Page 109 of Tender Offer
“You didn’t.”
“And did.” I snort at his animated attempt to mock Kojo. He interlaces our fingers, all signs of laughter erased from his face. “I’ll always come for you, Puff. I love you.”
“I love you too.” Our kiss lingers until I remember the cupcake softening in my hand. “This is for you. I don’t have a candle, but you should make a wish.”
Cognac eyes slide over me with a softness he pairs with a forehead kiss. “I told you, it already came true. I have everything I need.”
“Almost,” I say to the frown lines on his forehead. “I accept your tender offer.” My squeal at my heels leaving the ground scares the birds out of the trees.
Preston picks me up like I’m weightless and crushes me into his polo shirt. I wrap my legs around the waist of his jeans and settle in the adoration of his gaze.
“Do you mean it?”
“Ti amerò fino al giorno dopo per sempre,” I repeat after weeks of practice when missing him became too much.
His grin is wild and free. “I will love you until the day after forever.”
Epilogue
Madison
Three Years Later
“Dear God, this is divine.” Justice takes another bite of gelato and tips her face to the cloudless sky. She draws in a deep breath and grins, her black natural curls pineappled on top of her head.
She’s in pure bliss, and she’s only called her and Terrence’s mothers, who are watching their kids, twice since we started our walking tour. It’s their first trip out of the country without Edie and Gracie, their three-year-old twins, or Mattan, who’s a little over six months.
I was pregnant with Alessandro at the same time she was carrying her son. Our little guy is almost a year old, and he’s a ball of energy. He’s having the time of his life in Breaux Bridge with his grandparents and cousins. For the record, I’ve required proof of life every hour.
“This was a good call,” Justice says to the cone of caramel, raspberry, and vanilla gelato she’s about to French-kiss. A blueberry cheesecake macaroon is the crown jewel, and she devours it with a shimmy.
I lick the salted caramel that’s pooling at the top of my waffle cone, grateful that my aviator sunglasses and the maze of nineteenth century buildings provide some shelter from the sun. “Is there anything else you wanted to see?”
“Oh, I think we’re good for today,” she laughs. “Em and Kojo are on their way. Thank you for abandoning your heels. I had fun.”
“Only for you, but let’s not make a habit out of it,” I chuckle. My platform slip-on oxfords style well with my marigold spaghetti-strap summer dress, and they didn’t decimate my feet after three hours of walking.
We lost Emma and Kojo half an hour into the day. They headed off to the Passage du Havre to shop, then detoured to a spa. Jay and I sampled food and wine in Montmartre, which turned into lunch and a stroll to Moulin Rouge.
Everyone—Terrence and Miles included—is in Paris to celebrate Justice and T’s sixteenth wedding anniversary. Preston and I didn’t have to travel far, as we made the City of Love our permanent home two years ago.
The four-bedroom single-family house we bought in the sixteenth arrondissement, with a garden and a private alley, was only one of life’s changes. Justice is now a close friend. Emma too, believe it or not.
Therapy equipped me with the tools to heal myself and the relationships in need of repair. Reconciliation was not without honest conversations, acknowledgment, apology, and forgiveness. What took the deepest work was freeing myself of the things that no longer served me.
Fear.
Guilt.
Resentment.
All of it had to go so I could receive this version of my life, a version I never knew was possible. It’s soul work in constant progress.
“I’m glad we spent the day together,” Justice says, her face spread into a smile.
“Me too.” I pull her into a side hug, careful to not get what’s left of my cone on her two-piece jumpsuit. “Blush is your color.”
She twirls her Tinker Bell shape and lifts a tennis shoe. “I have a damn good stylist.”
