When he pulled back, he stroked my hair. “I know this is sudden but life’s too short and too precarious to waste any more time. Let’s live together, Miranda. I want you to move out of your room at The New Yorker and live with me.”
I smiled, imagining waking up with Beckett every morning.
I kissed him again and then we lay back in each other’s arms, watching the stars overhead. The past year had been tumultuous for us both, filled with loss, pain and a very slow recovery, but it seemed that we both had finally found what we needed, in each other’s arms.
THE END