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Sloane put her spoon down. “Man, you’re like physically incapable of not making assumptions, aren’t you? Do you

think it’s like a medical thing? Maybe there’s a support group—”

“Shut up.” Arwyn chuckled, but Sloane could read her energy even if her eyes were hidden by the glare in her glasses. She was asking about their future.

“Three years is a long time. Who knows where I’ll be then and what I’ll want to do?” She’d almost said we but stopped herself. “Financial crimes look interesting, or complex fraud maybe. Organized crimes might be cool. Putting away gangsters running game from behind all those fake businesses and money laundering schemes. At least that way my Econ and business background wouldn’t be completely wasted.”

“You really think you’d stay that long?” Arwyn tried to sound casual, but she was showing her complete hand.

“Those teams are so small; it might take a while for an opening—”

“Oh, please. Have you met me? It’s no competition,” she said with a shrug and hoped it was true.

“So, what about New York?” Arwyn asked after a beat.

“No chance you might be called back to live your dream?”

Sloane wiped her mouth and tossed the napkin on the desk. Instead of responding with a joke to ease the tension she looked at Arwyn. “Dreams change,” she decided as her chest tightened and her stomach tensed. “I’m over New York. It’s who I wanted to be, not who I am.”

“You’re over it? Really?” Arwyn didn’t hide her disbelief.

“Okay, fine. I’m not all the way over it, but mostly.”

Sloane tangled her fingers in Arwyn’s, loving how every nerve-ending ignited on contact. “It’s corny as hell, and

something I used to think losers said to themselves to feel better,” Sloane started, eliciting an amused eye roll from Arwyn. “But maybe things do happen for a reason, you know?” She laced their fingers together. “Closed doors and flooded basements and all that.”

Arwyn let out a bark of laughter before kicking the door closed with a loud slam and rolling Sloane toward her.

“That’s definitely not how that saying goes.”

“I flooded your basement,” Sloane joked before letting herself be kissed.

“Shut up,” Arwyn demanded against Sloane’s lips. “You still owe me a pair of pantyhose.”

Sloane ran her hand beneath Arwyn’s dressed. “How about I owe you two,” she teased.

Predictably, Arwyn broke away and admonished her for being a terrible influence. Before Sloane could persist and get in just a little more trouble, her phone buzzed.

“You have O cer Diaz this afternoon, don’t you?” Arwyn asked, already cleaning up even though Sloane had no desire to leave their little nest.

“Yes, ugh. She talks so much. Can’t you prep her?” Sloane asked before wrapping her arms around Arwyn’s waist and breathing in her perfume.

Arwyn dropped what she was doing and leaned into her embrace as she laid her arms over Sloane’s and held her.

Without speaking, she said she didn’t want to let go either.

In a fuzzy moment of unmatched euphoria and peace, the likes of which she’d never felt in her life, Sloane almost gave in to the overwhelming contentment and confessed her feelings.

“Are we still on for your fancy dinner Friday?” Arwyn asked.

Sloane followed her voice back to Earth. “Yeah,” she said, spinning her around and giving her a peck on the lips. “It’s going to be the night of your life.”

“Oh yeah?” Arwyn laughed as she opened the door, ready to take the bag full of mostly empty containers to the garbage can in the kitchen. “With the way you’ve been talking it up all week, I don’t even know what to expect anymore.”

Sloane winked as obnoxiously as she could while following her down the hall. The kitchen was on the way to her o ce where her notes for the meeting were waiting.

“Don’t worry, babe. I’m going to knock your socks o .”