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Tahlia

July 29th - Day One Bar Exam

I ’ve never felt this kind of pressure in my life.

Not during finals.

Not even in court that time my externship judge made me argue a suppression motion on the fly.

This?

This is different.

This is years of work.

Generations of expectation.

Two law degrees, three highlighters, and one overachieving brain all balancing on a single exam that holds the keys to everything I’ve been working toward.

And still—I don’t feel ready.

The sun isn’t even up yet, but I’ve been awake for hours, lying in bed with my eyes wide open, my stomach in knots, and my mind running cross-examinations on every possible essay question.

When the alarm finally goes off, I sit up slow.

Careful.

As if any sudden movement might shake something loose.

My chest feels tight.

My mouth is dry.

My limbs are wired and exhausted at the same time.

This is it.

Today, I sit for the Bar exam.

And even though I’ve prepared, outlined, color-coded, highlighted, mock-tested, and stress-cried my way through every subject twice…

I still feel like I’m walking into battle barefoot.

I’m about to get up when my phone buzzes.

I swipe it open and the second I see his face—half-shadowed, shirtless, hair a mess, and leaning back against what looks like hotel pillows, —I breathe again.

“Morning, counselor.”

I exhale, my chest easing the second I see him.

“You’re up early.”

“Didn’t sleep much.” He pauses.

“Was thinking about you.”

That hits harder than it should.

“You nervous?” he asks, gaze scanning me like he can tell I haven’t taken a full breath since 3 a.

m.

“Terrified,” I admit.

“But also wired. Like I could either cry or sprint a mile.”

“Well, I think I have something that can help with that.” Jake smiles.

“Check your door.”

“What?”

“Go on. I’ll wait.”

I set the phone down, walk barefoot to my front door, and open it.

There, standing in the hallway like a surprise attack, is a delivery guy holding a massive bouquet of peonies, oriental lilies, and white roses, plus a giant balloon bouquet .

I sign the clipboard for acceptance and carry everything back inside.

Jake’s still on the screen, watching.

I pull the envelope from the arrangement and open the note.

“You don’t need luck. You’ve got this. — J.”

My throat tightens and my eyes heat from the threat of tears.

“Jake…”

“I know you hate superstitions,” he says.

“But I figured I’d cover both bases.”

I press the card to my chest and blink fast.

“You’ve studied harder than anyone I’ve ever met. You’re brilliant. And you don’t freeze when shit gets intense—if anything, you lean in.”

“Baby…”

“When I get home, I’m taking you out. No flash. Just you and me. Dinner, music, your favorite dessert, no outlines allowed.”

“Deal,” I whisper wiping away the treacherous tears that escape.

He smiles, voice lower now.

“You ready?”

I shake my head.

“No. But I’m going anyway.”

“Damn right you are.”

We stare at each other for another beat.

“Go kill it, counselor.”

“Love you,” I say before I can think too hard about it.

“Love you more. See you soon.”

I end the call, straighten my spine, and grab my bag.

Let’s go.

July 30th

By the time I finish day two of the exam, I’m not even sure I remember my name.

My brain is cooked, my body aches and my fingers are still cramped from all the damn writing.

I unlock my condo, already dreaming of silence and sleep.

For the first time, I’m not lugging any books home to study.

It’s all over.

I enter and turn to go to my kitchen to grab a water when I look and see a familiar frame standing in my kitchen…

Jake.

Dark jeans, fitted black tee, and his baseball cap backwards is sending me over the edge right now.

My jaw drops.

“What—how—when?”

He grins.

“Team’s off today.”

“So, you flew home?”

“I had to. I missed my girl and I wanted to check on you.”

I don’t care that I’m still in the clothes I tested in, or that I haven’t even looked in a mirror since 6 a.

m.

, I hug him tight.

It’s one thing when he was here, or I was over at his place and we were becoming used to each other.

It’s different when he’s on the road and I’m lucky if I get to see him once a week.

His arms wrap around me, and my body just folds into him.

Everything tight in my chest finally loosens.

“I’m gross,” I mumble against his shirt.

“You’re perfect,” he says into my hair.

“Even when you’re sweaty or exhausted, you’re still the smartest, most badass woman I’ve ever met.”

“Keep talking like that and I might marry you just for the compliments.”

He chuckles, warm and deep in his chest.

“Noted.”

He pulls back, studies me for a second.

“You hungry?”

“To be honest, I don’t know. My mental has lost all files for senses.”

“Even this?” He tilts my head toward his and kisses me deep, hungry, needy.

When we break, I’m energized and tired at the same time.

He doesn’t say anything after, just holds my face in his hands as if he’s anchoring us both.

And for once, I don’t need to say anything either.

“No, I know what that is, thank God.”

He chuckles.

Come on.

Let’s go eat anyway before I start listing reasons why not eating after the Bar exam is a felony in at least twenty-seven states.

”

“Can I at least change my clothes first?”

“Need some help?”

“If you do, we’ll never make it out the room.”

“And you have a problem with that?”

He lifts me and I wrap my legs around his waist hoping to sway his decision.

“You are the greatest temptation. But no. Food first, sleep later.”

“Okay. I’ll go change.” I give him a kiss on the cheek to further avoid temptation and slip away to my room.

He takes me to a place I love—a little tucked-away spot with dim lights, quiet booths, and servers who don’t hover.

The hostess starts to ask where we’d like to sit, but Jake just nods toward the back.

“Corner booth. Far wall.”

They know us here.

Or maybe just him.

Either way, we slide in, and I let the leather swallow me whole.

I don’t even bother picking up the menu.

Jake glances at me, one brow raised.

“You want to pretend you’re gonna order the salmon, or should I just go ahead?”

“You already know what I want.”

He smirks.

“Yes, I do. Steak, medium well with potatoes and a side salad.”

“Very good. You’ll be a stalker in no time.”

“No. You’re just predictable.”.

I laugh.

He reaches across the table, fingers sliding over mine.

“I’m proud of you, counselor.”

Our drinks come fast—bourbon for him, red for me.

I swirl it once, then lift it.

“To passing,” I say.

“To you,” he counters, raising his glass.

“The future partner of Marshal, Wynn, & Wolfe.

I clink his gently. “Have you been practicing calling me ‘partner,’ Reynolds?

”

He grins.

“Practicing calling you a lot of things. Most of which would get me kicked out of here.”

“Oh, so that’s the mood you’re in.”

“Whenever I’m around you? It always is, counselor.”

He watches me over the rim of his glass, something soft sitting behind the edge in his eyes.

“You’re different tonight,” he says.

“Exhausted?”

“No. Lighter.”

I nod, letting that settle.

“I feel like I’ve been running underwater for months. Today was… the surface.”

I take a sip, eyes never leaving his.

He holds my gaze, fingers still brushing over my hand.

“To your future,” he says.

I squeeze his hand.

“No. To our future.”

“Exactly.

Two Months later

My parent’s house is full.

It’s the official launch of Carter & Carter Law , and my father is holding court in the living room as if he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment.

He came out of retirement to build the firm for Lauren and me, but if we’re being honest? I think he missed the war stories. The monologues. The law books. The drama.

Even Tina, Wade, and Zoey have flown in from Texas to join the celebration.

Laughter spills through the walls, something’s burning in the oven, and someone—probably Joi—is already opening the second bottle of champagne.

Jake’s been trailing me all afternoon. Helping move chairs, chatting with my mother, and successfully dodging every attempt by Tina to feed him five different hors d’oeuvres at once. He’s in a charcoal button-down and jeans, sleeves pushed to the elbows, hat left in the truck. I’ve caught at least three of my aunts checking him out already.

And I’ve had to give them the evil eye. #Handsoffmyman

He hasn’t let go of my hand since we walked in.

“Do I look too polished to be trusted?

” he murmurs against my temple as I refill my glass.

I turn and give him a once over.

“You look like trouble,” I say, sipping slowly.

“Which tracks.”

He brushes a kiss behind my ear, then nods toward the front door.

“Be right back.”

I watch him disappear outside, then get pulled into a group photo with Lauren and our dad.

Everyone’s mid-laugh when I hear the first little high-pitched and eager bark.

“What the hell…” I start, turning just in time to see Jake reappear—with a wriggling Cavalier King Charles Spaniel puppy tucked to his chest.

I blink in confusion.

He told me he had some news to share with me and I guess this is it.

Everyone turns and the room collectively melts .

“Oh my God,” Lauren whispers.

“You’re kidding.”

Jake walks right up to me, smiling that too-smooth, too-certain smile that makes my knees weak.

“When did you get a puppy?”

The puppy has a tiny black velvet box attached to his collar.

My heart slams when I take it into my hands.

Joi fans herself with a napkin.

My mom’s tearing up.

Tina’s mouthing is he proposing?

at Wade, who’s just nodding like of course he is.

Jake looks down at me, calm and sure and cocky as hell.

I pop open the box and inside there’s a key?

Just a key.

I look up, stunned and confused.

“Jake… I already have a key to your place.”

He grins.

“Oh yeah. I no longer own that condo. So you may want to give the key to the new owners.”

“What? When?”

“I sold it last month. Lauren helped me with a contingency clause and when I found this house, we finalized the contract.”

It be your own people to do something behind your back and not tell you a thing.

My jaw drops.

“Also, while we’ve been here, a moving crew’s been unloading everything into a new house. Our house.”

He pulls out his phone and turns the screen to me, and there it is—a stone and glass dream wrapped in trees and sky.

Ours.

It’s huge.

Set back from the road.

Wide front porch.

Room to breathe and no neighbors nearby.

“It has seven bedrooms,” he says.

“Six full, and two half baths. Sits on a little over two acres. Close enough to the city, yet far enough to matter.”

I stare at the photo, thumb through other images on the site of this sprawling property, then back at him.

“Why?”

He shrugs, but it’s not careless.

It’s steady.

“Because I didn’t think I’d ever be the roots-down type. Used to tease the guys about settling down and getting hitched. But now?”

He glances around the room—at our families laughing together, and the puppy curled in my arms.

“Now I want what our parents have. Love. Family. A yard big enough to wear the dog out and a kitchen we’ll probably never cook in.”

He steps closer, lowering his voice just for me.

“And I was thinking, we start with the puppy now. And maybe, one day… a family of our own.”

“So, I’m asking you, Tahlia Simone Carter… will you do me the honor and move in with me?”

There’s a pause.

Not because I don’t know my answer—but because I’m too full to speak.

Full of love for this man and hope for our future.

I nod.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“I will move in with you.”

Jake lifts the puppy between us, like he knows this is the beginning of something bigger than both of us.

And somehow, it feels exactly right—us, a dog, and the future stretching out with no end in sight.

He grabs me by the waist, and kisses me as if the rest of the room doesn’t exist.

Everyone claps.

Cheers.

Toasts.

Champagne glasses raise mid-hug.

My mom dabs her eyes.

Lauren pulls out a manila envelope from her oversized purse and waves it overhead.

Typical Lauren.

Always five steps ahead.

I don’t even care—because this time?

I want what she’s offering.

“So, I’ve taken the liberty of drawing up the seller’s contract for your place and I already have a very motivated buyer.” she says.

I laugh against Jake’s chest.

“Lauren. Is always prepared,” I kid.

The music resumes and a song by Ella Mai filters through the house.

He leans in again holding my gaze as we sway.

“So?”

“So,” I echo.

I kiss him once more, deep and slow.

Then I say the only thing I can.

“I’m glad I knocked on your door.”

Jake grins, brushing his thumb down my cheek like he’s memorizing the moment.

“Me too, counselor.”

We’re swaying to Ella Mai, and I know without question—this is my soft place.

My forever.

And this man?

My favorite decision.

THE END