Page 142 of Meet Me in the Valley
“You’re sweet,” I grin. Then I pause—my heart dropping a little. “Wait … oh my God. I completely forgot to call you atyourmidnight. It’s already 2 a.m. there! I’m so sorry!”
His laugh is easy and forgiving. But I feel so stupid right now. How could I have forgotten the time difference?
One minute to midnight.
“Now tell me who you plan on kissing at midnight?” Logan asks, no doubt grinning over the line.
“Well,” I start with a smirk, “Audrey said she’d kiss me. But I don’t know …. maybe I’ll find some lonely shmuck to lay a fat one on.” I stifle a champagne giggle, eyes locked on the countdown screen as the numbers tick closer to zero.
“Over my dead body, minx. The only lips you’re kissing tonight aremine.”
I stop mid-step, letting out a soft gasp.
The words echo, looping in my head like I might’ve imagined them.
But I didn’t.
That’s when I feel it. The gravitational pull. The thread that, no matter what happens between us, could never break.
My eyes dart frantically through the crowd, wild with hope. I dodge between bodies, bumping shoulders, my phone clutched tight to my ear like a lifeline.
“Damn, baby. I was right,” Logan says, his voice low, full of awe. “You look gorgeous tonight. The most beautiful woman in the crowd.”
Ten. Nine. Eight.
The line goes dead.
Panic shoots through me as I spin in every direction, tears already stinging my eyes. Until suddenly … I see him.
And everything else disappears.
The man of my dreams. The love of my life. My best friend in the entire damn world.
“Logan,” I breathe. The phone slips from my hand, hitting the ground without a second thought. I couldn’t care less. Not when he’s here in a black suit, undone bow tie, messy hair, and that look in his eyes that says everything.
Seven. Six. Five.
We rush toward each other like we’ve waited a lifetime, like the universe has finally snapped the tether back into place. I collide hard with his chest, arms wrapping tight around him, my face buried in his neck, breathing in the scent I’ve missed like oxygen.
“You’re here.”
“Our time, baby. Iloveyou.”
Four. Three. Two.
“I love you,” I whisper, meaning those words with my entire soul. Tears slip free as he cups my face, breaths tangling, hearts beating out of sync but desperate to realign.
One.
And then he kisses me.
Not gently. Not carefully. But like he’s starving. Like kissing me is the only way to come back to life. His mouth claims mine with a force that undoes me completely—hot, urgent, trembling with everything we’ve held back. I melt into him, clutching his jacket like I might float away if I let go.
I don’t dare let go.
He tilts his head, deepening the kiss with a kind of hunger that’s both new and achingly familiar. And in that moment when the band plays “Auld Lang Syne” with fireworks exploding above and the crowd cheering all around us—I don’t feel the cold or the noise or the sorrow I’ve been carrying during our time apart.
All I feel is whole. Complete.
