For a moment, we just stare at each other. Then Justin takes a deep breath.
“I had this whole speech worked out on the way over here,” he admits, “about the holes in the doughnuts and the hole in my heart, but then once I rang the bell I realized how utterly stupid that was, so I’ll just say this: I totally fucked up, Natalie. I should have listened to you when you tried to explain what was going on, why you did what you did with Lucinda. I’m so sorry.” He holds out the doughnuts, an offering. “Can we try again?”
I bite my lip, not entirely sure what’s more tempting—the dozen piping-hot Krispy Kremes, or the gorgeous man presenting them on my doorstep like a glass slipper in a fairytale. All I want to do is leap into his arms, but something—all those unanswered phone calls, maybe, all those lonely nights at home—stops me. “You should have listened to me,” I agree quietly. “I wasn’t trying to manipulate you or our relationship. I cared about you—I care about you—way too much for that. All I was trying to do was save the newspaper.”
“I know,” he says immediately. “I know that now, and I’m so sorry. I’m bowled over by you, Natalie. Your brains, your talent, your creativity—how incredibly beautiful you are. When I thought that what we had maybe wasn’t real—I just panicked. But I’ll make it up to you, if you’ll let me. However long it takes.”
“It might not take too long,” I tell him, my heart melting. Because seriously, as apologies go, this is pretty freaking epic. “Maybe a night or two, depending on your skills in bed.”
“Fair enough,” he grins. Damn, I’ve missed that smile. “I’ll have to do my best.”
Justin sets the doughnuts down and takes a step towards me, closing the space between us. “Does that mean . . . we’re going to be OK?”
“Yes,” I tell him, unable to keep the smile from my face. “We’re going to be more than OK.”
He kisses me, standing there in broad daylight on my parents’ cracked, crooked front steps, lifting me off my feet and holding me tight like we’re the only two people on Earth. It feels like the first day of summer. It feels like coming home after a long trip.
It goes on so long that eventually Mr. Vittorio across the street breaks into applause. Justin and I break apart, laughing. “Hold that thought,” I tell him breathlessly, my heart singing in my chest.
“I’d rather hold you,” he says, hugging me close.
I grin. “Me too. But first . . .”
I pull him inside after me. The dining room is just as chaotic as it was when I left it, but they all fall silent as the sight of us.
Except Joanie. “Justin!” she crows. “Did you come to congratulate us?!”
“Uh, of course.” Justin offers my brother a handshake, and accepts the plate of chicken my dad stuffs into his hands. Only my mom isn’t smiling. “Natalie,” she says—quietly, but in a voice that leaves no room for argument. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”
I leave Justin and follow her into the kitchen, where, in true mom fashion, she wastes no time getting directly to the heart of the matter: “Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asks, looking at me worriedly. “I get the romance of it, sweetheart—and of course I think Justin is wonderful—but I worry about you putting your career on the line again for the sake of a man. What if it all goes wrong again? What about your job?”
I take a deep breath. “Mom,” I tell her gently. “You’re my role model, and the woman I want to be like. But I’m not you. I know you have regrets about the choices you made—”
“Not regrets—” she protests.
“I know you gave up your career for the sake of having a husband and a family,” I tell her. “And that’s OK. But it’s not going to be like that with Justin. I don’t want to have to choose, and I won’t have to. He supports my work, and that’s one of the really great things about him. I’m not giving anything up.”
My mom seems to think about that for a moment. “I know I raised you to have a good head on your shoulders,” she says finally. “I trust your judgement. And if you’re happy, then I’m happy, too.”
I grin at her, I can’t help it. “I’m happy, Mom,” I tell her, wrapping her in a hug and squeezing tightly. “I’m really, really happy.”
Back in the dining room, I pull Justin away from Joanie, who’s got him trapped at the table while she shows him her “Bridezilla LOL” Pinterest board and my brother looks on with vague trepidation. “Everything OK?” Justin murmurs in my ear.
“Everything’s great,” I promise, and for the first time since our disastrous weekend in the Hamptons, it feels true.
Justin smiles. “In that case,” he says, “can I steal you away for a bit?”
I raise my eyebrows, intrigued by the mischievous look in his eye. “Always,” I tell him, lacing our fingers together and squeezing. “Let’s go.”
“Justin,” I laugh forty-five minutes later, as he tugs me through the darkened corridors of the Gazette building. “If you had work you wanted me to do, you could have just said so.”
“Oh, you’re hilarious.” Justin squeezes my hand before pushing open the heavy steel door that leads up to the roof. I’m fully expecting the alarm to go off, and when it doesn’t, I look at him in surprise. “I know a guy,” he explains with a grin.
“Yeah, I bet.” I don’t have time to say anything else, though, because Justin is ushering me out onto the roof and I can’t believe what I’m seeing. The empty, desolate space has been completely transformed: twinkle lights glow warmly around the perimeter, and champagne chills in a bucket beside a double-wide wooden lounge chair. A small fire crackles merrily inside a stainless steel fire pit. And in the middle of it all sits a giant, museum-grade telescope.
“Justin,” I breathe, “what did you do?”
“I thought . . . that since the heavens brought us together, we should do a little star-gazing of our own.”
I laugh. It’s perfect!
“I had some help,” he admits with a smile. “Charlie and Luce thought I was an idiot for letting you go and were more than happy to help with a plan to get you back.”
“They’re a smart pair,” I tease gently, lifting my face for a kiss. I can’t keep my hands off him now, like we’re making up for lost time.
He guides me over to the telescope, and I peer through it and up at the starry sky above. “I have absolutely no idea what I’m seeing,” I finally admit, stepping back with a laugh.
“Me either,” he grins, right at me. “But I know I like it.” He pauses. “I know I love it,” he adds, his eyes on me.
He kisses me again, and we tumble backwards onto the chaise in a tangle of limbs. Justin tugs me down on top of him and threads his fingers through my hair. “I missed you,” he murmurs into my mouth, palms already sliding up underneath my sweater. “Jesus, Natalie, I missed you so much.” Goosebumps spring up on my skin as his knuckles brush over my stomach. He dips his fingertips under the cup of my lacy bra, circling my nipple, and I gasp.
“Please,” I beg raggedly, reaching down between us to work the button on his jeans. He’s already hard, hot and heavy in my hand. Justin groans quietly, the sound of it dense with desire, and I roll us over, wanting to feel his weight. “Please.”
“I’m here,” he promises, tugging my zipper down and rubbing teasingly with two fingers, then pulling back and lining himself up before sinking deep inside me all at once. I can’t hold back a moan at the hot, delicious stretch of him, my entire body on fire as his tongue slicks lazily over the pulse point in my neck.
Justin gathers my wrists and pushes them up over my head, pinning me in place as he moves inside me. His growl of desire echoes densely in my ear. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper; the last thing I see before I close my eyes and give myself over to pleasure is the stars winking steadily up above.