Head Over Feels

“We’re in,” Cammie replies.

I glance at Rad, but I already know the answer. He takes my hand, and says, “We’ll be here.” I’ve never felt so right about my decision to let him back into my life. Hearing the man I can rely on to always be there privately and publicly sound so happy to be one-half of a couple makes my heart melt.

Jackson nudges Marlow. “Since I’ll be rolling out of your bed—”

“Ew. You’re so crude, Jackson.”

“That’s why you love me.”

“I don’t love you,” she snaps. “I’m still not sure if I even like you, if I’m telling the truth.”

“Well, something keeps you sniffing around my door.”

Marlow whacks him on the arm.

Rad chuckles. “Okay, guys. I think it’s time to go. Have a good week.” Taking my hand, he leads me in the opposite direction as the four of them.

We start down the sidewalk, the warm afternoon air caressing my skin. Birds chirp happily overhead. “What do you plan on doing the rest of the day, Miss Bell?”

“Doing?” I smirk, giving him the grin I usually save for when we’re alone. “Nothing but you, Counselor.”

His arm flies into the air. “Taxi!”

Epilogue

Rad

Eight months later

I walked away.

And I couldn’t be happier.

It’s surreal how much my life has changed. A year ago, I would have been hitting the partners and board members hard with every reason I deserved that promotion.

Today, I stood in the conference room, removing myself from contention. It turns out, Bob Marché is financially bankrupt—morally too, but that’s another story.

Apparently, Bob thought that marrying his daughter off to me would give him an in with my family—and our money. Desperate times, desperate measures, I guess, since his last four movies tanked. It does help that Marlow was as unsuspecting as anyone else in the situation.

The mortgage papers he dangled in front of his daughter at the beach? Fake. A desperate attempt to make me close the deal and pop the question. I cut ties early enough to save the firm’s reputation. Thankfully.

And my heart had other plans.

Not only do I not want partner anymore but stepping away was the right thing to do. Rogers is coming off a two-billion-dollar settlement deal against a large pharmaceutical company. He wants to work long hours, all weekends, and every holiday. Good for him. He deserves the promotion and will make a great partner.

I didn’t elaborate on the new direction my life is taking or the life I’m building with my gorgeous girlfriend. Tealey’s shown me that living to work isn’t living at all. I think she saved me just in time to fix the errors of my way.

Anyway, my winning streak in court is still intact, so I’m good.

Better than good these days because I got the girl instead.

I arrive home with arms of groceries and a present or two tucked in my bags. I was able to put everything away and get a workout in before Tealey walked in the door.

“You’re home early,” she says, hanging her keys on the hook and setting her bag on the floor.

She gets more beautiful every day. I come to greet her with a kiss but find myself hanging on to her a little longer. “Light day.”

“I didn’t know attorneys had light days.” She wriggles away after another quick kiss. I’m sweaty but was hoping to take a shower with her.

Returning to the kitchen, I reply, “Normally, no, but the partners thought I might want to leave on time today.”

“Why?” Seeing the bowl of cherry tomatoes on the counter, she plucks one and pops it in her mouth. Everything she does is so fucking sexy.

I lean against the counter like I’m not about to drop a huge bomb in her lap. Grinning, I say, “I’m not going to be a partner.”

Her mouth opens to ask the question I see forming in her eyes, but then she looks up at me. “I’m sorry. I know how much that meant to you.”

“I’m not upset.” I kiss that soft spot behind her ear, sending a thrill of goose bumps over her skin. “I wanted it before I had anything else. That doesn’t hold true for me anymore.” Rubbing her back, I smile, looking at my bright-eyed girl. “I have you, and I’m pretty damn invested in our future. So tonight, we’re celebrating a different kind of victory—a big thing called getting a life. I got one because of my partnership with you, and that is worth more than a promotion at work.”

“So I’m the trade-off? A life with me or a successful career?” There’s no bitterness in her tone despite the words. She knows what she means to me because I don’t just tell her. I show her. But I don’t want her to feel guilty like she’s taking something away from me.

“There’s no competition. You’ll win every time.” I look into those baby blues, and say, “I took myself out of the running because I’ve been considering a change of careers for a while now.” Her lips twitch.