Annoyed with the smirk, I fold my arms across my chest and ask, “Do you find humor in this?”

“I do. Reminds me of our early days.”

Me too.

“I was more partial to our later days.” I look away.

“Don’t get me wrong, so was I, but it’s nice to bring things full circle, don’t you think?”

“I think we need to get on with whatever presentation you might have so I can move on.”

That pisses him off, judging by the narrowing of his eyes and clenching of his jaw. Given the shift in our relationship, I didn’t think it was possible to revisit what it was like when we were first together, but I was wrong. We could very much get there.

But what I hate is that it invigorates me.

His jaw twitches as he reaches out and takes one of my hands, and this time I let him. Holding it firmly, he stares me down and simply says, “I love you.”

The words stun me.

They take my breath away.

But they also don’t feel entirely real.

“I don’t believe you,” I say. “How do I know you’re not just saying that?”

Frustration laces through his eyes as he reaches for the folder and opens it, revealing another contract. But this one is less formal. Instead of legal jargon, it looks as if he typed it up himself, and it only consists of bullet points on a single sheet of paper.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Our new contract.”

“You think I’m going to sign a new contract with you?”

His eyes flash to mine. “Cut the goddamn sass for a second and hear me out.”

“That’s one way to win me back.” I roll my eyes.

“Do I need to bend you over this table just so you knock it off?”

My body heats up and I can feel my eyes widen from the thought.

He catches it.

The intrigue.

The yearning.

The need.

“Don’t,” I say, holding up my hand as he shifts. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Then hear me out and I won’t be forced to take extreme measures.”

God, it’s annoying how commanding he is.

Domineering.

Possessive.

But I also love it. What is wrong with me?

Some of the steel leaves his eyes when he says, “I’m sorry, Lottie, for a lot of things. I’m sorry that I blamed you for something I had no right blaming you for. I’m sorry for breaking our trust. I’m sorry for not leaning on you when I should have. And most importantly, I’m sorry that I hurt you. To see you cry, see you so upset, and know I’m the one causing that pain . . . it kills me.”

And just like that, with his soothing voice, the irritation drains from me as the tension lessens in my shoulders and . . . I listen.

“I quickly realized my mistake when you started to leave. My heart leapt in my throat when you got in your sister’s car. And when I saw you drive away, I knew you’d taken a huge piece of me with you. It gutted me seeing you leave, which made me realize I love you. I love you more than I ever thought it was possible to love someone. And it hit me like a ton of bricks. I need you to be a part of my life, Lottie. I need you to be a permanent fixture. Which is why I came up with this contract.”

I don’t take it, but instead, I say, “Read it to me.”

Clearing his throat, he says, “My legal terms aren’t up to par, so don’t make fun of me.” That makes me inwardly smile. “‘This contract binds Huxley Cane and Lottie Gardner once terms are agreed to and signatures are present at the bottom.’”

“You’re right, your terminology is way off.”

“I was drawing a blank when writing this up. Bear with me.” He sets his shoulders back and reads some more. “‘The following requests must be followed by both parties. Request number one—after some careful thought and consideration, Lottie agrees to forgive Huxley for being a massive ass.’”

“I appreciate you using massive as a descriptor, because that’s what you were.”

“I was,” he agrees, and more tension eases.

“‘Request number two—after a solid make-up session, which will include whatever Lottie wants’”—I smirk at that—“‘Lottie will be required to permanently move in with Huxley, and into his bedroom, where he’s already made space in the closet for her clothes.’”

“My clothes or the personal items you picked out for me?” I ask.

“Whatever you want.”

“I prefer a mixture of both.”

“Done.” His facial expression lightens as he continues. “‘Request number three—Lottie drops all previous roles of fake fiancée and fake pregnant woman. Huxley realizes what a bad idea this was and has already cleared the air with Dave. He wants Lottie to live her best life now, free of any fake premise.’”

“Her best life?” I ask with a raised brow. He nods. “And things are cleared up with Dave? Really?”

“Yes, I spoke with him today. He wasn’t happy when I told him I’d fucked things up with you and told me I’d better get you back. I told him I intended to and that I already had dinner planned with you.”

“Dave is a smart man.” I push my hair over my shoulder, needing to busy my antsy hands.

“‘Request number four—even though the previous contract has been destroyed, Huxley is still indebted to Lottie and therefore will attend any social event to help her stick it to her old boss, but this time, he prefers to act as her real fiancé.’”

His eyes peer up at me.

Uh, did I hear that right? Real fiancé?

“‘Request number five—Lottie realizes that Huxley is a shell of a man without her. That he not only craves her in his life, but he needs her in his life. She’s become a permanent fixture and not having her in his life is non-negotiable.’ Which brings me to ‘Request number six—Lottie follows Huxley to the rooftop.’” Huxley stands and holds out his hand.

I don’t take it right away.

I’m not even sure I can with how shaky I am.

“Lottie . . .”

Mustering up some words, I say, “I’m, uh . . . I’m going to need my lawyer to look at that contract.”

His smile nearly knocks me over, it’s so brilliantly handsome, and full of joy. It propels my hand into his and guides me through the house, up the stairs, and to the rooftop. When Huxley pushes open the door, he allows me to go through first, revealing the beautiful setup.

Two wooden lounge chairs occupy the middle of the space, decorated with rose petals, and surrounded by fake candles that offer just enough light to set the scene.

“Wow,” I say, taking it all in.

The door shuts behind us, and I turn to find Huxley bent down on one knee, holding a ring box.

This can’t be real. This seriously can’t be the life I’m living right now, but when he opens his mouth and says my name in a breathless tone, I realize this is very much real.

“Lottie, I love you. You’re beautifully frustrating, annoyingly right most of the time, and you bring me more joy than I ever thought I’d be lucky enough to have. You complement my surly attitude. You put me in my place when I need it, and you listen to me when I need a listening ear. Plain and simple, you complete me, and I know for certain, I can’t live this life without you in it.” He pops open the ring box, revealing a beautiful, cushion-shaped diamond ring with diamond accents on the band. It’s different than the current ring on my finger, edgier, just like me. “I love you so goddamn much. Please, would you accept the contract, and will you also do me the honor of being my wife?”

I stare down at him, those deep, mysterious eyes piercing through me, holding me captive.

They always will.

I believe he’s had my heart from the very beginning. Even through our ups and downs, there was a connection, an unrelenting bond that drew me toward him. There’s no denying I love this man, there’s no denying I’ll always love him. He’s it for me. I realize this. But . . .

“You hurt me, Huxley.”

He stands up and quickly closes the space between us. “I know, Lottie, and I’m really fucking sorry. I can’t promise you I won’t hurt you again, because we’ll always have disagreements, but I’ll promise you this—you’re my number one, you’re the person I trust, the person I know will always be by my side, cheering for me and telling me when I’m an asshole. And I’ll do everything possible to make you happy. To make sure I never—on purpose—make you cry again.” His hand rises to my face and his thumb gently rubs across my cheek. “I love you, baby.”