“People say women can do it all, a career and a family, and it’s a pretty picture, but it’s not for me,” she adds. “There are plenty of women who make it work, and I salute them. My own mother worked a factory job my entire childhood, then came home and cooked dinner and read us bedtime stories. I don’t know how she did it.” Her breath hitches. “She passed away recently. I wish I’d asked her what kept her going all those years.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.”

She picks the picture up and smiles down at it, but there’s a lonely look on her face. “I get my dose of cuteness when I see my nephews.”

We say goodbye, and I’m heading to the door when she calls my name, and I turn around.

“About Switzerland. I have some pull at CERN, close colleagues who are collaborating on various studies. I was half tempted to join them a while back, but I came to Nashville to take care of my mom, and time just got away from me.”

“Ah.”

“Dr. Blanton didn’t approve your application, but I wonder if he puts enough importance on theoretical physics. He’s, well, quite, um . . . old school.” She clears her throat and straightens her jacket. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up for a fellowship, because there’s no availability at CERN at the moment; however, I called some friends last week after I read your paper and shared it with them. They were receptive—and impressed.”

I gasp. “Oh.”

She smiles. “We have a new school year ahead of us, and now that you have me, your chances are better for next year.”

A frisson of excitement washes over me. Next year feels far away, but with my writing and classes and Devon, time will fly. “Thank you so much for recommending me. It would be a dream to go,” I say, then pause and say on impulse, “Dr. Benson, you should come have Sunday dinner at my mama’s. She’ll try to set you up with any man with a job, but it’s worth it to eat at her table.”

She starts, then smiles. “I’d love to.”

My happy bubble expands. I stop by the library for a quick study session with my students, and they surprise me with a giant cupcake with pink icing that we huddle over in a closed room and split between us while discussing their questions for the final they’ll take at the end of the week. Afterward, Quinn meets me at my apartment, and we finish boxing up my things. He says he’ll take them to a storage unit that’s close to Daisy. After grabbing some takeout, I dash over to Myrtle and John’s complex, then take her to a follow-up appointment with her orthopedic doctor. With assurances from John and myself that we’ll help her with her recovery, she agrees to schedule a knee replacement in the fall.

I’m bringing your present home is the text I get from Devon once I get back to the penthouse. He adds a heart emoji, and I squeal.

What is it? Give me a hint. Is it your body? After a moment, I delete the last line before I hit send. It’s not his body that calls to me—well, I mean, yeah, he’s the most gorgeous man I know, but that isn’t why my heart is full. It’s his hesitant care when he took my virginity, the way we laugh at the silliest things, the universe he described in the closet.

It’s going to bring you full circle. I’ve had it planned since your first morning in my kitchen.

Cookware?

You can’t cook.

Sex books?

You have me for that. Don’t be wearing a mask when I come home. There will be consequences.

A delicious shiver races over my skin.

I like your “consequences”.

Laughing, I dash around the penthouse, deciding to create my own surprise.s

It’s not much, just a red bikini from Walmart—on sale!—that I’ve put on. The silky fabric barely covers my breasts, and the bottoms are a tad skimpy. Okay, it’s a size too small, but who cares? I’ll use what I have.

With Def Leppard crooning from speakers, the lights dimmed, I stand at the far side of the den, posing against the backdrop of his windows, and when I hear his key in the door, my heart races.

Shuffling sounds come from the foyer as he enters, and I picture him taking his shoes off, managing our takeout as he deposits his keys on the table in the hall. He calls my name and flicks on the lights to the den.

He’s changed since this morning, the joggers and T-shirt replaced with jeans and a tight black shirt that emphasizes his broad chest. He freezes, and his heated eyes flare, a slow grin easing up his face. Low eyes drift over me, making my nipples stand to attention, my core with its own heartbeat. “Oh, baby, you look . . .” He rakes a hand over his mouth. “You’re gonna want to put something on.”

“Why?” I sashay toward him, as much as a lanky girl can.

“Because you’ve got company—holy shit, Giselle—” comes from Aiden as he emerges from behind Devon, a wide grin on his face.

A petite girl around my age with spiky pink hair and a leather jacket appears on the other side of Devon, her face reddening, eyes checking me out, then looking up at the ceiling.

My mouth opens and closes, and I tumble to my knees behind the couch.

I hear Devon’s voice. “Erase those thoughts and images out of your head right now.”

I look over the edge of the couch. Devon has gotten behind Aiden, with his hands over his eyes, and Aiden’s wrestling to get away.

“I’m just going to get out of this, um, bikini I was trying on,” I call and make a run for the hallway and Devon’s room.

“That’s barely a bikini!” Aiden says from behind me.

“Shut up, Alabama,” Devon growls. “We were going swimming.”

“You don’t have a pool!”

“I’m going to build one!” Devon replies.

I slam the door and sprawl out on his bed, dying, when Devon cracks open the door and peeks in at me.

“Baby? You okay?”

I can’t bear to look at him. “Is my present a foursome?”

“Nah, I don’t share.”

“Thank God. No judgment for those who do, but you’re all mine.”

He laughs as he slips in the door and walks over, his gaze running over me, then the room, seeing where I’ve unpacked some of his boxes and laid out some of his high school and college football mementos.

“Been busy?” He sits on the bed.

“I was looking for stuff to make you a shadow box. I found your senior football picture from high school and the program when you won the state championship,” I mutter. “What are they doing here?”

“Danika is the girl who does my ink. She’s here to finish your tattoo. Surprise.” He chuckles. “Aiden popped up in the lobby and begged to come up. I’m really sorry.”

“She’s going to fix my tattoo?” Some of my embarrassment fades. She’s probably seen a lot of skin. As for Aiden—I’m sure he’s seen worse.

“I like your bikini,” he murmurs and stretches out next to me as he brushes a knuckle over my collarbone.

I press my face to his chest. “Ugh. It’s too small. I wanted to surprise you.”

He laughs. “You run fast.”

“So a tattoo?” I mumble.

He plays with my hair. “Yeah. I figured you’d never walk into a tattoo shop again, so I brought her to you. My girl needs a finished tramp stamp.”