Chapter Twenty-Three
sam
Pascal poked his head through the door like a spy in a sitcom.
“Naomi’s here for you,” he whispered dramatically. “Should I stall with coffee or make an excuse?” I smiled. “It’s fine. Let her in.” Naomi stepped into my office with a caution I hadn’t seen on her before. She looked less like the Head of Legal and more like just my sister.
Which is bizarre.
Her blazer was perfectly tailored, her expression perfectly unreadable. But I caught the faint trace of a smile beneath all that polish. She shut the door behind her. “You okay?” she asked, no preamble, no sarcasm. I blinked. “Define ‘okay.’”
She gave me a look. “Well, Jones kind of proposed in front of a dozen executives, our dad tried to turn it into a press headline, and now HR and Legal are probably running emergency drills in case one of you accidentally announces a wedding date. So are you, okay?”
I snorted. “Yeah, that sums it up. Nope, I’m not okay.
” Naomi sat in the chair across from my desk and crossed one leg over the other, like we were back in the living room at our childhood house, talking late into the night with wine and whispered secrets.
“For what it’s worth,” she said, “you handled it well.”
“By turning the color of a tomato and forgetting how to blink?”
“You didn’t run.” Her voice softened. “That’s progress.” There was a pause. A kind of quiet that felt like a mutual breath. I leaned back in my chair. “I didn’t expect him to say that. At all.”
“Did you expect him to care that much?” Naomi asked, but there wasn’t judgment in her tone, just curiosity.
I hesitated. “I think… I hoped.” She nodded slowly.
“I know we’re not always the warmest family, Samantha.
But I see the way he looks at you. I don’t think this is some reckless fling.
” That surprised me. Not the observation, well, that too, but also the gentleness in her saying it.
“I always thought you hated him,” I said.
“I don’t hate him. I hated the idea of you being the CEO’s secret.
Or worse, a scandal for us all. That’s part of both my jobs.
Older sister and Head of Legal.” Her voice faltered just a little.
“But I don’t want you to be alone in this company, or this family, just because it’s easier for everyone else. ”
And there it was. I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. “Thank you. I really appreciate that.”
Naomi gave me a small smile. “Just don’t make me be your maid of honor.” I laughed. “No worries on that one.” She stood, smoothing down her skirt. “Come to lunch with me next week? Just us?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that.” As she walked out, I felt the weight of years begin to shift, just slightly. The distance that had grown between us wasn’t gone, but maybe, just maybe, we were building a bridge back to something worth keeping.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind Naomi, I reached for my phone and fired off a text to Rose.
Me: You are NOT going to believe the last 20 minutes of my life.
The typing dots popped up immediately. Of course they did.
Rose: Tell me you didn’t elope with Mr. tall, broody every touch layered in memory and hope and the kind of ache that didn’t just belong to lust. His voice was quiet. Rough. “I love you, Samantha.” I smiled, forehead against his. “I love you too.”
We moved together until nothing else existed but the heat between us and the sound of water lapping gently against porcelain.
Afterward, I curled into him, our skin damp and warm, our breath tangled in the quiet. “I like this version of us,” I murmured.
His arms wrapped tighter around me. “So do I.”
I woke to the scent of something warm and buttery drifting in from the kitchen, sunlight spilling across the hardwood floors like it belonged there, like I did too.
My body still hummed from last night, from the way Theo had held me like I was something rare. Something he didn’t want to let go of. Padding into the kitchen wearing one of his button-down shirts, unbuttoned just enough to be a little bit teasing.
I found him standing barefoot, hair a mess, flipping something golden in a pan. He looked over his shoulder and grinned like I was the sunrise. “You’re awake.”
“You’re cooking,” I teased. “Again.”
“I’m proving I’m a man of many talents.”
“I’ve... seen your talents.” He laughed, low and rough, and handed me a mug of coffee without asking how I take it. He knew now. And maybe that’s what hit me hardest. The way he was already folded into my mornings, my rhythms.
“You okay?” he asked after a beat, eyes meeting mine over the rim of his mug. I nodded, then leaned against the counter, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. “I think I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop. But it’s the morning. You’re here. I’m here. We’re… good.”
Theo stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “You don’t have to keep waiting for things to fall apart. We get to be good.”
God, I wanted to believe that. “I think I’m starting to accept that,” I said quietly.
He kissed my forehead. “You don’t have to rush into believing in us.
Let’s take it slow.” I kissed him back, light, sweet, barely there.
“You’re making it very easy to believe. But we’re definitely not taking it slow.
” We laughed and ate breakfast standing up, stealing bites off each other’s plates and arguing about which pastry place in the city was better.
He let me win. I let him think I didn’t notice.
And as I got dressed for the office, watching him move around our apartment, our home, I realized something.
This felt like the beginning of a forever I hadn’t dared to imagine before.