Page 134 of When Hearts Ignite

I chatted with my father for two hours, where he asked me about my upbringing, his face falling when he learned of our financial troubles, his jaw clenching when he deduced the assholes Mom dated in the past, including Carl, the shock registering when I told him about my brief stint at The Orchid.

It was inevitable our paths would eventually cross, even if I didn’t search for him. It’s like he’s standing at the center of concentric circles and I’m slowly removing the larger circles one by one, whether it be my relationship with Steven, who would’ve brought me closer to the Andersons, or my friendship with Belle or Millie, who both have families and connections to The Orchid.

It was inevitable. Fated.

While our conversation was heavy, and the old ache resurfaces, something that was temporarily forgotten when I’m basking in Steven’s love, it was also freeing. Cathartic. It’s the final shackles around my heart breaking open.

And now, as I step on the street after I leave my father sitting in his garden, heartbreak shining in his slate-colored eyes, I glance back at the towering mansion, the tall spires and impressive silhouette blocking off most of the sunlight, casting a dark shadow on the front lawns. A chill sweeps through me from a sudden breeze, and I think of the lonely man in his garden, surrounded by his abundant wealth and yet seemingly bereft, and I let out a wistful sigh.

My heart lightens when I walk away, thinking of Steven, feeling thankful for the twist in fate letting us have our happy ending.

I take a deep inhale as I stroll on the grounds of Central Park, smelling the sweet scent of wildflowers, something I tended not to notice when I was here in the past, hurrying from one location to another, and I let out a ragged, restorative sigh.

A smile appears on my lips as I stroll toward the bench where Steven and I ate the infamous street dog, where he also asked me to meet him tonight.

The skies are clear tonight; the sunset washing the canvas in a swath of reds, golds, and oranges, with a deep, mesmerizing blue slowly creeping in. The prima donna of the evening sky. I can see the faint stars, the backup dancers to the setting sun, twinkling in the backdrop, eager to make an appearance once the starlet disappears, hoping for their place and time to shine.

I hum a melody under my breath, “You’re My Stars,” thinking how much my life has changed since I heard Steven sing this song all those months ago, and I twirl on the path, swaying past the street musician setting up his saxophone under the ornate stone bridge, past the small crowds of pedestrians strolling to their next destination.

My eyes close as I let my hands fly. I can feel the warm air against my face as I spin, spin, and spin, the night feeling as magical as the one on the High Line, which feels so long ago.

Magic is in the air. I can feel it.

I smile.

“It looks like the conversation with Linus went well,” my favorite, sardonic voice speaks from behind me.

Steven.

My heart leaps and flutters as my feet slide in the dirt, which is still soft from the rain a few days ago. His hand reaches out, his arm curling me tight against him, as if he anticipated my wobble.

“You know, if you don’t balance well, you probably shouldn’t twirl in public.” He unleashes a sexy grin, his eyes twinkling with laughter as he tilts me back and stares down at me, looking exactly like a hero from my newest regency romance novel I began last night.

Dark hair. Piercing eyes. Strong jaw. Dashing attire.

“You surprised me, that’s all. As you know, I can be an accomplished dancer when I put my mind to it.” I wink.

He laughs, the smile transforming his entire face, rendering him to a level of handsome I can’t begin to describe.

My lungs seize and I gnaw on my bottom lip, the swarm of butterflies flapping their wings harder inside me, threatening to break free.

I think I’ll never stop reacting to him this way. It’s like—

“Every time we’re apart, our hearts are seeking its other half, and when we’re together, we’re made whole again,” he completes my thought, his gaze darkening, his voice gentle. I hadn’t realized I spoke my sentiments aloud.

“And our bodies know.” I breathe out, my hands clutching the lapels of his sleek, gray suit, the very one I saw him wearing on stage at Lunasia.

Sultry strains of music echo under the bridge, traveling to where we’re standing, his arm still curling around me in a half dip. The soulful sounds of the saxophone fill the air.

A familiar melody, one that’ll make me smile and cry at the same time.

“You’re My Stars.”

Steven laughs, his voice husky, and pulls me upright. He steps back before bowing, one hand extended toward me. “My darling, may I have this dance?”

My eyes flutter to his, finding a twinkle gleaming in his eyes.

He remembered. He noticed my wistful staring at the couples dancing with their partners the last time we were here, and now, he’s gifting me that same experience.

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