“You’re right. I would have given up everything to be with you,” he whispers, his breath tickling my lips. “I would have done it then, and I’d do it now, and I wouldn’t regret it for one single second. You’re worth far more than a job, Scarlett. I wish you had let me show you that.”

And just like that, the weight of it is gone. I hadn’t even realized how much I was carrying until he took it from me. Maybe it really is going to be okay.

Ryan folds me into a hug, cradling my shoulders with one long arm and my head with another, his fingers weaving into my hair and holding my head against his chest. He smells so good, like almonds and vanilla and paper. And that’s what does me in, that scent that feels at once so old and so new, like one chapter into the next. I clutch at his back as I wrap my arms around him and let go of every tear I had been holding back. He just holds me through it all.

By the time I’ve let it out, the sun has almost dipped behind his building. Everything is golden and beautiful and warm. I tip my head up to look at Ryan, and even though I must look like a goblin, he smiles down at me and rubs a gentle thumb against my cheek.

“I have to admit, this is a plot twist I didn’t see coming.” He purses his lips against a smile.

“Ryan Whitlock,” I say on a disbelieving laugh. “Was that a pun?”

“I thought you’d appreciate the dark humor.”

If only he knew how much. This is the furthest thing from funny, but if he can joke about it, maybe there’s hope for us. For me.

“But that’s all it is. Just a plot twist,” he continues. He kisses my forehead. One of his hands snakes its way into my hair again so his fingers can massage the nape of my neck reassuringly. “I spent five years without you, Scarlett. I’m not letting you go again. We can both be sad about this and still love each other. We can talk about babies…” He raises a questioning eyebrow but laughs at the face I make. “Or not yet. There’s space and time for all of that and more, if you’ll only stop running away from me.”

Filling my lungs with the spring air, I let the mix of sharp, cut grass and delicate, new flowers reawaken something inside me. Something new, reborn, perfectly symbolic. It was winter, and now it’s spring. Everything is starting over, both new and cyclical. Even me. Even us.

“You still love me?” I ask.

A soft smile tugs at his lips, and he shakes his head slowly. “Love isn’t a strong enough word.”