Epilogue #2
Julian lets out a loud, breathless laugh, clutching his chest in relief. "Ah, there he is! The grumpy bastard returns! For a second there, I thought you were replaced by a clone."
Julian stands up, grabbing his coffee and donut, and heads toward the double doors. He turns back at the threshold, giving me a bright wink. "Kara, if he ever gets soft on you again, just threaten to call me. I'll record it next time."
"Noted, Julian," I say with a small smile.
The doors click shut behind Julian, leaving Leander and me alone in the breakroom.
I look over at Leander, my hazel eyes dancing with quiet amusement. "That was almost sweet, Dr. Sartori."
"It was an operational review," Leander mutters, sliding his tablet into his coat pocket. "I have a nine o'clock consultation in OR Two."
"Go save lives," I say softly, standing up from my chair and stepping up to him.
He catches my waist, pulling me flush against his dark navy scrubs, and presses a firm, lingering kiss against my lips.
"Are we still on for dinner tonight?" he asks quietly against my cheek.
"Seven o'clock," I confirm, smiling. "Maya invited me for a late afternoon drink at the terrace restaurant near the park. I'll meet you at the apartment by six-thirty."
"Don't be late," Leander says softly, his thumb tracing my jawline one last time before he turns and steps out into the surgical hallway.
The late afternoon sun paints the city in long, warm shades of gold and amber.
At five-thirty, I step onto the glass-walled outdoor terrace of The Grand View, a high-end rooftop restaurant overlooking the central park. The air is crisp, carrying the soft rustle of autumn leaves from the trees below.
Sitting at a cozy corner table near the stone fireplace, holding a glass of white wine, is Maya.
She looks sleek and stylish in a plum blazer, her hair pulled back into her usual chic bun. When she sees me walking across the terrace, a massive, suspiciously bright grin breaks across her face.
"Kara!" Maya exclaims, standing up to give me a quick, warm hug. "Look at you! You actually left your office before six o'clock on a weekday."
"I have a dinner date at seven," I say, pulling out the chair opposite her and taking a seat. "And you sounded urgent on the phone. What's going on?"
"Can't a girl invite her best friend for a glass of sauvignon blanc without an interrogation?" Maya asks smoothly, gesturing to the waiter, who immediately sets a chilled glass of wine in front of me.
I tilt my head, my eyes scanning Maya's expression.
Her posture is too rigid. She's checked her watch twice in three minutes. She's hiding something.
"You're terrible at lying, Maya," I observe dryly, taking a small sip of wine. "What did you do?"
"I didn't do anything!" Maya protests, holding her hands up. "I am simply enjoying the sunset with my brilliant, happily-engaged-in-spirit best friend."
"Maya..." I say, my voice dropping into a warning tone.
Maya lets out a dramatic sigh, slumping slightly in her chair, though her eyes sparkle with pure excitement. "Okay, fine! But I promised I wouldn't spoil the setup."
"What setup?"
Before Maya can answer, a waiter approaches our table, carrying a small, silver tray. On the tray rests a single, sealed cream envelope tied with a navy ribbon.
The waiter sets the envelope right next to my wine glass, bows politely, and steps away.
I look at the navy ribbon, then look up at Maya.
"Open it," Maya whispers, her hands clenching together in giddy anticipation.
I untie the ribbon, slipping the heavy cardstock out of the envelope. Written in Leander's clean, precise, surgical handwriting is a single line:
Walk to the lower garden terrace. - L
I stare at the card for three seconds, my pulse giving a fast thump against my ribs.
I look across the table at Maya. "You were in on this?"
"In on it?" Maya scoffs, leaning forward with a wide grin. "Kara, three weeks ago, a six-foot-two trauma surgeon who looked like he could snap a man's neck with his bare hands walked into my law office in broad daylight."
I blink. "Leander came to your office?"
"He sat in my guest chair, looked me dead in the eye, and asked if I knew your exact ring size," Maya tells me, her voice full of delight.
"Watching a terrifying mob-born trauma chief ask a public defender for advice on cut and clarity was officially the highlight of my entire year.
Now get up and go to the lower terrace!"
My heart thumps heavily against my chest. I stand up from the table, smoothing down my cream blazer.
"Go!" Maya laughs, waving her hand. "I'll keep your wine cold!"
I walk across the polished wood floor of the main terrace, stepping down the private stone staircase leading to the lower garden terrace, a secluded, elevated garden filled with white orchids, low warm lanterns, and a panoramic view of the city skyline glowing under the twilight sky.
The garden is completely private. No restaurant guests, no waiters. Just the soft sound of a central stone fountain and the cool evening breeze.
Standing near the stone railing, looking out over the city, is Leander.
He's wearing a tailored black suit, white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his broad frame standing tall and immovable against the golden dusk.
When he hears my heels against the stone tile, he turns around.