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Cece chuckles. “Maybe a little. But also, I just see what I see and know what I know. What I see here are two people with enough fiery attraction to level the building, and what I know is that you’ll figure out a way to work this out.

In the meantime, I’ll leave you to it. What is it , exactly, anyway? ”

I laugh at her inquisitive expression. “Shouldn’t you already know that?”

Cece waves that away. “If I knew, why would I be asking you?”

Now it’s Amelia’s turn to laugh. “I’m helping Elliot with some research he’s doing. We’re meeting to talk about it.”

“Ah,” Cece says, knowing smile on her face. “The postcards, right?”

“Yep,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “Amelia offered to help me figure out who Henry is so we can piece the story together.”

Cece glances at me then puts her hand on Amelia’s arm, serious expression crossing her face. “There are no two people I would rather have looking for my mom’s great love.”

Amelia clears her throat, emotion clouding her face. “We’ll find him.”

Cece nods. “I know you will.” She plucks a sleeping Killer from Amelia’s arms and carefully puts her back in the bag.

Then she leans up and kisses Amelia’s cheek, whispering something I can’t hear but has the emotion on Amelia’s face deepening.

“Bye, my darlings,” she says, hitching her bag up on her shoulder.

“Happy hunting!” Then she’s gone, sweeping out of my office in a tornado of red chiffon.

Amelia stays where she is, staring at the door where Cece just disappeared.

I stand from my desk, walking past her to close my door and then turn, standing right in front of her.

I put my hand on her cheek, tipping her face up so I can look her in the eyes.

Hers are swirling with feeling, stoking every protective instinct I have.

“Did she say something that made you sad?” I ask, stroking my thumb along her cheekbone.

Amelia shakes her head, leaning into my touch in a way that has my own emotions rising.

“She didn’t. It’s just…it’s nice how you are together.

The way you talk to each other. The way you both talk about the rest of your family.

I just…sometimes I wish I had that.” Her voice drops to a whisper at the end, and I can’t shake the feeling that she is letting me in, just a little bit.

Giving me a piece of herself she doesn’t give away easily.

And if I wasn’t looking right at her, I would have missed the sheen of tears in her eyes.

Without another thought, I drop my hand from her cheek and wrap her in a hug. I snake an arm around her waist and tangle a hand in her hair, and when she wraps her arms around me, I let out a breath I feel like I’ve been holding for my entire life.

Amelia fits against me like she was made for me. With her body pressed against mine, I feel like I suddenly know the answer to every question I’ve ever had. And when she takes a deep, shuddering breath and settles even further into my hold, my brain empties except for one single word.

Home.

Amelia feels like home.

Somewhere in the deep recesses of my brain, I knew that she was going to be it for me, but with her wrapped up in my arms, right here in my office under the bright fluorescent lights, I surrender to the inevitability of us.

Of doing whatever it takes, for as long as it takes, for us to have our end game.

I know it with more certainty than I’ve ever known anything in my life.

“Thank you,” she mumbles into my sweater. “I needed this.”

I turn my head and press a kiss to her temple. “Do you want to talk about it?’

Amelia unwinds herself from me, and I feel the loss of her immediately.

She shakes her head, and I think she’s going to refuse until she starts talking.

“It’s not really that complicated.” She walks over and drops down into one of the chairs in front of my desk, and I take the other one.

“Orphaned girl misses her parents who died tragically and gets sad when she sees happy families. It’s a tale as old as time. I should probably be over it by now.”

I shake my head, taking one of her hands and lacing her fingers with mine. “I don’t think there’s any kind of timeline for grief. It’s sneaky and insidious and does whatever the fuck it wants.”

Amelia laughs a little but there’s no humor in it.

“Isn’t that the truth. But in my case, grief comes with a heaping side of guilt.

I have the absolute best brother in the world who dropped everything to raise me and my younger sister, Olivia, when my parents died, trying to give us a family even after we lost so much.

Hell, he gave up the love of his life for us and only got her back a couple of years ago.

She’s amazing too. He would do anything for us.

And when I say anything, I mean literally anything in the entire world because he’s a famous billionaire and can have and do anything he wants.

And he’s made it so my sister and I can have and do whatever we want too.

But some days I miss my parents so much my chest literally aches, and I’m also lying my face off to Gabe every single day about what I’m doing with my life because I’m so desperate to make my own way and run away from his legacy.

Fuck.” She blows out a breath and scrapes a hand through her hair, tugging more strands out of her bun. “I’m kind of a mess.”

I squeeze her hand and tip her chin up so she’s looking at me. “You are the farthest thing from a mess, Mystery Girl. How old were you when you lost your parents?”