But it’s his lips I zero in on.

Those soft, wonderful lips I want on me again.

He closes the distance, and I have to go first, so as soon as he reaches me I say, “I want a do-over. I want a new beginning. I want the chance to say yes to us. It’s only been two days, and I miss you like crazy, and I can’t stand not having an excuse to see you. I want us to explore park benches and abandoned subways, and visit the Met, and kiss in the Great Hall, and go to costume parties dressed like Marilyn Monroe and Joe DiMaggio.” I draw a quick breath, then say the hardest and the easiest words. “Because I love you, Flynn Parker.”

He laughs and wraps his arms around me, rubbing his hands on my back. “Well, it’s good to see you too.” He’s grinning from ear to ear, and his eyes dance with happiness.

“I want to be with you,” I say, blurting it all out, everything. “I want to have a go at it if you’ll have me. I want to do all the things in New York with you, and you can quote poetry to me and show me pineapple math, and we won’t have to pretend we need to fact-check anything, and I can take you to the gin joint in Chelsea tomorrow night if you want.”

Smiling, he tugs me closer, aligning his body with mine. “So you can get me drunk?”

“Drunk and naked,” I say, giggling, and I’m not a giggler. But right now, I’m so damn happy even though he hasn’t said “I love you” back yet. But I’m not worried because I know he will.

This certainty—it’s worth every chance.

It’s worth the world.

He lifts his hand and runs his fingers across my barrette and over my hair. When he brushes the back of his fingers along my cheek, I melt. Cupping my face, he meets my gaze, holds it, and presses one soft kiss to my lips.

I think I’m going to die of happiness.

He breaks the kiss. “I’m madly in love with you too, Sabrina.”

Okay, now it’s official. I’m not dying. I’ve died, and I’ve gone to heaven, only better, because I’m alive, and my life is incandescent.

It’s starlight, and fireworks, and all the diamonds in the night sky.

He runs a finger over my lips. “But what made you change your mind?”

I don’t think. I don’t contemplate. I tell him the simple truth. “I missed you so much it hurt. And I want you. All of you, because you’re worth it to me.”

“You’re worth everything to me. You need to know that. I know I shouldn’t have offered you a job, and I also know there’s not much I can give you that you’ll let me give,” he says, and I smile stubbornly, nodding in acknowledgment. “But I can be there for you. Let me give you the support you need. Let me help you as you look for whatever you want next in your career. If you need an introduction to someone, I’ll do that. If you need me to get you a massage or give you a massage, I’ll do that. If you want someone to cook you dinner while you talk about your day, I’m your man. But that’s not all I can do,” he says, and mischief plays in his eyes.