however, I realize this might be a re-enactment of the Titanic going down.

Iceberg! Iceberg!

There’s a shift in body language as London stands tall—like a soldier standing to command. “Hello, Mr. Ferris.” He steps forward and offers my dad his hand.

My father eyeballs it, then wraps his arm around my mom protectively. “Hi,” is his curt response. I suppose it’s better than the last time they met.

London sighs before dropping his hand.

Well, the air just dropped around fifty degrees, but this is the best we’ll get for now. “We better get going, seeing as I’ll apparently turn into a pumpkin come midnight.”

London’s lips twitch, but he remains straight faced.

“Have a good night.” My mom waves a gentle goodbye while my dad appears as though I’m walking off into the sunset with Satan himself.

Reaching for London’s hand, I slip my fingers through his, saddened my dad can’t let this go. The corded veins in his neck display just how hard he’s trying to be polite, so I guess that’s better than him throwing London off his porch again.

As London tongues over the scar above his lip, I know he too is thinking of the memory. “Bye,” I say to my parents as I lead London down the stairs. He comes willingly, but by the slight drag to his feet, it’s apparent he wants to talk to my dad.

Even though his intentions are good, I know this will just makes things worse.

“Not now,” I whisper, shaking my head. He thankfully lets it go—for now.

We walk toward his truck, and when he opens the door for me, I’m certain I can hear the grinding of my father’s teeth from here. I quickly enter, thankful when London jumps in beside me unscathed. He starts the engine.

My parents watch on unhappily, the sight tearing out my heart. I’m torn; I don’t want to hurt them again, but we need to find middle ground. “Last chance to back out,” London quips, only half joking.

“Just drive.” He does as I say, and my parents look displeased that I didn’t change my mind. They turn and enter the house, not looking back and neither do I.

For the first few minutes, we’re both quiet, processing what just happened until London breaks the silence. “Well, that was fucking horrible.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” I try to reason, but it’s laughable at best.

His hands are locked around the steering wheel; his eyes focused on the road. “No, it was worse. I’m sorry, Princess. If I hadn’t been such an asshole to you, your parents wouldn’t want me dead. I did give you a black eye and make your life hell.” He flinches at the memory. “They have every right to hate me.”

I recall the incident well. He threw his football at me, putting his quarterback prowess to good use. Bruised and livid, it was here I uncovered I’m a complete masochist, and my obsession with London Sinclair, or Sin, began.

“In my defense, I didn’t mean to hit you in the face. My aim was off because I was a little distracted by your legs when you were walking down those stairs.” He tongues over his smooth scar, lost in the past. “But that’s the story of my life when it comes to you.”

“Apology accepted although you didn’t get off unscathed.”

He laughs, turning his cheek to look at me. I’m thankful some of the worry has faded from his eyes. “Damn straight. I still have nightmares about your viciousness.” He shudders playfully.

The air is cleared, and I breathe a sigh of relief. “So we’re okay?”

“Yes, of course,” he confirms, eyes ahead.

Seeing as we’re taking this pleasant trip down memory lane. “Do your parents know I’m back?”

We have yet to discuss this. With everything going on around us, it seems wise to tackle one problem at a time.

His cheeks billow as he exhales. “Yes.”

I wait for him to elaborate. When he doesn’t, I press. “And?”

“And I don’t really care what they think.” Which is code for it was a fucking disaster.

Shuffling in my seat, I yank on the seat belt to keep it from cutting off my air supply. I don’t know why I expected this to go any other way. Just because London and I are in love doesn’t mean everyone around us has to be.

“Maybe we just need to lock our parents in a room and have them fight it out, UFC style.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but when London just pulls his lips into a thin line, I crack open the window to get some fresh air.

“This is so ridiculous. It’s been forever. Your mom should just apologize…”

“And so should your mom.”

His lightning-quick comeback has me turning in my seat gradually and arching a brow. “You’re not…defending her, are you? Because in case you’ve had a lapse in memory, she’s part of why we were apart. My mom never told me to stay away from you.”

“Didn’t she?” he asks. His tone isn’t accusing, though. He’s merely asking a question. But it irks me nonetheless because he’s right—she did.

“That’s different,” I say, primed to defend her honor. She is nothing like Kayla Sinclair. My mom was only trying to protect me; there is no way the same can be said for Kayla’s intentions. But I’m suddenly not so sure.

In her warped way, was she trying to keep her son away from me, the spawn of evil? She knows firsthand how stubborn London is. No doubt she’d tell him to do something, and he’d do everything in his power to defy her. So did she resort to blackmail? A little like Carrie White’s mom but it wouldn’t be admissible in a court of law.

No, fuck no. This revelation is not true. Kayla is a conniving harlot. Case closed.

“Princess, I don’t care about them. All I care about is you. We have enough shit to deal with.”

“Like?”

His hoarse chuckles settle my annoyance. “Like what happens when you go back to New York. Or when Lincoln stops being a little pussy and comes out of hiding. You still haven’t heard anything from him?”

I shake my head, the mention of him turning my already queasy stomach. “I’ve got eyes and ears to the ground but so far, nothing.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. He was always a gutless asshole. Nothing has changed.” His anger almost burns me, and I decide to put this conversation on hold. Talking about Lincoln while operating machinery is definitely not recommended.

We ride the rest of the journey in silence.

I’m held prisoner by the sea of lights, lost to my musings over whether London and I have jumped into this too quickly. In no way am I questioning my feelings for him, but maybe we should have gotten to know the adult version of ourselves before committing to one another so quickly.

Sighing, I rest my forehead to the glass, suddenly feeling sixteen again.

Only when London kills the engine do I realize we’ve stopped. Blinking back my fears, I take a closer look to see where we are because this is definitely not Santa Monica.

When the bright pink and blue fluorescents light up the inside of London’s truck, I all but press my nose to the windshield to ensure I’m not seeing things. I’m not. It may have had a slight revamp since I was last here, but there is no way I would ever forget Paradisco Roller Rink.

“I thought you could teach me a thing or two.” His words are heavy with an unspoken message, but I’m so happy he brought me here, I decide to focus on the now. “And besides”—he leans over the middle console wearing a grin—“I still have very sweet dreams about you in those tiny pink shorts.”

I reach out and playfully slap his arm.

Just like that, the discomfort settles, and I berate myself for allowing my fears to cloud my better judgment.

“I hope you don’t mind?” he asks when I don’t speak, but honestly, I can’t articulate how perfect this is, how perfect he is.

“It’s perfect. Thank you for bringing me here.” His smile is all the reward I need.

When he exits the truck, I sit back and watch as he rounds the hood. Never in a million years did I ever think we’d be back here as adults on our first date. But here we are, and I can’t stop grinning like a love-struck teenager.

When he opens the door and offers me his hand, I’m certain my cheeks are going to explode from all the smiling I’m doing. I slip my palm into his and step down from the truck, almost pressing us chest to chest.

I want to say so many things, but none of that matters. We will figure this out as we go. Even though I’ve known him my entire life, this is new ground for us. “Best first date ever,” I say, leaning forward and kissing his cheek.

When I pull away, I can’t help but chuckle at the cheated look on his face.

“I can’t put out on the first date.” I open my mouth in mock horror, and he shakes his head at my playfulness.

Most would think we would want to steer clear of this place as it was here I was supposed to meet London. But coming here is exactly what we both need to exorcise the ghosts of our past. To move on, we have to confront our demons and ensure we don’t make the same mistakes twice.

We walk toward the entrance, and I smile when I see the silver glitter skate still hangs above the door. As soon as I step foot inside, I’m flooded with so many memories, and I need a moment to take it all in. The star attraction, the white roller rink, is exactly how I remember it. A cluster of disco balls hangs from the ceiling, the mirrored surfaces catching the light and sending tiny rainbows across the large room.

The number of red lockers against the far wall has doubled in size, but I suppose that’s to cater to all the cheerful skaters who are dancing to a classic disco song. It’s good to hear the music playlist hasn’t changed either.

The rental counter, which was my main go-to when I didn’t want to deal with the screaming kids at the snack bar, still has the bright pink racks filled with skates and shoes. The long wooden counter is also the same.

I do remember that counter being my savior when London re-entered my world. He had just been released from juvie, and even though he didn’t write me back and I was supposed to be mad at him, I was beyond elated to see him again.

Lincoln most definitely didn’t share that happiness. Thinking back, I guess that was a common occurrence whenever London was involved.

London snaps me from my reminiscing and leads me toward the rentals.

We pass a new addition to the rink, and that is a small arcade area. Back when I worked here, there was a claw machine and a photobooth, but they’ve knocked out a wall now to make room for this alcove of fun.

Kids sit behind the wheel as they control their animated car while others bang down on green toy alligators as they emerge from their forest habitat, catching players unaware. The mood is contagious, and I can’t help but admire the happiness this place still brings people after all this time.

When we reach the rental counter, I watch the young girl retrieve two pairs of skates. The couple in front of us are the same age London and I were when he came strolling in here, a changed man.

Unintentionally, I glide my fingers along his taut forearm. I first saw his tattoo of the piano keys and golden crown here, and I was utterly entranced by it. Now that I know the meaning behind it, I can’t help but run my thumb over the inked surface.

London’s flesh breaks out into tiny goose bumps while I suppress my whimper.

“Next.”

When the girl looks at us with a smile, I wonder what she sees. I know what it’s like looking out, but now, I’m on the other side, looking in. “Hi.” We step up to the counter while I peer at the racks nostalgically.

When she looks behind her, scrunching up her nose, I realize I’m one of those adults I used to roll my eyes at. “Back in my day…” they used to say while I nodded and pretended to listen while really, I was fantasizing about how good London looked in those tight white football pants.

Shaking my head, I clear the lust and nostalgia and rattle off my shoe size, then London does the same.

We exchange our shoes for skates, and the moment we do, I smile like a deranged lunatic. I haven’t skated in forever. Desperate to change that fact, I place my things in a locker and make a mad dash to the long bench seat. With a nostalgic sigh, I slip into my old-school skates—the best kind.

Cinderella can keep her glass slippers because this is my happily ever after.

London takes a seat beside me, grinning from ear to ear. “Go gentle on me. If I remember correctly, you were Tonya Harding in training…baton and all.”

I mock laugh, clutching my sides as his joke is simply hilarious. Not. “If only I had the opportunity to beat you with it.” I flutter my eyelashes innocently, making his lips twitch.

“Come on, killer.” Once he’s laced up, he stands slowly, arms out to the side to maintain balance.

Crossing my ankles, I lean back, watching on in utter hilarity as he wobbles. “Wow,” I say, shaking my head slowly. “Are you attempting to fly?”

He flips me off playfully, and just like that, we’re sixteen again.

The sixteen-year-old Holland takes charge, and I shoot upright, a zap of electricity pulsating through me. “See ya, baby bird.” I peck his stunned lips before taking off into a smooth glide.

It’s like a duck taking to water. Skating has always come naturally to me, which is why I applied for the job here in the first place. There is something liberating about letting go and feeling the wind whip through your hair.

Skating is all about balance, and I have no problem finding my center of gravity as I take long, graceful strides around the rink. I pass London twice before he even gets onto the floor. When he does, I feign slowing down, only to speed back up and zip past him. I turn backward to give him a winner’s wave.

His slanted grin reveals it’s game on, but he has to catch me first.

With that as my incentive, I push harder and faster, skating as quick as I can. Turning to look over my shoulder, I see that London has found his footing because he doesn’t resemble a newborn chick anymore.

He’s gaining speed, which has my adrenaline soaring through my veins.

The rink is packed full, but skater’s code dictates the faster skaters stick to the center, which is where I am currently taking off like the wind. People smile and clap as I zoom past, and when the song “I Will Survive” comes on over the speakers, I’m certain I’ll skate everywhere from now on.

I lose myself to the feeling, the song in tune with my very core because no matter what happens, I will survive this. London and I will have our issues, but what couple doesn’t? What’s important is that we are finally just that—a couple.

Turning around to skate backward, I search London out in the crowd. But just like always, I’m drawn to him. His smile is radiant, and I’m happy we can take the bitter memories associated with this place and replace them with this.

Slowing down, I wait for him to catch up as I turn and glide gracefully. The moment he’s by my side, my insides do a happy dance. He reaches for my hand. “Show-off.”

Unable to wipe my smile clean, I reply, “I think you mean winner.” To accentuate my point, I do a crossover turn. London snickers playfully.

We skate at our own leisure, hands locked. I love this openness between us. “So seeing as this is a first date, tell me everything.”

“What do you want to know?”

We’ve discussed more than enough doom and gloom, so I focus on the good. “Tell me anything. How long have you owned Absinthe of the Heart? And why did you name it that?”

His relief that I’ve steered away from the heavy subjects for now is evident. “About five years,” he reveals. “The name”—he glances over at me—“was easy. There is never enough absinthe to deal with a broken heart.”

I was right but don’t gloat. “It’s clever. Congratulations. You’ve done so well. The place is amazing.” His staff…well, one staff member is questionable, but I refuse to ruin our night with thoughts of Sandy.

“Thank you. And what about you?”

“And what about me, what?” I ask, a little tongue-tied.

“You’re an attorney. I’m so proud of you, Princess. You found your calling, after all…you get paid to argue.” Just as I’m about to elbow him into the wall, his deep, husky chuckle distracts me, and he pulls me in front of him.

He places his hands low on my hips and presses up behind me. I’m absolute goo. Our bodies move in sync as we skate leisurely, enjoying the closeness of one another.

With London at my back, I feel protected by his presence. I also feel like the luckiest woman alive because London commands attention. His epic looks combined with that air of arrogance he carries on his broad shoulders has him turning heads wherever we go.

As two young women skate beside us, shyly looking at him from the corner of their eyes, they only confirm my claims. I’m not jealous in the slightest because London barely notices them checking him out. He is with me and only me, and that warms me beyond belief.

Leaning back, I know he’ll catch me, and when I turn to look at him over my shoulder, my breath hitches when I meet his stormy eyes. “Tell me about Emily.”

He presses his chest to my back so we’re basically skating as one. “It’s not weird for you?”

Gazes still locked, I shake my head. “Of course not. She is an important part of your life; therefore, she is important to me.”

He nudges into my cheek with a relieved sigh.

Focusing on skating, we glide in silence as I allow him all the time he needs to share something he holds so close to his heart. “She is my world. She’s sassy and so smart. Nothing is ever too hard for her. She tackles challenges and doesn’t let anything stand in her way.

“She’s been in and out of hospitals for more than half of her short life, yet not once has she complained. She’s an amazing young girl.

“Being a dad at eighteen wasn’t how I envisioned my life ending up, but I wouldn’t take it back. She has taught me so much. She filled a hole I thought would never heal. Belle and I…” When he pauses, I feel the tension rolling off him.

To ease that confliction, I reach over my shoulder and cradle his cheek. “It’s okay. We have to talk about her eventually.” Ideally, talking about one’s exes on a first date is usually frowned upon, but I don’t want anything to be off-limits between us.

London leans into my touch.

“Belle and I lived together for the first two years of Emily’s life.” That’s a hard pill to swallow, but at least he had a reason to do so. I lived with Lincoln because I was a fucking idiot.

“When I found out Belle was lying, I couldn’t stay with her. I didn’t love Emily any less, but Belle, I could never forgive her. She told me what she did, and although she came clean, it was too late. I never stopped loving you, Princess, because you were it for me. I think Belle believed that after a while, I’d just forget about you.”

He turns his head and kisses my open palm. “But how do you forget someone who gave you so much to remember?”

My heart flutters, and I can’t shake my smile.

“I never slept with her,” he confesses. “I couldn’t. I supported her and Emily, but we were never romantic. I was there for her as our child’s father but nothing more.”

The relief rolls over me in waves, but that doesn’t mean he’s been a saint over the past ten years. “Who is Sandy? She made it clear you were her man.” I don’t check my sarcasm at the door because I still feel the need to smack the plastic grin from her face.

“I belong to you, Princess. I always have. But I didn’t think you’d be back. I’m not proud of my past, and that past includes making some decisions I wish I could take back.”

There is no need for him to spell it out.

I can’t be mad at him or even jealous. He lived his life, and I lived mine.

“When Belle told me you were an attorney, I was so happy because it proved everything I had done was worthwhile. After so many years, you were always, always in the back of my mind, but when I searched the internet for your name and saw the news footage of you, I couldn’t believe who I saw. The spirited girl I once knew was gone.

“So when you came back here, looking the way you did and acting like a complete stranger, I was angry with myself for letting you go because it was all for nothing. I let you go to be free, but you came back here more caged than when you left.”

He’s right.

“But underneath that hardness, I saw that fire. I saw the girl I fell in love with. You were still in there; you just needed to be found.”

“Thank you for finding me,” I say, holding back my tears.

“Princess…we found each other.” He lays a gentle kiss over my pulse. “It’s finally our time, so when the time is right, I want you to get to know my daughter. I know, considering everything, it will be difficult for you, but she’s a great kid.”

“I have no doubt that she is. I can’t wait.”

I’m not sure how Belle will react to this arrangement, but I will never cross any lines. Emily is her daughter, and I will never take that away from her.

London senses my thoughts have wandered, and he tightens his hold around my waist. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but we will take it one step at a time.” He’s misinterpreted the reason I clammed up however.

I’m so excited to be involved in Emily’s life, but I just can’t shake this ominous feeling that something—or, more specifically, someone—lurks around the corner.

I feel sick to my stomach at the thought. “Let’s go sit down,” I say, deciding not to share my fears with London just yet.

He thankfully doesn’t press and leads us over to the benches.

“Do you want a drink?”

I nod, needing a moment to settle my nerves. I don’t want to ruin this with conspiracy theories. “Yes, please.”

“Strawberry milkshake?” he asks knowingly, and I gasp. This shouldn’t still surprise me, but it does.

“Yes please, and you’re getting a”—I tap my chin—“blue cherry Gatorade.” He pauses from running his fingers through his hair. “You weren’t the only one watching.”

If we weren’t both into one another, this would be incredibly creepy.

Shaking his head with a smirk, he leans down and plants a chaste kiss on my lips. I’m needy and want so much more, but seeing as we’re in the vicinity of kids, I tone down my urge to show him that my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard.

When he pulls away, I pout with a deliberate sigh. “Let’s make this a real first date and go make out in the truck when we’re done.”

My cheeks heat because I want nothing more.

He laughs, thumbing my bottom lip, before skating off toward the snack bar. His firm ass and muscular legs hold my utmost attention, and I do a poor job of hiding the fact I want to climb him like a tree and make good on his word right now.

My insides heat, but I rein in my need to tackle him to the ground and undo my laces instead. Peering around, I see a couple skate by me who are similar in age to what London and I were when we were here last. He’s holding her tightly and laughing as she attempts to stop herself from face planting. I can’t help but smile.

They look so innocent and so in love. I hope their love grows into something beautiful because that’s what happened with London and me. The hardships were so worth it because look what we’ve achieved.

Lost in visions of first love, I don’t see London until he’s standing in front of me, hopping on one foot as he yanks off his skates. His hands don’t carry our drinks; instead, he’s holding our shoes. “Is everything all right?” I ask. The snack bar serves people while wearing their skates, so he wouldn’t need to take them off.

“Belle called.” I sit taller the moment he says her name. “Emily has come down with a high fever. When she’s like this, she sometimes seizes. She’s asking for me.” I bite my tongue to ask if it was Belle or Emily who sought him out. “I’m sorry, Princess. I have to go.”

“Don’t be,” I say, quickly taking off my skates. “I understand.”

And I do.

Emily needs him…I just hate that Belle does too. But I shove those thoughts aside and reach for my sandals.

Once London has slipped into his black boots, he hunts through his pockets for his keys. When he finds them, he waits for me to do up the buckles on my shoes. I suddenly have butter fingers and fumble.

When I finally get them done, he’s springing forward and excusing himself to pass through the thick crowd. His huge strides have me almost running to keep up. His worry is apparent because I can only imagine how upsetting it would be to have a sick child asking for you.

When I’m out the door, I see that he’s already at his idling truck, headlights shining bright. He’s waiting for me yet again.

A cab is parked by the curb, so I flag it down. London sees me and quickly jogs over. “I can take you home,” he affirms, but it’s not necessary.

“Go see Emily. I’ll be fine.”

“Princess,” he argues, shaking his head, but I won’t have him choosing because there isn’t a choice to make.

His daughter will always be number one.

“I hope she’s okay.” Standing on tippy toes, I kiss his stubbled cheek. “Thank you for an amazing night.”

He is torn, but he knows I’m right. “Let me at least pay for your cab ride home.” He digs into his back pocket for his wallet, but I stroke his arm.

“I’ve got this, London. Just go.”

His puckered lips dip into a sinking frown as he cups my cheeks. “I feel fucking terrible. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, promise.” He kisses me quickly and gestures with his chin for me to get in the cab. He makes it clear he’s not leaving until I go first.

Touched by his chivalry, I squeeze his fingers and smile. “I hope Emily is okay. I love you.”

I give him a small wave before opening the door and giving the driver my parents’ address. London bends low and peers into the cab, his arm braced above the doorframe. “I love you, too. Text me when you get home.”

I nod, reaching for the handle, but London swoops forward and steals the air from my lungs. Leaning into him, I thread my fingers through his hair, kissing him just as fiercely as he kisses me. Tiny breathless moans escape him, but he is the first to pull away.

Nudging my nose with his, he inhales while I attempt to catch my breath.

“Good night, Princess.” He swiftly retreats, closing the door and thumping the roof of the cab lightly to hint we’re good to go.

As I peer at him through the window, a thin pane of glass has never been more of an enemy than now. I raise my hand and wave good night.