A second chance.
His mother’s words nearly knock him over. And something loosens in his chest. The hard knot of regret, of guilt he’s kept all these long years unraveling.
He has a second chance.
The future is wide open. He just needs to hold on to it.
Tessie sits on the edge of the Wilders’ bathtub, leg bouncing a mile a minute, chewing on a nail. For the fourth time in the last twenty seconds, she rereads the text from Nova King herself. The woman owns the largest celebrity design firm in Los Angeles. A curt can you spare a minute that has her close to, if not, shitting her pants.
And then her phone rings. Explodes in her hands. Tessie nearly drops it in the toilet.
Fuck. It’s her. Declining her call probably isn’t a wise move, even if her career is already in the gutter.
She slides the Answer bar. “Nova, hi,”
“Tess Truelove, where have you been all my life? Clearly not at my firm.” Nova sounds like an old-school Hollywood actress. Simultaneously bored and sultry.
“I’ve been out of the country. On vacation.”
“I see.” The designer’s words are crisp, betraying nothing. “I heard you’ve parted ways with Atlas.”
That’s a nice way of saying she told her boss to fuck off. “I have.”
“You’re all over the news, Tess. The bungalow you did for Penny Pain is sending shockwaves through the community. According to Architectural Digest, you’re the most requested designer since R.M. Matlin designed the Schumacher villa.”
“Wow,” she breathes, stunned. “I had no idea. I’ve, uh, kind of tuned out the world these days.”
“Smart woman. Listen, I’m not calling to make small talk. I want to offer you a job.”
Tessie’s brain fizzes. She stands and paces from one end of the small room to the other. “What?”
“A job. I understand you’re in need of one.”
“I am.” Desperately. “But. . .”
Is this what she really wants? Working for celebrities? Sure, she loves the glamor and the excitement and the challenge, but she wants to help people find their beauty. Not be barked at by whiny actors or decimate historic homes to make room for more stale open-floor plans. Going back to that same old tired world she wasn’t a fan of.
She wasn’t anything. Especially happy.
“Tess? You there?”
She inhales deeply. Time to take a stand. To do what she’s been doing this last month with Solomon. It’s time to live.
“Nova, I’m pregnant. And while I love designing, I won’t do what I was doing when I worked for Atlas.”
A long silence, so long she thinks maybe the call dropped, and then Nova says, “I understand. And I’m in the same position you are. We’re working on making Nova Interiors an all-inclusive workplace, especially to mothers. Right now, we’re only offering sixteen weeks of paid maternity leave, but we’re hoping to adjust our policies in the near future.”
Tessie’s head spins. Paid maternity leave? Sixteen weeks?
“I understand your child comes first. Set your hours, be on the ground for your clients, but please draw lines. Our environment isn’t perfect, but we understand a healthy work-life balance. I have no problem hiring you while you’re expecting.” A shuffle of papers. “If you’re ready, I could email a contract to you.”
Tessie stops pacing, dropping one hand to her belly like Bear’s a Magic 8 Ball that has all the answers.
Because this job sounds like the answer to her dreams. A job. Money. Insurance. Potentially a non-toxic work environment. But. . .
But what about Solomon? What about Chinook?
A month ago, she would have snapped it up, no doubt, no question.
Now here she is, in a frozen world, far from LA. Taking risks. But are they the right risks? Is she being a flighty, irresponsible woman chasing a man halfway across the world all because she saw stars?
Doubt fills her up like a balloon. Her old worries of fear and abandonment crashing over her like a rogue wave.
She and Solomon agreed, when they left Mexico, that they’d try. But what are they to each other? They haven’t committed. Neither she nor Solomon have said those three little words.
She’s never done this before. Dating. A relationship. I love yous. What if she’s bad at it? Solomon’s been married before. What if he realizes later that she’s not what he wants and he settles for her because of the baby? What if all she’s done is quit her job, left her life, left her shitty apartment, left Ash, and run away to Alaska to live with a frowny, muscled mountain man who maybe considers this temporary? Who’ll boot her the second she gets too neurotic.
She’s trying to play it cool, trying not to care, but how long can she keep it up? How long can she go with the flow? She doesn’t want to exist in limbo. She wants to exist in love. She wants Solomon. Her mountain man who smells like the woods. Wants his cozy little cabin with its wild mountains and stars.
Oh God.
How can she leave when she’s desperately in love with Solomon?
And yet, if this all goes south, if they don’t work, if she turns down the job, she’s picking herself over her son.
Biting her lip, Tess glances down at her swollen belly. She doesn’t have much time. She has to decide soon.
A shudder works its way out of her. “I just. . .I—can I think about it?”
A tap on the door. A deep rumble. “Tess? You okay?”
Shit. Solomon.
Nova’s breath hitches. Like she wasn’t expecting the refusal. “Of course. But I want you on my team, Tess. I will do all I can to persuade you.” There’s a smile in Nova’s husky voice. “No less than one text a week. I promise you that.”
“Okay, great, thanks,” Tessie whispers, flattered. “Chat soon. Bye.”
Tessie hangs up and then rips the door open. Before Solomon can say a word, she’s gripping him by the front of his jacket and yanking him into the bathroom, into her lips. She slams the door shut and pushes him up against the floral-wallpapered wall.
She kisses him. Hard. Deep. Like she can ingrain his body, his tattoos into her soul as a reminder of what she has. Of everything she wants to hold on to.
They break away, breathless. Solomon’s big hands cradle her face. “You okay?” he asks, his eyes sniper trained on hers. “I got worried.”
“I’m fine.” She kisses him again, hating to lie but not ready to tell him about the phone call. “My bladder’s the size of walnut these days.”
He lifts a dark brow, not buying it. “Or are you maybe hiding out in the bathroom?”
She flushes. “Maybe.”
He grunts a laugh. “Well, you have to tell me. I don’t want to be here either.”
Tamping down her nerves, she smiles up at him. “Yes, you do. I love your family. Big and loud and all over the place. I didn’t have that. You’re lucky.”
“I am.”
“Bear will be lucky too.”
“He will be.” Solomon runs a big hand over her stomach. “And guess what?”
“What?”
“They love you too.”
Tessie presses a hand to the center of her chest, relief slowing the fast flutter of her heart. “They do?”
“They do.”
The words are a balm. Tessie had been nervous about meeting his family. Worrying about whether they would compare her to Serena. But she didn’t feel that way at all with the Wilders. She felt welcome, all her fears put at ease.
For now.
Once more, Solomon pulls her into him, his steel-rod arms hugging her tight, and Tessie buries herself in his big body, like she can forget about the real world.
Like she doesn’t have a very, very big decision to make in a very small amount of time.
Bossy. Beautiful. Pregnant.
Tessie.
Tessie, holding her thirty-two-week belly, sticking one high-heeled foot on a fruit crate to get a better grip on a lamp bulb.
“Woman,” Solomon shouts from the bar top, fixing her with a stern glare. “Don’t you fucking dare.”