Chapter 18

Maybe I was foolish. Maybe love really does make you that way.

But I chose to believe Parker.

Even after everything—after seeing that kiss, after running—I came back to him. I let him explain. I let myself want something again. And in return, he did everything to prove he deserved that chance.

He didn’t just tell me he had nothing to hide—he showed me.

One evening, he sat beside me on the couch with his laptop and opened a folder labeled “Past.”

“These are all the women I’ve been with,” he said plainly. “Some were just friends. Some flings. Some tried to be more.”

He scrolled through pictures, names, dates. There weren’t many, but there were enough to make my stomach twist. Still, I watched. He explained each one, then deleted every file in front of me.

“This,” he said, placing his hand over mine, “is the last chapter I’m writing. You’re my present, and future.”

Every day since then, Parker had gone out of his way to make me feel safe.

He brought me coffee with hearts drawn in the foam. He left notes on my desk like we were teenagers—"You’re stunning today," "Don’t forget I love you," "Meet me for lunch, my queen."

When I got sick, he stayed up all night beside me. When I doubted myself at work, he reminded me why I was hired in the first place. When I broke down from nothing more than fear, he held me like I was breakable—and refused to let go.

But some days… my mind betrayed me.

Some days I looked in the mirror and still saw Alex’s words staring back.

Not enough. Not beautiful. Not worthy.

Some days I watched the way women laughed at Parker’s jokes in meetings or how they lingered too long when handing him documents, and I hated the way it made me feel.

Jealous.

Insecure.

Like I wasn’t his equal, even if he made me feel like I was.

I tried to ignore it, to shake it off, but it festered.

One afternoon, I asked him why he didn’t tell me he had coffee with his new investor.

“She’s a client,” he said calmly.

“She touches your arm every time she talks to you.”

He frowned. “I didn’t even notice.”

“I did,” I snapped. “You always say you don’t see it, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.”

Parker sighed and stood from his chair. “You know I love you.”

“I know,” I whispered. “But I still feel like I’m not enough sometimes.”

“So what, I’m supposed to never speak to women again? That’s not fair, Lindsey.”

Chapter 17

His sad voice is, “You want to control every woman I speak to, every move I make. I’m guilty until proven otherwise.”

Tears continued to be pinpricks in my throat. “Like I was with Alex.”

He sat down next to me. Don’t sit huddled up on the couch in one of his shirts, clutching the blanket, and waiting for him.

We waited for what I wasn't sure. Waited for dawn. Waited for him.

His eyes searched mine, sadness there.

“I’m tied to this and I can’t walk away,” he whispered. "But I can’t breathe knowing I left you in a state that is still wedded around you.”

He pulled something from his coat pocket: a ring box.

“I wanted it to be fireworks and roses and something unforgettable, but I think my proposal needs to be an assurance.”

“Marry me, please. Let’s build a life where you never have to wonder if you’re enough—because you are. Every single day, you are.”

His eyes held my gaze.

Did he just ask me to marry him?

I laughed through tears, and then nodded.

He stood, fumbling to open the ring box.

4:36 pm.

We kissed—slow and deep and messy with emotion.

And then he led me to the bedroom.

The rain pattered softly against the windows, thunder rolling in the distance. Parker undressed me slowly, hands trembling with reverence more than lust. He kissed every inch of me like he was thanking the stars for bringing me back.

“Are you sure?” he whispered.

“Yes,” I whispered back. “I’m yours.”

We made love like it was a promise.

His lips traced my collarbone, his fingers twined through mine, anchoring me to him with every movement. He didn’t rush. He didn’t push. He made me feel wanted—adored. Not like a body to claim, but a soul to worship.

And when we were done, he didn’t let go.

We lay tangled in the sheets, breathless, hearts pounding in sync.

“I love you,” he said into my hair.

“I love you too,” I whispered.

And for the first time in forever, I truly believed I could be loved without conditions.