Page 50 of The Ex-Girlfriend Agreement

The kiss deepens, his arms tightening around my waist as mine wind around his neck. I pour everything into it—all the apologies I still need to make, all the promises I intend to keep, all the love I've tried so hard to deny. When we finally break apart, both breathing heavily, I'm vaguely aware of cheers and applause from our audience, but it feels distant, unimportant compared to the man holding me.

"So," Dean says, his forehead resting against mine, "what happens now?"

It's the question that's haunted me for days, the one I couldn't answer this morning. But somehow, here in his arms, it doesn't seem so insurmountable anymore.

"Now we figure it out together," I tell him. "Day by day, decision by decision. But together."

His smile widens, becoming the full, unreserved expression that I've missed so much. "Together," he agrees. "I like the sound of that."

Our fingers brush as he takes my hand, and I feel a spark—static from the dry airport air, perhaps, but it jolts me nonetheless. A reminder that some connections never truly fade, no matter how hard we try to ignore them.

"Let's go home," I say, a new certainty settling over me like a warm blanket.

Dean raises an eyebrow. "Which home? New York? Colorado?"

I smile, squeezing his hand. "Whichever one we're in together."

As we walk out of the airport, hand in hand, I know there are still challenges ahead—logistics to navigate, compromises to make, fears to overcome. But for the first time, I'm not running from them. I'm running toward them, with Dean by my side.

And that makes all the difference.

EIGHTEEN

Dean

If someone had toldme this morning that I'd be heading back to the resort with Brooke instead of boarding a plane to Denver, I'd have called them delusional. Yet here we are, sitting in the back of a taxi, her hand in mine, the airport receding in the distance behind us. I'm still trying to process what just happened—Brooke Callahan, queen of practicality and careful planning, making a public declaration of love worthy of a rom-com finale. The same woman who hours ago suggested we "just be friends" just chased me down at an airport to tell me she loves me in front of a crowd of strangers. It would be funny if it weren't so damn beautiful.

She sits beside me now, her head resting on my shoulder, her fingers intertwined with mine. There's a new steadiness to her, a certainty I haven't seen before. Whatever internal battle she's been fighting seems resolved, at least for now.

"I can't believe you were actually going to leave," she says quietly, breaking the comfortable silence that's settled between us.

"I can't believe you actually came after me." I press a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo. "That wasn't very practical of you, Callahan."

She laughs softly, the sound vibrating against my shoulder. "Turns out I'm tired of being practical all the time. It's exhausting."

"And terrifying," I add, understanding more than she might realize. "Throwing careful plans out the window for something that might not work."

Brooke lifts her head to look at me, her eyes serious now. "It will work," she says with a conviction that makes my heart swell. "I don't know exactly how yet, but we'll make it work. Together."

"Together," I echo, the word feeling right on my tongue. "That's a good start."

The taxi winds along the coastal road, the same stretch I traveled in the opposite direction just hours ago with a heart full of resignation. Now, with Brooke's hand in mine and her promise hanging between us, the vibrant colors of the island seem sharper, the scent of plumeria and sea salt more pronounced, as if my senses have reawakened along with my hope.

"What did my mom say to you?" Brooke asks suddenly. "Before you left?"

I consider how to answer, remembering Linda's pointed advice. "She told me I should make it harder for you to walk away," I admit. "That I shouldn't let you go so easily."

"She was right." Brooke's fingers tighten around mine. "I needed the push. Needed to realize what I was really losing."

"And what was that?" I need to hear her say it, need the reassurance after so many near-misses and almost moments.

Her smile is soft, a little sad but mostly determined. "Everything that matters. You. Us. A chance at the kind of love most people only dream about."

The simple honesty of her words touches something deep inside me, a place that's been bruised and guarded for too long. I lift our joined hands, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, unable to find words adequate to express what I'm feeling.

But maybe words aren't necessary. Not right now. Not when her eyes tell me everything I need to know.

The taxi pulls into the resort's circular drive, the same spot where Brooke watched me leave hours ago. As I pay the driver, I catch sight of Linda standing on the terrace, a knowing smile spreading across her face when she spots us. She raises a hand in greeting but makes no move to approach, giving us the space we need.

---