“That’s kind of them,” I answered, taking a step toward him as well. “I have to admit, I’m pretty impressed with the way things turned out campaign-wise.” I stepped closer. “But not so much with how things turned out . . . with us.”
His eyes widened for a split second, the tiniest bit of hope showing before he got his emotions in check. “Well, the deck was kind of stacked against us, I suppose.”
Taking one more step, and a chance as well, I reached for his hand. “What if I told you I could unstack that deck?”
“What are you saying?”
I took a deep breath, looked into his eyes, and told the truth. “When I was seventeen, I fell in what I thought was love, with a very bad man. He told me things, made me think certain things about myself, about my body. He turned me against my friends, against my family, and by the end I was willing to sacrifice everything for him, because I thought that’s what love was. And that I wasn’t worth anything. And when it ended, I had to get away and rebuild everything that was left of me.”
His eyes flared hot with anger on my behalf, for things that had happened long ago and he could never change, but wanted to anyway.
“I was lucky to find myself again, to come out the other side of it. But something got lost in the process, and it made it impossible for me to fall in love again. Until you.”
His mouth parted, wanted to say something, but he held it back.
“I do love you, Oscar. I love you so much, but I can’t give up who I am and my entire world just to be with you.” I squeezed his hand. “But I would like to try a compromise.”
The smallest of smiles curved his lips. “A compromise, huh? What does that mean?”
“It means that I’m going to start working from home a few days a week. I’ve already talked to my boss, and while we’re still ironing out the details, he knows that it’s in his best interest to let me have this.”
“Home office?”
“Mm-hmm, and funnily enough, Chad Bowman knows the guy who owns that old store on Main Street—the one with the empty top floor that’s just waiting for someone to open up shop.”
His smile grew. “You don’t say . . .”
“Hold on there, Caveman: you’ve got a part to play in all this, too. I realize you’ve got responsibilities here that aren’t so mobile. And I can work with that, provided that you agree to spend weekends with me in the city when the market is running weekly again, as the cows allow. I’m willing to work with you on this because I know how much you love my apartment, and I know how much you love the bed in my apartment.”
“It’s a good bed.”
“And speaking of beds, we’ll need to make some changes at your place. I’m willing to bet your last dollar that Missy picked out every piece of furniture and country cow art in that house, yes?”
“Yes,” he said, the grin getting larger by the minute.
“Luckily for you, I happen to know all the best furniture designers in Manhattan, and we’ll be taking advantage of the discount I get. Just nod, Oscar.”
He nodded, looping one finger through my belt loop, tugging me closer. “Any other compromises I need to agree to?”
“I hate that sweater.”
“Okay.”
“Lose it.”
He tugged it off over his head, revealing his bare chest, threw it onto the table next to us, his scarred eyebrow raised in challenge.
There was a round of applause at the impromptu strip show, and as I looked around I had to laugh, seeing Roxie and Leo and Polly, Chad and Logan, Trudy and Wayne, Elmer and Louise, Mr. and Mrs. Oleson, and every other person I’d gotten to know over the last few months.
Roxie pointed above our heads; I looked up, and there it was.
“Mistletoe,” I whispered, and he laid an enormous kiss on me, lifting me up out of my shoes, to the sounds of Bailey Falls’ approving applause.
“I love you, Pinup,” he murmured, crushing me against his naked inked chest.
“Turns out I really, really, love you, too, you fucking caveman.”
He kissed me again, this time to the sound of Polly’s swear jar shaking.
Epilogue
My girl clung tightly to my hand as we walked down the street. It was really cold; it wouldn’t get above freezing all day. I liked the cold: it made her stick closer to me. Her arm was either through mine or around my waist, clinging tight.