She’s become a woman fueled by a creative drive that lights her up. She cooks; I eat; we make love. Over and over. For two weeks. I don’t fully believe in karma, but somewhere, at some point, I must have done something right.

Now I have a chance to return the favor for the woman who’s become my everything. But first, there’s something I have to do for both of us. I pull out my phone and find Sam’s number.

Saint to Sam Baker: I was set to hate you. But I can’t anymore because you brought Delilah back into my life.

I’m not going to forgive you for the watch; I’m not that magnanimous. But I’m no longer going to look for you. Stay gone if that’s your wish. Or come back and ease your family’s worries.

Either way, you and I are done. Pax, Saint.

I have no idea if Samantha will get the texts. I’m not certain I care. But officially letting Sam go releases something in me as well. I feel lighter. I want that lightness for Delilah, too, and remind myself to tell her about the texts. Right now, she’s downstairs cooking and giving her staff instructions.

The doorbell rings just as I’m sliding a shirt on. I hustle to the door, buttoning my shirt as I go. Kelly is waiting on the other side. “Ronan, good to see you.”

“Hey, Saint.” He steps into the hall. “You’re looking better. Well, for an overgrown mountain.”

I top him by five inches, and he likes to give me shit for it. “Thanks, pretty boy.”

I’ve known Ronan for years. He has several restaurants, all of them with monthlong wait lists and endless accolades. His singular talent is identifying top chef talent and creating restaurants that perfectly highlight that chef’s food. A partnership with Ronan is like finding a golden ticket.

I’m nervous. I never get nervous anymore. At least, not when it comes to my career. After the first year working, I finally realized things either happen, or they don’t. No use worrying over shit you can’t control. But this is for Delilah. I know how much this means to her, and I cannot control one single thing about this dinner. I want Ronan to see the genius in her cooking. But if he can’t, then he’s a dumb ass, and we’ll find someone else. And then I’ll kick Ronan’s ass.

With that in mind, I lead Ronan into the living room, where North and his date are waiting to join us for dinner. Then I head to the kitchen.

Delilah is giving some instructions to her staff. I was intending to offer a few words of encouragement; I’m temporarily struck mute by the sight of her.