Epilogue #3
After the dust had settled on the art heist situation, Ana and I had worked with my PR company to officially end our secretly fake relationship.
As far as the public knew, we’d split on good terms, and while there was a brief parasocial outcry, the lack of drama between us meant most bystanders quickly moved on to more salacious waters.
I was acutely aware that this left me free to be myself as well, and I intended to do exactly that—with Rowen by my side.
Since he’d left the FBI Art Crime Team to be my new consultant on the philanthropic arm of Luxford Holdings, it wasn’t newsworthy that we often appeared in public together, but I wanted the world to know about us.
One thing at a time, Giano…
I turned the phone in Rowen’s direction so he could see the photos Ana had sent. She’d come to visit a couple of times since we’d returned to New York, and the two had grown unsurprisingly close.
Thanks to extremely similar personality traits…
“You referred to your apartment as our home earlier,” he said instead of acknowledging the photos, which surprised me so greatly, I nearly dropped my phone.
“I did…” I replied, equally careful. “Do you not agree with that assessment?”
You will.
He toyed with the edge of his stolen peacoat—the one he still hadn’t returned to me. “I’ve just… I’ve never had a home before, you know? Not really.”
I resisted the nearly overwhelming urge to pull him into my arms and kiss him senseless, knowing that might make him shut down completely in this vulnerable moment.
And I want to properly savor every piece of him that he chooses to share.
“Understood,” I replied, which was the truth. “I never truly felt like my parents’ apartment was my home either. To be honest, I was counting down the days until I could sell it, but the idea of sharing it with you changes things.”
It changes everything.
Rowen gaped at me, his earlier uncertainty forgotten. “Are you nuts? Why the hell would you get rid of your evil villain’s lair? It has roof access for chrissake! We can lord over everyone in the Upper East Side…”
I chuckled warmly. “Already a textbook billionaire, I see.”
It was his turn to roll his eyes. “Good thing I’ll have you to keep me in check, baby. We both know that if it had been me getting plucked out of St. Anthony’s to live the life of luxury, I would have been an absolute fucking menace.”
Without a doubt.
“I promise, I’ll keep you in check,” I vowed, no longer able to resist leaning forward for a quick, greasy kiss. “We’re partners for the greater good now.”
“More than just partners,” he said, surprising the hell out of me.
He wants to talk about this?!
“Yes…” I replied, unsure where he was going next.
The usual when it comes to him.
“More than just fuckboy boyfriends,” he added, making me laugh. When I continued to wait patiently for him to elaborate, he huffed. “Can you just… say it already?”
“Say what?” I teased, even though I was starting to suspect.
“Cut the crap, Luxford,” he grouched, throwing the cigarette he hadn’t bothered to light over the fire escape railing, much to my delight. “You’ve been staring at me with cartoon heart-eyes for months…”
Probably since the day we met.
“Guilty as charged,” I laughed, deciding to give him a break. “So what are you looking for exactly? A love confession?”
Because I’ll confess that in a heartbeat.
“Yes,” he replied, so quietly, I almost missed it. “Jesus, Giano, I just don’t want to be the first person to say it—”
“I love you,” I said—the easiest three words I’d ever said in my entire life. “Since the day you appeared like an angel on The Skyline terrace.”
“Stop with the sentimental shit,” he mumbled, even as he shyly smiled. “I love you too. I guess…”
So ridiculous.
This time, I hauled him over the half-eaten pizza and into my lap, ignoring his faux protests until I’d kissed every freckle on his deceptively innocent face.
“For how long?” I demanded once I’d had my fill, feeling like the little boy who’d just laid eyes on Poppy #5 all over again. “When did you know you felt the same?”
That you were destined to be mine?
He squinted at me with a haughty disapproval worthy of any of our Upper East Side neighbors. “I’ll never tell.”
We’ll see about that.
I let it go for the time being, instead refocusing on our fire escape feast, our future, and all the trouble we could get into along the way—together.