for me. This is all very new.”
It was new for him, too, but it also felt very right. He wrapped his arms around her. “We have plenty of time to figure out those things. And we always have the frozen eggs.”
She peered up at him. “We?”
“Yes. We.” No hesitation.
“We,” she repeated, not a question this time. Then she slid her arms around his neck, her voice husky. “I like the sound of that, Ford Dixon.”
He lowered his head and kissed her, not worrying about what would happen tomorrow, or three months from now, or even thirty years down the road. All that mattered was that she would be by his side.
And that was the happiest damn ever-after of them all.
Epilogue
TWO WEEKS LATER, Victoria sat side by side with Ford, trying not to smile when she saw him run a nervous hand through his hair.
Ah, had she ever been there.
“So, this is Ford,” she told Dr. Metzel, with no small amount of isn’t-my-boyfriend-so-cute pride.
Two days ago, when she and Ford had been talking about their weekend plans, she’d offhandedly remarked that she had her therapy appointment on Saturday. Much to her surprise, he’d offered to go with her.
And then her heart had melted when she’d heard why.
“It’s nice to meet you, Ford,” Dr. Metzel said with a warm smile. “As I told Victoria on the phone, I’m happy to explore therapy options for the both of you. Normally, in circumstances like these, I’d recommend a combination of couple’s sessions and individual sessions. But let’s see how things go today, and then we can figure out a plan of attack. Okay?”
When they both nodded, the good doctor picked up his pen. “I think we should start with you, Ford. What is it that you would like to accomplish in these sessions?”
“Wow.” Ford exhaled, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “We’re just diving right in with that one, are we?”
Victoria patted his knee. “It’s okay, babe. He already knows you have issues, too.”
“Right.” He held out his hands, going for a joke. “I guess Dad didn’t play enough catch with me growing up.”
Victoria turned to Dr. Metzel. “Clearly, he’s going to have to dig a little deeper.”
Ford shot her a look. “Smart-ass.” But when they shared a smile, he eased back in his chair, seemingly more relaxed.
Dr. Metzel pointed between them with his pen. “Ah. I see how this works.” He began scribbling in his notepad.
Ford glanced sideways at Victoria, speaking under his breath. “Does he always write everything down?”
“You get used to it after a while,” she whispered back.
Dr. Metzel looked up and folded his hands on his lap. “So, Ford. You were about to say what you would like to accomplish in these therapy sessions.”
“Well . . . I think we all can agree that Victoria and I aren’t the best at letting down our guards. A few weeks ago, after her panic attack, both of us held back instead of opening up and we nearly lost each other because of that.” He looked at her, his blue eyes holding hers meaningfully. “And I think, basically, we both know that this is a really good thing, and don’t ever want to be in a place where that happens again.”
Victoria linked her fingers through his, feeling her throat tighten with emotion. “Well said.”
I’m not about to cede control to Fate, waiting around for Mr. Right to show up on my doorstep.
But apparently, Fate had gone and done her thing, anyway.
That sneaky little bitch.
Keep reading for an excerpt of another irresistible novel from Julie James
Love Irresistibly
Available now from Berkley Sensation
BROOKE PARKER STEPPED up to the bar at The Shore restaurant, ready to place her lunch order. The bartender, however, beat her to the punch.
“Hey, it’s my favorite customer—Chicken Tacos, Extra Pico.” He flashed her a grin. “That’s my nickname for you.”
Yes, she got that. “I suppose I’ve been called worse,” Brooke said as the bartender moved to the cash register to ring her up. She was indeed a regular, and she took pride in that. The restaurant was only two blocks from her office, right on Oak Street Beach, which made it the perfect midday escape. And it had the best chicken tacos in the city. Not that she was biased.
Okay, maybe she was a little biased.
She handed over a twenty-dollar bill. “I’ll take a strawberry-mango smoothie, too.”
“Ooh, a smoothie. Getting a little crazy today, are we?” In his early twenties, with blond hair and a tanned face, the bartender had the look of