Page 79 of Worth the Wait

Jackson stands, clearing our plates despite my protests. When he returns from the kitchen, he extends his hand to me. "Dance with me?"

"There's no music," I point out, even as I place my hand in his.

He leans over to my phone that’s still connected to my speaker, tapping the screen a few times until soft music fills the apartment. Then he draws me to my feet and into his arms, one hand at the small of my back, the other holding mine against his chest.

We sway together in the candlelight, my head resting against his shoulder, his cheek pressed to my hair. The familiar scent of his cologne mingles with the lingering aroma of our dinner, creating a moment so perfect, so complete, that tears prick behind my eyelids.

"Hey," he murmurs, pulling back slightly to look at me. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," I whisper, blinking back tears. "Everything's right. That's what scares me."

His hand rises to cup my cheek, thumb brushing away a tear I hadn't realized had fallen. "We're allowed to be happy, Tarryn. After everything, we're allowed this."

I turn my face into his palm, pressing a kiss to his lifeline. "I want this. Us. A life together. I'm just afraid?—"

"Of losing it all again," he finishes for me, understanding in his eyes. "I know. I'm scared too. But we're not surrendering to fear this time."

He pulls me closer, our bodies fitting together with the perfect alignment that still amazes me. "Whatever we decide about New York, we decide together. And whatever happens after, we face it together."

"Together," I echo, the word a promise and a prayer as we continue swaying to music that seems to have been written just for us, just for this moment.

"New York?"My mother's voice rises with excitement through the phone. "Oh, Tarryn, that's wonderful! You and Jackson both?"

I pace my living room, phone pressed to my ear, surprised by her enthusiasm. "You're not upset? About me moving farther away? With Dad's health issues?"

"Sweetheart," she says, her voice softening. "Love doesn't come with geographic limitations. We'll always be family, wherever you build your life."

I sink onto my couch, emotion tightening my throat. "But what if something happens with Dad? What if you need me?"

"Planes exist for a reason," she replies pragmatically. "And your father would never forgive himself if you sacrificed this opportunity because of him."

"Are you sure?" I ask, still uncertain.

"Live your life, darling. Build it with Jackson. Do what's best for you both." Her voice wavers slightly. "Just come home soon for a visit, okay? It's been too long."

Guilt twists inside me. "I know, Mom. I'm sorry. I've been so focused on work."

"That's what telephones are for," she teases. "But we understand. And we're so proud of you, Tarryn. So proud of the woman you've become."

After we hang up, I sit motionless, her wisdom settling around me. My entire adult life has been shaped by the fear of being vulnerable, of losing control, of repeating past mistakes.But maybe the real mistake was letting that fear dictate my choices.

A few moments later, Jackson arrives with the takeout he picked up on his way over from the gym. “Hey, baby. You’re not going to believe what my dad said to me today.” He plants a kiss on my lips. "I talked to my parents," he says, unpacking containers of Thai food onto my coffee table. "About New York, about us, about everything."

“Oh yeah?” I giggle at what appears to once again be cosmic timing. I curl into the corner of my couch, watching him move with easy familiarity through my space. "And?"

"My dad said, and I quote, 'If you let that girl go again, I'll disown you.'" Jackson laughs, the sound rich and warm. "Apparently, they've been hoping we'd find our way back to each other ever since we reconnected at Blake."

“Really?" I ask, relieved, always slightly worried that deep down they hated me for breaking their son’s heart all those years ago.

"My mother pointed out that my father's health issues have given them perspective on what really matters." He sits beside me, his thigh pressing against mine. "She said life is too short to prioritize anything over love."

“I also had a great talk with my mom today. She said almost the same thing, that love doesn't come with geographic limitations."

Jackson's hand finds mine, fingers intertwining with practiced ease. "Seems our families are wiser than we gave them credit for."

I turn to face him fully. "Let's do this," I say, squeezing his hand. "Let's move to New York."

His eyes widen. "You're sure?"

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