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I backed out of my bedroom wearing it, so Will could pull up the zipper—a bad idea. No sooner
had he secured his fingers to the clasp than the damn thing was around my ankles and I was being
carried, naked again, kicking and screaming to my bed. “Pick up the dress, don’t leave it on the floor
like that, Will! It’ll wrinkle! That cost me a fortune!” I laughed as he collapsed on top of me, telling
me, “Fuck that dress,” while bunching his own beautifully tailored tuxedo pants down around his
ankles, sheathing himself, then entering me sharply enough to stop the giggling altogether. God, the
look in his eyes that night, burning and fierce while he drove into me again and again, my head
cradled in his strong hands; I never wanted to lose that gaze.
Yet I was also looking forward to a time when just being alone with him didn’t make me want to
rip my clothes off. I actually longed in some strange way to be a little bored by all this, for a time
when his skin brushing mine in the Café wouldn’t make me damp with desire.
It was love, yes, but it was more than that. He was my deepest, closest friend. I felt like he was the
only person on the planet (besides Matilda) who really, truly knew me. And now, moving on top of
me with the grace of a man who understood my body as well as his own, searching my face, almost
studying it, smoothing my hair back and thrusting, thrusting, my nails digging into his skin, his eyes
closing, I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. I couldn’t remember other men. He pressed my
knees back and up, pushing both our limits, mine of exquisite pain, his of pleasure, his body clenched
and straining, on the verge of another orgasm that I was giving him, while I tightened and writhed
beneath him, finding my perfect spot, until, pleasure undulating through us and over us, we finally
brought each other over the edge, calling each other’s name, both our bodies a greedy blur, and we
were left gasping and laughing—because that’s what you do when you’re utterly astonished by love.
“Holy hell, Cassie,” he said, lying beside me, clasping my hand until his breathing steadied.
I rose to take a quick shower, but he held my hand down into the bed, rolling up on an elbow next
to me.
“You know what? It’s all been worth it.”
“What’s been worth it?”
“All the bullshit of the past year, all that stuff, the lies that kept us apart. It’s been worth it. A few
weeks ago I was so fucking angry. I said to myself no more women. I wanted nothing to do with love.
I was going to take a good long break. And today, now … now I feel like I’m out of some long tunnel.
I feel light. I feel brand-new. Like my faith’s been restored.”
“Me too,” I said, pulling his face in for a kiss.
He fondled my bracelet. “I haven’t seen this on you in a while.”
“I wear it only on special occasions,” I said, letting him examine it, knowing there was nothing to
hide anymore.
“So let me get this straight—for every sort of good deed or challenge, or whatever, you get one of
these charms?” he asked, reading some of the Steps under his breath, Generosity, Bravery, Trust.
“Reminds me of Girl Scouts.”
“Ha. Sort of,” I said, sliding out of bed.
“What kind of charm do you get for having a restaurant named after you?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I’ve decided to call the new place Cassie’s. A sign’s going to be delivered tomorrow—and here,”
he said, fishing a piece of paper from his jacket, which he’d retrieved from the floor where it was
tossed with the rest of our clothes. He presented me with a folded-up prototype of the new menu,
Cassie’s printed on a pretty scroll across the top. I gasped, speechless, fat tears falling down my
cheeks.