Page 159 of The Girlfriend Zone

Then, he hops over the counter. Hops! Cups my cheeks, drops his mouth to mine and kisses me soft and tender, like he’s been counting down the seconds till he saw me again.

I feel the same way. When he breaks the kiss, I wobble. My knees are weak and I’m melting but he steadies me, looping an arm around me.

“On the plane, I told your dad I learned it. I told him I’ll fight for you. And then he told me to fix everything with you,” he says, then grins. “Did it work?”

I laugh, then grab his face and pull him closer. “It worked, Miles. It definitely worked. Everything worked.” I feel like I’m floating as I kiss him again, but I still have so many questions. Like this one. “Are you being traded? Because I’ll stay with you even if you’re traded. We canmake it work. Long distance. Anything. I’ll make it work with you.” And that’s the most vulnerable thing I’ve ever said in my whole life, but I mean it completely. It feels good and right to say those words to him.

He shakes his head, that grin never leaving his face. “Nope. Chicago called but Coach said I was too valuable. I don’t think I’ll be captain, but I don’t care. Want to know why?”

“Why?” I ask, and I should be sad but I can’t be when he’s so happy.

“Because I got you,” he says, then he kisses me once again, making my head swim with happiness. When he lets go, he takes a step back and signs—not fast, not perfectly, but clear nonetheless—Come home with me. Then he says, “Move in for real. Tonight. And don’t ever leave.”

This man. This love. This night. “You had me at ‘I’ve got this,’” I say. Those were the first words he ever said to me when he held open the door to this shop.

He takes my hand and we go, the twinkling lights illuminating the way.

But we make a pit stop at the apartment and toss the rest of my things in grocery bags first. I won’t miss this place one bit. As we slide back into his car, my belongings in tow, I feel like it’s the getaway vehicle and we’ve made our great escape into our happily ever after. As we go, I have so many questions about him learning ASL. Where? How? Who was the teacher? He tells me he took a class through a local university from a funny, sarcastic deaf teacher named Daya, who promised she’d keep the secret that he was learning it.

“You should meet her someday. And the other students—they’re mostly deaf. They had to keep it a secrettoo,” he tells me. “Which means that’s one of the first words I learned to sign.”

I laugh, then laugh again when he takes his right hand off the wheel to tap his thumb twice against his lips, right as I’m doing the same.

But we’re no longer a secret, and that feels so good.

We cruise through the city, the lights of the Golden Gate Bridge calling us home. Soon, we’re pulling into his garage and heading inside.

Home, I sign, feeling it deep in my soul.

You’re home, he signs, then he scoops me up, tosses me over his shoulder, and carries me up the stairs.

And he shows me how much he’s missed me in those twenty-four hours, kissing every inch of my body, touching me everywhere, driving me wild, then fucking me like I’m the love of his life.

When we’re naked and sated, lying there in bed, he traces the locket with his finger.

“Open it,” I say, and now I’m the one with the secret.

His eyes glint as he flicks it open. A wicked smile crosses his face as he gazes at the photo I’ve put in it. A shot of our first kiss.

The start of our story.

EPILOGUE: YOU AND ME

Miles

As Leighton comes down the stairs, I finish making her Jasmine Downy Pearls and set a steaming mug on the counter. She’s still on the phone, wrapping up her call.

“I’ll have the calendar proofs to you later this morning.” A pause. “Yes, it looks incredible. I think you’ll be thrilled.” Another pause. “We can look at them together. And Melissa has her sweet and sexy cookies for you.”

With a laugh, she says goodbye and heads over to the counter, eyeing the mug. “Well, aren’t you the perfect man?”

“Fact,” I say.

She smiles, takes a sip, and sighs happily. “There’s only one thing that would make this better.”

“I know,” I say, “but you’ll have to wait till tomorrow. He’s coming then.”

She pouts. “I can’t wait.”

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