Page 78 of Worth the Wait

My apartment door opens with the jingle of keys I gave him just days ago. "Something smells amazing," Jackson calls, his voice carrying from the entryway.

He appears in the kitchen doorway, jacket slung over one shoulder, tie loosened at his neck. His eyes widen appreciatively as he takes in the scene—table set with candles and wine, steaks perfectly seared and resting.

"What's the occasion?" he asks, dropping his jacket over a chair and coming to wrap his arms around me from behind.

I lean back against his chest, reveling in the solid warmth of him. "No occasion. I just wanted to show you that I'm putting in the work for us."

His arms tighten around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder. "You left work early to make me dinner?"

"Shocking, I know." I laugh, turning in his embrace to face him. "Tarryn Wells, workaholic extraordinaire, actually prioritizing her personal life."

His hands slide up to frame my face, eyes searching mine with an intensity that steals my breath. "I love you," he says simply. "So much, it terrifies me sometimes."

"I love you too." The words come easily now, the fear of vulnerability diminishing with each repetition. "And I want you to know that I won't run this time. No matter how complicated things get, no matter how our future plays out—I'm all in, Jackson."

He kisses me then, tender and thorough, his mouth moving against mine. I melt against him, hands sliding into his hair, holding him closer as the kiss rapidly deepens.

When we finally break apart, both breathless, he rests his forehead against mine. "I have some news," he murmurs, his voice rough at the edges.

"Good news or bad news?" I ask, reluctantly stepping back to check on the potatoes.

"Potentially life-changing news," he replies, leaning against the counter. "Miguel called me into his office today. We had a long talk."

I turn to face him, spatula frozen midair. "And?"

"He told me that as much as it would kill him to have you leave, there's an opportunity for you to be junior counsel in the New York office."

The spatula clatters against the counter. "What?"

"Apparently, the expansion plans are moving faster than expected. They need the international division fully operational within six months, not eighteen. And they need strong legal counsel dedicated to the division from the beginning."

My mind races, processing implications. "So, I could… we could both be in New York?"

"Together," he confirms, watching me carefully. "If you wanted."

I sink onto a kitchen stool, overwhelmed by the possibility. "But what about my position here? I just started as junior counsel."

"Miguel said you've more than proven yourself. The partners are willing to transfer your appointment if you want it." He moves closer, his hand finding mine. "No pressure, Tarryn. This is entirely your choice."

"New York," I breathe, the word both thrilling and terrifying. "Us. Together."

"Together," he repeats, squeezing my hand. "No long distance, no weekend flights, no missing each other."

The possibility unfurls inside me like a flower opening to the sun. But as quickly as hope blooms, practical concerns follow.

"Our families," I say, the weight of responsibility settling on my shoulders. "My dad's health. Your father's procedure."

Jackson nods, understanding immediately. "I've been thinking about that too. It's not an easy decision."

"Let's eat dinner," I suggest, gathering my composure. "Talk it through. We don't have to decide tonight."

Later, as we sit at my small dining table, candlelight flickering between us, we map out practical considerations. Financial implications. Career trajectories. Family obligations.

"My dad's doctors are at Northwestern," I say, wineglass cradled between my palms. "There are excellent specialists in New York, but would he be willing to change his entire medical team?"

"My father's procedure is scheduled for next month," Jackson adds. "I need to be here for that at least."

We continue like this through dinner, laying out concerns, examining options no matter how far-fetched they might sound. By the time we finish dessert, we've agreed to sleep on it, to consult our families, to make this decision deliberately rather than reactively.

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