Because this isn’t just about saying yes to Joel.
It’s about saying yes to us.
To the version of me that’s wanted this all along.
To the roots that never stopped growing.
To the idea that maybe, just maybe, love has been waiting for me to stop running.
My breath hitches.
I meet his gaze, let myself get lost in it.Let myself fall.
And I nod.
CHAPTER30
Joel
Ikeep hold of her hand as we step through the entrance of the Upper Tier, past the bouncer who barely glances at me before lifting the rope.The bass from below still pulses through the floors, but up here, the sound is muffled, the air heavier.
She doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t pull back, but I feel the awareness in her grip.She’s taking in the dim lighting, the sleek black booths, the small private rooms tucked into the back.She doesn’t know what this place is.
But I do.
I know exactly what kind of things happen up here.I could feel it that first night.
It’s not just a VIP section.It’s where people disappear into booths and private rooms, where the drinks are stronger, the lights are lower, and inhibitions blur into nothing.It’s where people come when they don’t want to be seen—or when they want to bewatched.
There are assumptions about what happens up here.
I also know that’s not why I brought her.She means too much for that.
Anna’s fingers twitch slightly against mine, but she doesn’t ask about the vibe, doesn’t pull her hand away.She just keeps looking.Taking it all in.
I don’t give her time to second-guess.
Instead, I tighten my hold and lead her toward a corner booth, away from the noise, the press of bodies, the expectation hanging in the air.
She slides into the seat, and I take the spot beside her instead of across from her, close enough that my knee brushes against hers.
Her eyes meet mine, dark and unreadable.
I search her face, looking for something—hesitation, regret, the instinct to run—but it’s not there.She watches me, quiet but steady, her eyes flicking over my face like she’s trying to piece something together.
Neither of us speaks.
And maybe we don’t need to.
Because this is real.Ithasto be.
But I need to make sure.
I reach for her, brushing the backs of my fingers against her cheek, then crook my index finger to tilt her chin up.Her breath catches, her lips part just slightly, and then she moves toward me, meeting me halfway.
The kiss isn’t rushed.
It’s slow, deep—a confirmationthat rolls through every fiber of my being.