“No, we won’t.” He smiles sadly as he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out two Fun Dip packs. “For old times’ sake?”

I can’t help but laugh, and an unexpected wave of relief washes over me. “Yeah. Sure.”

I let him take my hand again and he leads me over to the large, flat boulder where we used to sit and talk and kiss for hours. He settles down next to me and hands me the cherry flavor. “Here. You like this one better than I do.”

We tear open the packages and set to work.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you actually eat one of these properly,” I muse, admiring the way he sucks the powder off the stick.

“This hot sixteen-year-old girl taught me how.” He smiles, his eyes drifting down to my mouth, watching with intense interest.

“Remember the first time we kissed? It was up here and I was eating one of these. You lied and told me you were allergic to cherry.”

“Yeah, for someone who hates lying to you, I sure seem to do it a lot, don’t I?” His gaze wanders out to the lake. “Two truths and a lie?”

“Why not.”

“Okay.” He shifts closer. “I knew I loved you since that day, sitting up here on the rocks, when you made me own up to our bet.” Locking his fingers with mine, he goes on. “I have loved you every day since then.” His golden eyes settle on me, and there’s a slight sheen to them that makes my heart ache. “I still love you, even if you don’t feel the same. Even if you never want to see me again.” He swallows hard. “What’s my lie, Piper?”

I release a shaky breath and manage to whisper, “That’s a trick question,” before pressing my lips against his with the slow, tantalizing ease that I remember of our very first kiss out here on this rock, so many years ago.

A kiss that could never be mistaken for goodbye.

Coming here now—with everything now out in the open—feels like the end of something tragically beautiful.

But it also feels like the beginning of something new. Something strong.

Maybe I’m a fool, maybe this is the point where Kyle and I are supposed to part ways and move on with our lives.

But I’m not ready to give up just yet.

“Promise me no more secrets, Kyle.”

His body heaves with the sigh of a man who has just had a thousand-pound weight lifted from his chest. “I have nothing left to hide.”

My phone chirps with an incoming text. I frown as I dig it out of my pocket. “They actually work out here now?”

Kyle points at the cell tower across the lake. Another mar on the peaceful vista.

“It’s the real estate agent. He’s in the parking lot, wondering where we are.” I sigh. I could sit out here with Kyle all afternoon, reliving our stolen moments. But this place isn’t for us anymore. It’s time we move forward. Together. I slide my hand through his. “I guess we should get back.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he murmurs, sounding equally reluctant. “But first . . .” He slips his fingers free of mine, kicks off his shoes, and begins peeling off his clothes, an impish grin on his face.

Epilogue

December

“Where did you find this caterer?” Christa asks, inspecting a piece of lettuce from her canapé with a frown. Whatever’s about to come out of her mouth next will not be complimentary.

Ashley doesn’t answer, cracking a bottle of champagne and scampering away to top off flutes, even though there are wait staff in tuxedos to do that. She knows that what Christa is actually annoyed at is the fact that Zelda, Ashley’s psychic, not only showed up to our housewarming party, but she’s perched on the couch—Eric next to her, in his chair—and offering free tarot card readings.

The party that Ashley’s been trying so desperately to plan was delayed by a few months thanks to my chaotic work schedule. At some point, it morphed into a housewarming party slash holiday party slash retirement party for my father slash engagement party for my parents slash baby shower for Lawan, who is seven months pregnant. We now have seventy people milling around in evening wear, unsure of what to toast to first, and a violinist in the corner playing modern ballads.

“Seriously, my restaurant would have done a better job with the food,” Christa mutters, holding a sizeable vegan meatball on a toothpick up as if inspecting it for hair.

“But then you’d have control over what food was being served.” I gave Ashley carte blanche over the planning, though I’m footing the bill.

“Exactly.”

I pluck the stick from her fingers and force the meatball into her mouth before she realizes what’s happening. “Just be happy she finally kicked Chad to the curb for the last time.” As expected, Chad tried to worm his way back into Ashley’s heart. It was all the conversations with Eric, through his slow typing and struggle with words, that reminded Ashley that she deserves so much more than that chump.

Christa moans her agreement.

“Good food, right?”

She glowers at me, her mouth too full to respond immediately.

I take that as my opportunity to escape, leaving her to grumble to someone else.

I pause to take in the view across the room—of my parents standing arm-in-arm, laughing and smiling—and I shake my head in wonder. I don’t remember them being like that at parties when we were growing up, but life looked so different from that angle.

What’s more shocking is that my father is having an actual conversation with Rhett, one where their jaws aren’t tense and their postures aren’t stiff.

Lawan, a petite woman with jet-black hair and large, dark eyes, stands next to my brother in an aqua-blue evening gown that accentuates her swollen belly, quietly watching the peaceful exchange with the same amount of amazement on her face as I feel.

According to my mom, my dad has been unwinding these past months, as he slowly learns to let go of Calloway Group and entrust it to me. That’s not going to happen overnight, of course. “Retirement” to Kieran Calloway really means “semi-retirement,” with a seat at big meetings as well as Monday morning calls to update him on the goings-on—mainly so he can lecture me on what I’m doing wrong.

A burst of deep laughter pulls my gaze to the left, where David and Renée are in deep conversation with Jim and his wife, Renée’s hands gesticulating wildly while telling a story.

David, beaming down at her.

He pulled me aside last week to finally admit they’ve started dating. He was sheepish about it, afraid of my reaction, I’d hazard. David, being David, assumed I hadn’t already picked up on it. But I saw it coming two months before, when his eyes would linger on her, when their closed-door meetings would last longer, when they started strolling into work together. It was one of the worst-kept secrets in CG history.

I’m happy for him, though it means facing the arduous task of shifting assistants around. Jill, Tripp’s old assistant, has swapped desks with Renée, and David is none too happy about that. He’ll adjust.

The person I’ve been most worried about in all of this is Mark, who has managed to keep his head in his job despite dragging his feet around since news broke around the office.

Though I’ve noticed him stealing frequent glances at Ashley tonight. I think I’ll be making that introduction sooner rather than later.