This was what we did. We bantered.

His eyes lit up with mischief. “You never complained about the performance during your free trial period.”

“Meh.” I shrugged. “It was free. Paying for something with hearts and other organs is a completely different matter.”

“Fine. I believe in my product. You got yourself a deal.” He stood up in front of me. I reached my hand between us to shake on it. He took it and jerked me up, engulfing me in his huge arms.

He pressed a kiss to my mouth, a Hollywood-worthy kiss—the type you see in ’90s movies seconds before the credits roll.

I was Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, an unlikely heroine in my own story.

I heard the audience stand up and cheer for us, clapping and whistling and laughing with joy. In the background, Vanessa was talking about young love and about finding yourself in another person. It sounded like she was reading it from the back of a Philosophy skincare bottle.

Hunter’s lips left mine for a beat, and I growled my protest immediately, searching for them again.

“Say yes,” he breathed into my mouth. “Say you’ll never leave.”

“Never,” I murmured. “I love you so much, Hunter. It terrifies me how far I’ll go to save you.”

“However far that is, know I’ll go even farther for you.”

He kissed me again, and the universe tilted, shifted, wiping everything clean: other people and trees and birds and buildings. The only thing left standing, upside-down, were the two of us, clasped in each other’s arms, defying gravity. It felt surreal. Unreal.

And this, I thought as I drowned in his kisses, is how you know it is real.

Three days later, Sailor drove me to Avebury Court Manor.

I wanted to see my father and Cillian a little less than I wanted to scuba dive with Scylla, the unfriendly mythical Greek sea monster. Alas, my mother had come knocking on my door numerous times, begging, crying, and pleading. After she’d admitted I was her golden child, it was a dick move to refuse her. Anyway, Sailor said if I wanted her to move her shit back to our apartment, I had to stitch things up with my family. For her, I’d make nice with world-class dictators.

But I’m repeating myself, because Da and Cillian give Bashar al-Assad a run for his money.

Then there was the other thing I hated to admit: I actually loved working for Royal Pipelines. I grew up thinking I’d hate it because I was destined to do it, not realizing it would fulfill me to be a part of my family’s company.

Making money was my calling. It gave me a hard-on. Somewhere along the way, I’d gotten attached to Royal Pipelines, and Cillian and Athair were a big part of it.

“Just listen to what they have to say.” Sailor tapped her thumb over the steering wheel.

I stared out the window, scowling at the trees shedding golden and red leaves. The gray, Gotham-like sky above the shingled colonial buildings poured hail. I realized with displeasure that I loved Boston and its East Coast grit—its filthy alleyways, four seasons, and Irishness. It bled my legacy, and I couldn’t turn my back on it. I’d lived the last few years pretending to be an all-American, Californian dudebro who was into sports and the beach and girls who wore neon biker shorts to attend Kanye West’s church. But my soul wasn’t mass-market plastic like theirs.

My soul was inked with Boston.

For the first time in a long time, I felt like I belonged.

“I will,” I told my girlfriend—yes, girlfriend—absentmindedly. Though I wasn’t exactly optimistic. “But here’s a spoiler: They’ll tell me I can have my job back, I’ll agree, and then we’ll have dinner. We’ll bail out before dessert for anal. Bareback. I’ll come everywhere. Let’s hope you don’t get pink eye.”

Unless Sparrow brings that banoffee pie she makes. Then anal can wait and we’ll stay for dessert. I would convert to its religion if it had one.

“Fine by me.” Sailor popped her lips. “All I’m asking is for you to give them a chance.”

“Done.”

“And tell me why you went to London.”

I smirked down at her. She’d asked me this a thousand times. I always gave her the same answer.

“Sorry, baby girl. It’s not my secret to tell. Just know I didn’t touch anyone there, other than myself. I did jerk off to pictures of you arching that I found on Google.”

The electronic gate of my parents’ mansion opened, and Sailor drove in, parking alongside the huge fountain at the entrance. I slid out and opened the door for her. We walked in hand in hand. A minute before we passed the threshold, she stopped. She squeezed my palm and looked up at me.

“Six months ago, I was hell-bent on going to the Olympics, and you were determined not to work for your father. Now, both those things aren’t true. I have no idea where life will take me, but definitely not the Olympics. You became your own person, a talented businessman, a guy with a girlfriend. Whatever we did, Hunter, we did it together. No matter what happens today, know that we both came a long way. I’ve never been prouder to be on someone’s arm.”

I leaned down, kissing the tip of her nose. She was a fucking vision, Sailor Brennan. I finally understood why Knight could never touch anyone else, even before he and Luna hooked up. No other girl in the world could stir in me what Sailor did when I looked at her. Adriana Lima in-fucking-cluded.