Chapter 56 Cliff Notes on Us
AMANDA
Reality settles between us the moment we break apart, our breaths still mingling in the quiet space where our mouths had just been.
The sun has slipped below the horizon now, casting the world in deep purples and fading golds, everything around us bathed in that strange, weightless stillness that only comes after something real. Something that changes you.
What the hell did I just do?
I just had sex with my sort-of-ex-husband on the edge of a goddamn cliff like some unhinged woman with a death wish and zero regard for public decency. This is not the behavior of a sane, successful woman who pays her taxes on time and considers a lint roller an emotional support object.
I scramble to untangle myself from him, suddenly hyperaware of how naked I am—emotionally, physically, existentially. My dress is a crumpled disaster, my bra has vanished into the void, and my hair feels like it’s auditioning for a “before” shot in a hair-care commercial.
“Well,” I say, forcing a bright smile as I hunt around for my underwear. “That was… something. Very therapeutic. Really worked out some tension there.”
Kade watches me with those dark eyes, not moving from where he’s sitting on the ledge. Almost predatory in the way he’s tracking my movements, like he’s a cat watching a mouse scurry around pretending it’s not being hunted.
“Amanda,” he says quietly.
“I mean, nothing like a good old-fashioned shag to really clear the air, right?” I continue, my voice getting higher and more manic as I locate my bra and try to put it on without flashing any passing aircraft.
“Very cathartic. We should probably head back now, though. It’s getting dark, and I have work tomorrow, and—”
“Amanda.”
“—there might be bears or something. Do they have bears in New Jersey? I feel like they might have bears. Or at least really aggressive raccoons, and honestly, after the day I’ve had, I’m not emotionally equipped to deal with woodland creatures.”
That’s when he stands up and walks over to me, unbothered by his state of undress or by the fact that his hand is still completely broken. He reaches out and catches both my pinkies with his, that old familiar gesture that used to drive me crazy in the best possible way.
The movement is so automatic, so muscle-memory natural, that I don’t even think to resist as he gently guides my hands up and behind my neck, effectively trapping me in place with my arms wrapped around myself.
The position is intimate, vulnerable, completely inescapable. And suddenly, I’m twenty-one again, standing in our Vegas hotel room while my new husband demonstrates his favorite way to render me helpless with nothing more than his pinkies and his stupid, perfect smile.
“There she is,” he murmurs, leaning in close enough that I can feel his breath against my lips. “My girl. Stop running.”
The nickname hits me right in the chest, soft and familiar and disarming. Because that’s what he used to call me when I’d get overwhelmed, when I’d start spiraling into panic or sarcasm or whatever defense mechanism felt safest in the moment.
“I’m not running,” I protest weakly, but we both know it’s a lie.
“You are. You’re making jokes and trying to put distance between us because what just happened scared you.” His voice is gentle and lacking in judgment. “It scared me, too.”
I blink at him, surprised by the admission. “It did?”
“It was terrifying,” he confirms. “I’ve been dreaming about having you back for eight years, and now that it’s real, I’m fucking terrified I’m going to mess it up again.”
The honesty in his voice makes my throat tight. “Kade…”
“But I’m not going anywhere,” he continues, his thumbs brushing against my wrists where our fingers are still linked. “Not this time. So you can panic and make jokes and try to convince yourself this was just some kind of temporary insanity, but nothing’s going to change.”
“What’s not going to change?”
“The fact that you’re mine.” He says it so simply, so matter-of-factly, like he’s stating the weather or the time of day. “You always have been. You always will be.”
My chest flutters at the possessive certainty in his voice. It should annoy me, this presumption that he gets to claim me like I’m some kind of territory he conquered. But instead, it makes me feel… safe. Like I don’t have to carry the weight of figuring out what comes next all by myself.
“Now,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead before releasing my hands, “I’m going to drive you home, get us cleaned up, and order us some food. Then we can figure out what comes next. Nice and slow and easy. Okay?”
I stare at him for a moment, this man who knows exactly what I need even when I don’t. “Okay.”
“Good girl.”
The ride back to my apartment is different from the ride out. Calmer. I’m pressed against his back, my arms around his waist, and instead of feeling tense and angry, I feel… settled. Like something that’s been out of place for eight years has finally clicked back where it belongs.
He drives carefully, taking his time, and I find myself relaxing into the rhythm of the bike beneath us. The city lights blur past in streaks of gold and white, and for the first time in longer than I can remember, I’m not thinking about how badly this could all go wrong.
I’m just here, in this moment, with him.
By the time we reach my building, I’m almost disappointed the ride is over.
“Come on,” he says, taking my helmet and offering me his arm. “Let’s get you taken care of.”
The elevator ride up to my floor is quiet but not uncomfortable. It’s the sort of silence that happens between people who don’t need to fill every moment with words. He follows me down the hallway to my door, and I’m suddenly nervous about him being in my space again.
“Go take a shower,” he says the moment we’re inside, like he’s reading my mind. “I’ll order food and start taking down cameras.”
“How many are there, really?” I ask, suddenly curious about the extent of his surveillance operation.
“Do you actually want to know?”
I consider this. “Probably not.”
“Smart woman. Go shower. I’ll handle everything else.”
I’m halfway to the bathroom when I pause and turn back. “Hey, Kade?”
“Yeah?”
“Actually, you can just leave the cameras.”
His smile is slow and charming. “Okay, baby doll.”
The hot water feels amazing against my skin, washing away the dust and sweat and lingering shock of our cliffside encounter. By the time I emerge, clean and wrapped in my softest robe, I can smell Thai food and hear the quiet sounds of Kade moving around my living room.
I find him on the couch, two bags of takeout on the coffee table.
His hand has been cleaned up and properly wrapped somehow, but I guess I’m not surprised given his line of work.
He looks roguishly masculine against the bright pink velvet of my sofa—all dark hair and sharp edges and dangerous energy that should clash horribly with my aggressively feminine decor but somehow doesn’t.
Instead, the contrast makes him look even more like a fallen angel who wandered into a fairy tale and decided to stay.
He looks up at me, and his expression softens. “Come here.”
I settle next to him on the couch, tucking my legs under me. He’s ordered from my favorite Thai place—pad thai with extra lime, spring rolls, the yellow curry with the peanuts and the potatoes. All my usual orders, which he shouldn’t know but obviously does.
“This feels weird,” I admit, opening the container of spring rolls.
“Weird how?”
“Normal weird. Like, this is what couples do, right? Order takeout and eat on the couch and pretend they didn’t just have sex on a cliff overlooking the Hudson River.”
He chuckles, popping a spring roll into his mouth. “Is that what couples do?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t been in one for eight years.”
The silence that follows feels thick with everything I didn’t say out loud.
“Are we…” I start, then stop.
“Amanda,” he says quietly, “as far as I’m concerned, you’re mine. That’s it. End of discussion.”
I look at him, this man who’s waltzed back into my life and turned everything upside down in the span of a few weeks.
“Let me stay with you tonight,” he says suddenly. “Don’t overthink it, don’t make it complicated. Just let me stay.”
He knows me better than I know myself. He came back for me when I didn’t even know I was waiting for him to come back.
“Tonight and every other night,” he adds quietly. “If you’ll have me.”
And maybe it’s the Thai food, or the way he’s looking at me like I’m precious, or the fact that the ring I swore I was going to throw away still sits in that shoebox under my bed. But suddenly, the answer is obvious.
“Okay,” I say simply.
His smile cracks through him like it hurts. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I lean against his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of him. “But tomorrow we’re telling Izzy and Cal. Together. I’m not dealing with their smug ‘we told you so’ faces alone.”
He laughs, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Absolutely.” He tightens his arms around me. “I love you, Amanda Steele.”
Those words slip under my skin and settle there like they never left.
“I love you, Kade Steele.”
We finish our dinner in the sort of silence that doesn’t need to be filled. And for the first time in eight years, I feel like I’m living my real life.