I look at the man sitting across from me and wonder how on earth I could have ever thought about marrying him.

I mean, seriously — what was I thinking?

I sign my name on each of the two dozen pieces of paper my lawyer has shoved in front of me. With each signature, I feel that much closer to freedom.

Finally, I push the stack back to him.

“Are we done?”

“Done,” he says, shoving the papers into a folio. “This paperwork covers the equal distribution of proceeds from the sale, less the amount outstanding on the mortgage — the money will be deposited in to your respective accounts in three to five business days. The closing paperwork will be mailed around the same time.” He pauses, glancing back and forth between us. “I’ll give you two a minute,” he says, finally, before silently exiting the room.

I want to tell him not to bother, that I have nothing to say to this man, but he’s already gone.

Martin looks at me. The hazel eyes behind his horn-rimmed glasses are watery — is he actually tearing up here?

“It’s the end of an era, isn’t it?” he says, morosely.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “Don’t act like we had a great love story, Martin,” I snap, but then I soften. After all, if it hadn’t been for Martin, I never would have gotten together with Jace. I never would have found everything I wanted out of life.

“I hope life treats you well, Martin,” I say, trying to be gracious. I grab my purse and stand. I’m oh so ready to get out of here.

“Wait…” Martin stands. “Do you want to get a coffee or something? Let me take you to lunch.”

I shake my head. “Sorry. I have a flight to catch.”

“Already? I thought you just flew in this morning?”

“I did.” I grin. Now that I’ve packed up my life and moved to Chicago with Jace, I don’t want to be back in New York City for a single second longer than I have to be. “Take care, okay, Martin?”

“Sure. See you around, Celia.”

I doubt that, I want to say, but instead I just slip out of the meeting room and head for the elevators.

* * *

Rori is waiting for me downstairs. I may be in a rush to get back to Chicago, but I couldn’t come to New York without seeing my best friend.

“How’d it go?” she asks when she sees me.

I shrug. “Totally fine. I’m just glad to be done with it.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t believe everything that’s happened lately — what a whirlwind.”

“I know,” I admit. I can hardly believe it myself most days. After Jace’s proposal, we had spent a little more time hanging out with his family and enjoying the city. We had such a good time there that it was an easy decision — as soon as we landed back in New York, we both gave notice at our jobs.

It had felt amazing to hand in my resignation letter to Frank Turner. I’d even taped it to a box of muffins, just to really drive home the point.

Then it was time for a trip to Connecticut, so Jace could meet my parents. They had, of course, adored him, and they’d plied him with so much home-cooked food that I’m pretty sure the feeling was mutual.

After that, we’d flown back out to Chicago to start apartment hunting. Once we found something, we moved all our stuff and the two cats out with us. The cats were still getting used to each other, but they had settled into a mutually agreeable cold war, which we figured was the best we were going to get.

Selling the condo with Martin was the very last step in wrapping up my life here in New York and I was so glad to be done with it.

Rori and I walk back out to her car. I’ve got just enough time for a quick lunch with my BFF, and then I’m back on the next flight home.

Before we get in the car, Rori pauses. She reaches out and squeezes my hand.

“Promise me you won’t forget about me, okay?”

I almost laugh — as if there’s any chance of that happening — but then I see how her eyes glisten with tears.

“Oh my God, Rori! Never!” I give her the tightest hug I can manage. “You’re still my best friend — forever and always. Even if we’re a million miles apart.”

“Good,” she sniffs. Then she grins. “But you never know … maybe we won’t always be a million miles apart.”

“What are you saying?”

She shrugs, still grinning slyly. “Nothing for sure. Just, you know, there’s nothing really tying me to New York. Almost all my work is online these days, so theoretically I could do it from anywhere.”

“Seriously?! Would you really consider moving?”

“Maybe … no promises. But definitely maybe.”

I grin. “I’ll take a maybe. Come on — let’s go eat. I’m starving.”

* * *

One long martini-filled lunch later, and I’m on a plane back to Chicago. I can’t wait to see Jace — even though I just left this morning, it already feels like it’s been too long.

When the plane touches down, he’s waiting for me in arrivals. He wraps his muscular arms around me and dips me into a showy and dramatic kiss. Even though I know he’s doing it as a goof, I still melt into it. His kisses just have that affect on me, and somehow I have the feeling they always will.

“Hi,” I say breathlessly, when he finally releases me.

“Hi,” he says grinning. “I missed you.”

“I see that,” I tease. “I missed you too.”

“I have a surprise for you.”

“You do?” I look around. “What is it?”

“Not here,” he says, shaking his head. “At the bar.”

“I can’t wait!”

That’s the other big change in our life — Jace and I bought a bar. The same bar we’d had lunch at the day before Trent and Hannah’s wedding. It had started as a joke, and then turned into a persistent fantasy, and eventually we just decided to go for broke and make it a reality.

We’d both funneled all of savings into it, and Trent and Luke had come in as silent investors. We’ve been putting all our energy into getting it fixed up for our Grand Opening, which is in two weeks.

I eye Jace as we walk out to the SUV. “This isn’t a surprise like the time you found that creepy doll’s head behind the drywall, is it?”

He chuckles. “No, I think you’ll like this one a little more.”

We chat non-stop on the way to the bar, and the time passes quickly, just as it always does when we’re together.

When we pull up in front of the bar, I do a double take. The big sign over the door is covered up in a huge white drop cloth.

I look over at Jace. “What did you do?”

He grins. “I finally got our new signage done.”

“I thought you had decided to stick with The Pour House?” That had been the name of the bar before we bought it, and although we’d talked about changing it, we couldn’t come up with an option we both really loved.

“That was before I came up with the perfect name,” he says. “Come on.”

We climb out of the car and he unlocks the front door of the bar. He disappears for a moment and then comes back out with a step ladder.

He sets it up right in front of the window so that he can reach the drop cloth.

“Ready?” he asks. “Stand back there so you can get a good view.”

I stand at the edge of the sidewalk, right by the car.

“I hope you like it,” Jace says, and then he yanks the drop cloth down off the sign.

I laugh as soon as I see it.

Jace looks at me hopefully. “Yeah?”

“Oh my God, yeah. It’s perfect.”

The sign is green with white lettering. And the name Jace picked?

Two Steves

I cross the sidewalk towards him and wrap my arms around his waist.

“You’re pretty amazing, you know that?”

“I’ve been told that a time or two,” he teases.

We’re interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat behind us. We turn and find an older couple, maybe Jace’s mom’s age, standing there holding a basket.

“Hi,” the woman says, reaching out to shake my hand and then Jace’s. “We’re Mary and Paul and we run Fat Carrot, the little bakery up the street? We just wanted to come and introduce ourselves and welcome you to the neighborhood.”

“That’s so sweet,” I say. Jace and I introduce ourselves and we chat with them for a few minutes. Every interaction we’ve had so far in this neighborhood has been like this, and we’re so glad we decided to build our business in a community like this.

Mary and Paul eventually say goodbye, but not before Mary hands me the basket she’s been holding.

“I nearly forgot,” she says. “Just a little treat to say welcome.”

We thank them and then say our goodbyes. Jace grabs the step ladder and we both head inside the bar. I lift the cloth napkin that’s covering the basket and then burst out laughing.

“What is it, babe?”

I hold the basket out to him. “Muffins.”

He grins. “Don’t throw any at me, okay?”

I smile back. “I think it’s safe to say that my muffin-throwing days are over.”

He comes over and wraps me in his arms.

“I’m very glad to hear that,” he says, leaning in to kiss me. I let myself melt against him and my body buzzes with happiness.

Yes, those days are definitely over.

* * *

* * *

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