Katie

During my trip, I haven’t ventured to this part of the city, but as Jack helps me out of the cab, I know I’m in Chinatown. Chinese writing adorns the store awnings, the banks, food carts. Traffic whizzes past on the wide street behind me, cars already blaring their horns for our cab to get out of their way, so I’m distracted when Jack leads me down the sidewalk, rolling my suitcase in his free hand. Jesus, I would be distracted no matter what, after spending most of the fifteen-minute cab ride in Jack’s arms, listening to his heart riot out of control against my ear.

His hand is a touch sweaty intertwined with mine, a muscle twitching in his cheek.

Nervous. He’s nervous. Why?

Night has swooped in, covering the city in glittering lights and cooler temperatures. Garbage whips past in the gutters, the brisk wind forcing men to raise their collars. I’m in too much of a trance to feel much, though. My gaze keeps returning to Jack’s incredible face, my mind wandering through the last two weeks.

I’m still the girl who scouted mob hit sites in a backpack, but I’ve changed, too. Two weeks ago, there were no gray areas when it came to my convictions, but those very convictions almost alienated the man beside me, when he needed help. I’ve learned a lot about how I respond when I’m scared—like fleeing to the airport. I’ve also learned I can give propriety and rules the finger when a situation calls for it. Jesus, I’m complicated. But that’s okay. Life is complicated. It’s also ongoing. I’m ongoing.

I came to New York to have enough of an adventure for my brother and me both. Instead I’ve become involved with a man afflicted with a need for alcohol, the very thing that took Sean. How would my brother react to me spending every spare minute with Jack? Would he be disappointed or hurt?

No, Sean would take one look at me and know that Jack was always meant to be my adventure. He wouldn’t hold Jack’s issues against me—or him—he would understand. That’s the kind of man Sean was. Generous of spirit. Capable of seeing the best in people. And while I want to help Jack, I think in an unseen way, I’m healing the part of myself that lost my brother, too. I’m correcting something in the fabric of my world that was ripped down the middle when Sean passed away. God knows my brother always had a peculiar sense of humor, maybe he sent Jack my way on purpose. His way of telling me to let go and love. Just love.

Maybe it wasn’t the universe sending me all those signs. Maybe it was Sean all along.

Now I’m walking down an unfamiliar street, trusting this man to guide me somewhere . . . and feeling totally at peace with that decision. Suddenly, my world is huge and complex. I’m here because I choose to be. Because my life is my own. My decisions—correct ones—are what brought me to this moment in time, no one else’s.

Knowing my own mind is responsible for this firm ground beneath my feet makes me feel strong. I might have had a crisis of faith back at the hotel. It’s totally possible I’ll have another one in the future. But I’ll find my own way through it. Through anything.

I want to find my way with Jack. He wouldn’t be on his own solid ground without me. And I wouldn’t have discovered how tough I am without him. How unwilling I am to give up when I believe in something. Somebody. I’m independent.

I’m also with Jack.

And I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave him or this place behind.

I’m not going to go. I’m not leaving this man I love.

My steps falter and Jack—looking worried—catches my arm. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

Eyebrows drawn, he tips his head in the direction we’re walking. “We’re almost there.”

“Grand,” I murmur. “I have to tell you something—”

“Surprise,” Jack interrupts, taking me by the shoulders and turning me sideways.

I don’t process what’s in front of me. Not right away. Probably because I can’t believe what I’m seeing or that it’s happening in real life. Danika, Charlie and Ever are standing a few yards away, smiling at me. Behind them is an empty stall, nestled among the other vendors selling wares. Handbags, mostly. And that’s what tips me off. The second—bigger—hint is the sign hanging above the stall. Katie McCoy Handbags. Imported from Ireland.

“What is this?”

Jack blocks my view of the stall and his friends, hands sliding into his pockets. His voice sounds faraway because the thudding of my pulse is drowning it out. “You want to go home and spend four more years preparing for the Olympics, Katie, I won’t stop you. But I wanted you to know you’re important. More than what I want or your father wants. The things you love and want are important.”

“Jack.” My hands fly to my face. They’re shaking violently. I can’t even begin to process what this means, what he’s saying. The magnitude is only occurring in increments. “How did you do this?”

“Pays to have friends in high places.” Jack smiles over his shoulder at Charlie, who throws him a salute. “Turns out someone in the licensing division owed Charlie’s dad a favor. But the permit is only good through tonight, so we better get selling.”

“I don’t know what to say.” Comprehension dawns. Finally. “This is what you’ve been doing all day?”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Started last night, actually. Would have been done sooner, but the sign maker took his sweet-ass time.”

My laugh is awkward and watery, but Jack only smiles. He actually has the bloody nerve to look relieved, as if this isn’t the most amazing gift one human being could give another. “Oh my God. Thank you. What . . .” I look down at the suitcase of bags he’s wheeling. “What if no one buys one?”

His confidence is back and it’s blinding. “Come on, Snaps. Even if they weren’t the best-looking purses in town, you’ve got four New Yorkers on the payroll.”

I don’t know exactly what he means until I see them in action. It takes ten minutes to hang the bags—all twenty of them—and everything after that is a blur. A happy, fantastic, life-altering blur. Danika and Jack pace the sidewalk, calling out to passersby, charming them until they relent and stop by the booth. Tourists, especially, don’t stand a chance when faced with Jack and Danika’s smooth wheeling and dealing. In one instance, a group of women actually cross the busy avenue and stop traffic to get a close up look at Jack, which Danika and Charlie eye roll so hard, they almost get stuck in that position.

A pattern forms, smooth and seamless. Once Jack and Danika hook the customer, Ever and Charlie close the deal by being flat out magnetic, all smiles and compliments, taking money out of the customers’ hands before they even realize the transaction has begun. That doesn’t stop me from being thrilled down to my fingertips every time someone walks away with one of my creations. Or mentally tap-dancing when women pause to compliment the style and colors.

Within half an hour, the bags are all gone. Except for one.

Jack reaches up and takes it off the hook, handing it to me. “Last one, Snaps. You want to do the honors?”

I start to say no, because after seeing these four in action, my career as a salesperson crashed and burned before it even started flying. I’m more confident with a rifle in my hand than sewn-together leather. Two truths stop me from passing up the chance, though. One, if I don’t take advantage of this opportunity, I will always regret it. Two, after Jack went to this much trouble, I’m not going to let him down. “Watch and learn, Jack Garrett.”

Heat slides into his eyes and I saunter past, walking with a lot more confidence than I’m currently feeling. My bravado deflates a little as I stutter through a greeting of the first man who walks past. He doesn’t even glance up from his phone. But Jack gives me a reassuring nod, bringing back my poise.

Turning my attention back to the foot traffic, I’m brought up short by a young man coming towards me. His haircut, his clothes, even the way he walks reminds me of Sean. He catches me looking, so I don’t even attempt to greet him, worried I might come off creepy.

He stops instead, glancing towards the stall, then back to the purse in my hands. “Are you selling that?”

“Yes.” Shaking myself, I turn over the red bag, brushing a thumb over the silver buckle. “It’s a lovely gift for your girlfriend or mother.”

“I was thinking I’d use it for myself.”

“Really.” I clear my throat. “Sure, that’s fine, too—”

He winks at me and I hear Jack growl. “I’m only joking. It’s for a friend.”

“Oh.” We share a laugh. “I made this purse myself, you know. Walk up and down this street, you won’t find another like it.”

“Hey, I’m already sold.” He digs a twenty out of his wallet, handing it over in exchange for the purse. “Someday when you’re famous, I’ll be smug knowing I have an original.”

“You do that,” I say to his departing back. And maybe it’s the place and time, the magic of New York City at night, but I feel a tiny tick of closure as the stranger continues on his way. Like this stranger that reminded me so much of my brother was Sean’s final sign that I’m on the right course. Doing the right thing by staying.

I have only a split second to reflect on the odd feeling, though, because Jack scoops me up, tossing me a foot into the air, catching me again. Charlie, Ever and Danika are attempting to perform a three-person wave in front of the stall. The blast of euphoria and gratitude that hits me is powerful, sending a laugh bubbling up from my throat.

Jack sets me back on my feet, taking my face in his hands and tiling my head back. “You did it. That was all you.”

“No.” I shake my head. “I had help. A lot of it.”

“I love you, Katie.” His green eyes seem to be memorizing my face. “Too much to ask you to stay.” He breathes hard. A punctuation. And suddenly he can’t look at me, clearly in physical agony. “Shit, I told you not being selfish is a pain in the ass.”

My lungs expel every bit of oxygen, the world seeming to pause around us expectantly. “When you leave, Katie, the sun is going to keep coming up. But it’s going to stay set inside of me, you know?” He brushes my hair back, picking up the strands and looking at each of them individually. “That’s my cross to bear, though. Making you stay . . . it would be for me. And I refuse to make demands on your time. Not when I know that same thing has made you unhappy before.”

I swear my heart is giving a death rattle, because what’s the point of continuing living when you’ve already heard something so perfect and beautiful? “Remember when I told you about the handbags, Jack? I said if I could sell one, I would know what I love isn’t a waste of time?” He nods slowly. “Do you remember what you said back to me?”

“That nothing you love could ever be a waste of time.”

When I finally gather enough air to speak, my voice is thick with unshed tears. “Well, I love you, don’t I? I love you, Jack, and you could never be a waste of my time. You’re exactly where I want to spend it.”

“Katie,” Jack wheezes, pulling me against his chest. “Katie?”

“It’s not going to be an easy conversation with my father, but I think it would be just as hard in four years. Or four years after that.” I get the wobble in my voice under control. “I’m staying.”

He pulls back, scans my face with disbelieving eyes, then yanks me close again. “Are you sure? Jesus, please be sure. I’ll . . . we’ll figure it out, honey. With your job. There has to be a way you can work here.” His heart is pounding against my ear, wild and clear. “Just give me some time to get the right answers, but holy shit, you’re not leaving.”

“No. How could I when you’re here? No.” I hold him so tight my arm muscles strain. “We’ll figure something out.”

“Um . . . hate to interrupt.” Charlie’s voice drifts in. “But if I may?”

Jack eases back, but doesn’t stop running his fingers through my hair, catching my tears with his thumbs. “Yeah?”

Not wanting to be rude, I glance over at Charlie, but I only catch a millisecond of how thrilled he is, before Jack turns my face back in his direction, proceeding to lay kisses on every square inch of my face. “You know how I like to work on a problem, right? Yeah. You guys know that about me.” There’s a smile in Charlie’s voice. “I remembered my brother telling me about the NYPD supporting a certain amount of work visas each year, mostly for foreign cops in political positions, so they can come over and learn our procedures. But some of the time, they sponsor these ninety-day visas for officers with specialized skills. Which I think we can all agree, Katie has.” Jack and I both turn our heads, finally giving Charlie our undivided attention. Hope flutters in my throat. Jack’s hand tightens its grip on the back of my shirt. “Drumroll, please. It turns out, they haven’t quite filled their maximum number of visas for this year.”

Over Charlie’s shoulder a police vehicle cruises to a stop along the curb. Positive I’m mistaken and this whole evening is an elaborate dream, I watch Lieutenant Burns climb out with a handful of paperwork.

“I assume by your expressions, my brother showed up on time,” Charlie says, dimples breaking out on his cheeks. “He’s behind me, right?”

“Yeah.” Jack’s voice is raw. “He’s there.”

No one moves as Burns approaches, but I’d have to be blind to miss the longing rolling off him in waves when he locks eyes with Danika. It’s only a fleeting look, though, before he’s back to business, standing in front of us, the picture of stoicism. He hands the paperwork to Charlie and clears his throat. “McCoy. You need to appear tomorrow at the address on the form. Passport, badge, everything. Be prepared for a formal interview.” He pauses. “If all goes well, the department is going to work out a temporary visa. Ninety days only.”

He has to raise his voice to get out those final three words, because Ever lets out a squeal. And Danika smothers a happy sob behind her cupped hand.

Burns’s cold eyes float over to Danika for a few beats, before he walks back to his car. He turns to face us again after a few steps, though. “One more thing. I stopped at ESU on the way over.” He’s not looking at any of us, instead staring down the busy sidewalk. “When your visa goes through, McCoy, Kirkpatrick wants you to work with the squad.” I’m turned thoroughly inside out at that news, but nothing compares to the joy that fills me at what Burns says next. “He wants to see you, too, Garrett. I wasn’t surprised to find out McCoy had already stopped by and urged the CO to give you a look.” He nods, cutting Jack a sideways glance. “I added my recommendation. Which means I’m going to be on your ass twice as hard now. You’re not going to let me or yourself down. We clear?”

Jack appears nothing short of shell-shocked so I wrap my arms around his waist and hold tight, so tight. “Yes, sir,” he rumbles. “Thank you.”

When Burns drives off, Jack and I face each other. And we keep looking, and looking, telegraphing every thought in our heads—relief, astonishment, happiness—until we both dive for one another, holding tight. So tight it would take a hundred men to rip us apart.

“You talked to ESU about me, Katie?” His tone is low, urgent. “As if you haven’t done enough?”

“All I did was talk. You’re going to prove yourself all on your own.”

A harsh sound leaves him. “Christ. What planet am I on that I get to keep you for myself?” His breath stirs my hair, ghosting over my forehead. “I’m going to bust my ass until I’m the kind of man who can give you everything. Love, Katie. You have all of mine. And I know you still worry, but I’m going to get better every day.”

“I know you will,” I murmur, meaning it. “I know, Jack.”

“When I say something, you believe it.” He pulls back with a face full of optimism and it’s as if the moon just got brighter. “You trust me.”

It’s not a question, but a statement. If I have my way, he won’t question my trust in him ever again. “Yes.”

“Well, trust this. They’re going to write stories someday about us.” His fingers tunnel through my hair. “About the man who didn’t know he was worth a damn until he saw what he could be through a pair of blue eyes.”

Jack’s mouth finds mine, a hoarse sound leaving his throat and marrying my sob. Traffic bottlenecks around us on the sidewalk as he gives me the kiss of a lifetime.

One that promises the love of mine.