Then Vivian gestured toward Barra. “You’re up.”
This was it. The moment it all came down to, and apparently, doing it the second time around was not easier. In fact, it was quite possibly harder. Barra felt the pressure on her shoulders like a kettlebell. But also because the pressure involved bigger things. More important things. Allie-related things and seriously, didOutlast Hereven matter at all? The only thing Barra wanted to do right now was tell Allie how much she cared about her, how much she loved her, and that she didn’t want to say goodbye. That she’d be willing to leave her life in New York if it meant they could be together.
She pushed herself off the stump and walked to the spot where she would stand in perfect view of the Final Council. Her stomach was churning. Her fingers tingled.
“Hi, everyone,” she said, her voice almost cracking. “I know I’m supposed to be up here convincing you why I deserve to win, but...” She let out a sigh so heavy it could’ve lifted the leaves littering the ground. “I don’t want to do that.”
Every member of the Final Council frowned, and Barra didn’t blame them. This was a little out of character, even for her.
“I came into this game thinking I knew what it meant to win since I’d already done it once. I thought that was what I was here for again. But I was wrong.” Barra looked back over her shoulder at Allie. “So many months ago, at that wedding in Big Sur, I ran away without thinking twice about it. At the time, you were apleasant distraction.” She remembered the way Allie had spun her on the dance floor, laughed into her shoulder, kept her thirst quenched with all those margaritas until somehow Dominique had become background noise. “And honestly, when I saw you again at the airport, I thought, oh fuck me.”
Allie laughed. Some of the Final Council did too.
“But you surprised me, Allie,” Barra went on. “Because of you, the challenges felt a little easier, and the rice tasted a little better. Because of you, I started feeling like myself again.”
Allie’s eyes were shiny with tears.
“Because of you, I got to the end of this game.” Then she turned back to the Final Council again. “Allie deserves to win,” she said. “She came in as an underdog, someone none of you wanted to pair with, someone you all underestimated. But she’s proven to be stronger than we ever gave her credit for. And anyone who would let Elodie pee on her leg for the sake of the game deserves to win.”
Barra didn’t wait for the customary questions to begin. She turned around and walked straight back to Allie, only stopping when there was half a foot between them. “You asked me last night if I’ll miss sleeping next to you,” Barra said, her voice soft. “But the answer is no... because I don’t think I’m ever sleeping without you by my side again.”
Then she did something that shocked even herself. She went down on one knee.
“I know this is insane,” she said, her breath catching as she laughed at herself. “And I know the sensible thing would be to go back to real life and figure this out slowly, like normal people. But what’s life if it isn’t a little crazy?” She reached for both of Allie’s hands. Barra’s were shaking like leaves. “I know I’m supposed to pull out a Tiffany box.”
“Stop talking and kiss me,” Allie muttered, grinning so wide her cheeks had to be aching.
“So that’s a yes?” Barra managed. “You’ll marry me?”
“It’s a hell yes!”
Epilogue
One year later
Allie was standing in the center of her gallery space in Tribeca.
Her hands were on her hips, her hair twisted into a knot on top of her head. A few strands had escaped and were matted against her temples. There was dust on the knees of her jeans, a streak of white paint across her forearm, and yet, somehow, the place was still hours away from resembling the vision in her head. A vision that had sparked like a bonfire the moment she and Barra toured the space two months ago.
Exposed brick ran the length of the walls, softened by a stream of bright afternoon light that poured in through oversized factory windows. The windows faced a narrow cobblestone street where delivery trucks idled and people walked past without looking up. It had been a garment factory in the early 1900s—both Allie and Barra had loved that detail—and when she looked up, she could still see the iron beams and the original pulley tracks.
Now it was a gallery, mostly ready for its first exhibition two days from now.
“Max, I said align the plinths to the grid line.”
Max, who was cradling a large plinth made from reclaimed oak, sighed dramatically. Allie’s assistant, Dee, had called him in as a last-minute favor after coming down with strep. Max had happily agreed to spend his afternoon helping Allie get the gallery ready. She was paying him, of course, but she alsoknew he had saved her from a full opening-week disaster. Their rhythm had clicked almost immediately, with Max slipping into the role of a younger brother and Allie trusting him far faster than she usually trusted anyone she’d only known for a day. “Move it two more inches,” Allie said, ignoring his dramatics.
Max groaned with a smile, but did it anyway.
The plinths would hold the ceramic pieces by Saskia Bloom, each of which was obviously inspired by naked female bodies: hips, breasts, folds. Then, along the far wall, were paintings by Mara Vescovi and Julia Saint, also unapologetically nude.
Everything was intentional. Nothing was supposed to feel static. This was New York City, for goodness’ sake. Here she couldn’t get away with exhibiting dramatic oceanscapes by newbie artists. Here, everything had to feel intimidating. Which meant, of course, that Allie was currently obsessing over every tiny detail.
Allie bit her lip. “Okay, you were right. Take it back to where—”
But she didn’t finish her sentence because warm breath suddenly landed on the back of her neck. Every single hair on her body lifted at once. Allie shuddered, then leaned back without thinking twice. Barra’s arms folded around her.
“The space looks amazing,” she whispered into the side of Allie’s neck. Then she planted a delicious, wet kiss just behind Allie’s ear, a spot filled with so many nerve endings, Allie would’ve moaned out loud if it wasn’t for Max.