I get in the shower and clean myself up. I actually packed a bag this time, so it doesn’t matter that Riona destroyed my shirt. I’ve got a perfectly comfortable flannel button-up to replace it.

Once I’m all spruced up and fit to be seen, I head downstairs to get a coffee and a muffin in the hotel cafe.

It’s 11:00. I’m feeling calm and confident.

The closer it gets to noon, a little bit of nerves sneak in.

I want to believe that Riona feels the same as I do. I want to believe she loves me.

But I know as well as she does the barriers that stand in our way. We each have commitments to our families. We each have goals.

I didn’t know Riona was still in danger from her uncle—I came to Chicago to chase after her. To make this thing work between us.

But I didn’t have a real plan. As I mull it over now, I wonder if I can give up on the ranch, and my life in Tennessee. If she asks me to stay, will I say yes this time?

I think I have to. I promised my mom I’d come home for good. But I know my mother. I know she wants me to be happy. If I tell her that Riona is the thing that will make me happiest . . . she’ll understand.

With that decided, I finally feel the peaceful spread of warmth in my chest. When Riona comes back, I’ll tell her that I’ll stay here. I’ll learn to love the city life. She’ll probably take over the law firm, and I’ll . . . figure something out. I’ve always been good at making myself useful.

Riona pulls up to the curb in a taxi cab. She jumps out, carrying a rolled-up sheet of paper in her hand.

“Hey!” she cries. Her cheeks are pink from cold and happiness. “Are you hungry? There’s a restaurant next door . . . ”

“What do you think?” I ask her, grinning.

She smiles back. “I think you’re always hungry.”

“You got that right.”

We head next door. As we’re walking, Riona slips her free hand in mine. The ease of the gesture makes my heart swell in my chest. I hold the door open for her, and she sweeps through with an unusual lightness in her step.

“Table for two, please!” she says to the hostess.

The hostess sits us in a booth against the window.

Riona is smiling so hard that it makes me laugh. I’ve never seen her so cheerful.

“You’ve got to tell me what’s going on,” I say. “The suspense is killing me.”

“I bought an office,” she says.

That is not what I expected her to say.

“What do you mean?”

“Look,” she pushes the paper toward me. I unfurl it, smoothing out the edges so I can see the printed image. I see a brick building with large, square windows. It looks familiar, though I’m not sure why.