Chapter 39
Evelyn
One Year Later
“Happy birthday, baby girl.”
I clink my cocktail glass against Jameson’s as the ocean breeze lifts my hair, strands dancing over my face, and fall even more in love with his breathtaking gaze.
His crisp white shirt has the top few buttons open, offering a glimpse at his toned chest, and the short stubble around his jaw is so perfectly shaped that I just stare at him with sultry admiration.
Tonight, when we stumble back to our suite at the Fontainebleau, buzzed from all these drinks, I expect him to tear off the little black dress I’m wearing.
We’re in a rooftop bar overlooking the gorgeous Miami skyline.
The glass high-rises shimmer with gold, glowing in the twilight sky, warm and romantic.
Soft house music plays from hidden speakers and there’s the murmur of conversation around us, the vibes chic and sophisticated.
It feels like we’re suspended in a dream, floating through the heavens.
“Here’s to being twenty-two,” I say, taking a sip of my cocktail.
“And to being granted your nursing license,” Jameson says with a proud nod.
We tap our glasses together again, for there’s so much to celebrate. There’s raw, unfiltered joy in the way I smile at him. I have news to share. Big, life-changing news that I’ve been dying to share all day, but wanted to wait until the perfect moment—and that moment is now.
“Jameson,” I say with a coy smile, leaning back in my chair and crossing one leg over the other. “Can I tell you something important?”
Jameson’s gaze travels over the exposed skin of my thigh. “Of course, baby girl. What is it?”
“So, my nursing license . . . The Florida Board of Nursing didn’t grant me it.” I pout my lips in mock dismay, wait for Jameson’s features to twist in confusion, then allow the grin I’m fighting to break out. “The Georgia board did.”
Jameson blinks at me as he registers my words. He sets his drink down and hunches forward, his elbows resting on the table. He swallows hard, and I swear there’s a nervous tremor in his hands. “That means you can only work in Georgia, Evie.”
“Well, good! Because my hot boyfriend just so happens to live in Georgia,” I say, my cheeks scorching from how hard I’m blushing, “and I’d really like to live there, too. With him. If he doesn’t mind, of course?” I arch an eyebrow hopefully and hold my breath.
When I graduated from the University of Florida in May, Jameson flew in to attend the ceremony.
Despite his many visits to Boca over the past year, my graduation was the first time he met my parents.
Dad had always been rather dismissive of my long-distance relationship with Jameson, thought he was too old for me, too far away, but the moment they finally met, Dad was immensely impressed by his credentials.
Jameson is a no-nonsense man. He’s ambitious, successful, devoted.
Most importantly, he puts me first before anything else, and that was all Dad really wanted—a man who will treat his daughter right.
If Jameson and I really want to stay together long-term, one of us needs to move.
His career is already established, whereas I have the luxury of being right at the beginning of mine, with the freedom to go anywhere I want.
Besides, Atlanta is cool—I’ve flown out to visit Jameson a handful of times, too, and I know I can be happy there.
I’ve already started applying for open nursing positions, and I have everything crossed I’ll land something soon.
“Damn, Evie,” Jameson breathes, shaking his head in disbelief.
I worry maybe I’ve blindsided him and that perhaps I should have discussed this more with him before committing—but only for a split second, because suddenly he’s rising from his chair and reaching for my hands with a dazzling, megawatt smile.
“I’d be the happiest fucking man in Atlanta if you moved in with me.
Of course I don’t mind. I want you there with me. Every single day.”
“I can’t wait for our life together to really begin,” I say, my cheeks aching from how hard I’m smiling as I get to my feet. I’m so damn happy, so full of anticipation for the future that lies ahead. “I love you so much.”
“And I love you,” Jameson breathes, taking my jaw in both his hands and tilting my face up toward his.
“Now we have even more reasons to celebrate tonight. Should we skip the round of drinks we just ordered and head back to the hotel?” He stares at my mouth, bites his lip hard, like he’s mentally undressing me already.
I hold a hand out, as if to stop him. “Only if you get me out of this dress very gently. It was expensive.”
Jameson smirks, the rose hues of Miami shining in his gaze. “I promise to be very gentle,” he says, grazing his lips over mine, “but only with your dress.”