Kismet (Happy Endings 3)

“It’s our London,” he says, and I fall in love with him even more.

Reunions are better without clothes.

A few minutes later, we’re half-naked in his flat, because who has time to get all the way undressed? There’s just something about up-against-the-wall sex, I’m learning.

In the entryway, he cages me in, hitches my leg around his hip, and buries himself inside me.

A sharp, hot blast of pleasure floods my cells. My eyes squeeze shut as exquisite agony radiates from my center, spreading everywhere. His hands grip me hard. His breath comes fast and desperate, and we scrabble to get closer as he moves. We kiss as we come back together in a collision of mouths and skin and bodies.

Soon, I’m gasping, calling out his name as he takes me over the edge then follows, joining me.

Afterward, when we straighten up and make our way to the bed, he wraps one arm around me and sweeps out the other. “And now, Jo Brennan, tell me the story of how you came to be in my bed at two in the morning on a Monday when you’re supposed to be in New York.”

Lying next to him, I begin the story of how I wrote my own ending.

“When I got off the plane in New York, my friends were waiting for me. Emerson, TJ, Nolan, and Easton. They were all there on the other side of security. I’d texted Emerson on the flight, and she’d called them. She knew I’d need to see everyone,” I say, my heart a little heavy again as I remember the weight anchored in my chest from around twelve hours ago. “We sat in the chairs by the baggage carousel, and I told them I missed them but also . . . I missed everything across the ocean here in London.”

He runs his fingers down my thigh, his eyes sparkling with joy. “Go on.”

“I’m glad you encouraged me to go. I needed to see them to know that I wasn’t craving a new job in New York. I was missing my friends. But they’re falling in love too and moving around and making changes. There’s no guarantee they’ll stay in New York, but I know I’ll be friends with them wherever they are. I had to see them to realize I don’t have to see them every day or every week to love them.”

“I’m so glad you experienced that for yourself,” he says.

“Me too.” I shrug, a little sheepishly. “Well, the last month or so has taught me that. But once New York was an option again, I had to go there to believe that this is where I belong.” I stab the mattress like it’s a map of London. “They’ll always be a part of my life, and I’ll be a part of theirs. But I met this guy here, and he’s pretty great. He even offered to go anywhere with me.”

“He sounds bloody amazing,” Heath teases.

“He is. And that’s why I’d go anywhere with him too,” I say, and my guy just smiles beautifully, saying nothing, but saying everything in his expression.

Maybe we both needed this brief time apart to embrace our togetherness. And to know how far we’d go for each other.

“So, I turned around, bought a ticket, and hopped on the next flight back here. To see you. To surprise you.”

Heath pushes up so he’s sitting too. He runs his knuckles down my cheek. “You’re the best surprise ever. I was thrilled. Flabbergasted and thrilled.”

“Good.” I grin in satisfaction. “That’s how I wanted you to feel.”

“And I want you to stay, Jo. I want you here. There’s so much more to see of London, and there’s the rest of the UK, and all of Europe. We can see everything together.”

I swallow past the knot in my throat. The knot of overwhelming emotions that tether me to this man and this city.

“We have a day off today,” I say. “Let’s start then.”

He smiles wryly. “I don’t have a library card, but do you mind if I check you out?”

I fall into his arms, laughing and happy, feeling ridiculously lucky. “I’m so glad I walked into that bar to pick up a hot Englishman for a shag.”

“And look what you got. A grumpy one who wants to make you the happiest.”

I didn’t have to ask anyone to write the ending. This is the story of our life together, and it’s only just beginning.

28

HEATH

We don’t go into HighSmith together, and we decide not to discuss our relationship with Emily. I’m not even sure there’s a need to disclose anything, especially since I won’t be working for the company for much longer.

Jo heads in first, and I work on my resignation letter on my phone at a café near the office.

When it’s done—short and grateful—I go to the office to print it out. Resigning after almost twenty years should be done in person, not in an email.