Page 171 of Dream Chaser

This was love: patience, understanding, support. As I closed my eyes and pictured our future together, my worries floated away, leaving me lighter than I’d felt in forever.

He was right—I would be okay. I had a job I loved. An apartment full of pretty things I’d chosen myself. A business I couldn’t wait to take off the ground. Most importantly, I had him.

His love. His encouragement. His heart.

I didn’t want to imagine how my life would’ve turned out if I hadn’t been desperate enough to apply for that job. If I hadn’t met him.

I might’ve been okay eventually, but I doubted I’d be this happy. Feel this loved. This seen.

“Ale?” I whispered, snuggling against him.

“¿Qué, amor?”

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He inched away and gave me a tender look. “Is that so?”

“Yes, Mr. Guerrero.”

His eyes darkened. Burned as he cupped my cheek.

“Yes, boss,” I pushed.

He rolled us over, stealing a breath from my lungs. I traced his jaw, then his cheek. His lips.

“If I remember correctly,” he rasped, “I asked you to call me by my name when we were alone.”

I pulled his face to mine. “Ale. My Ale.”

His lips covered mine. “Yours, amor. Forever yours.”

EPILOGUE

Alejandro

Almost two years later

Emerport

Nova halted on the sidewalk, barely a few feet away from the gallery’s entrance, squeezing my hand. “Wait, Ale.”

Pedestrians drifted past us. Some people disappeared into the gallery. I cupped her cheek. “It’s going to be amazing. This is your big night. The first of many.”

Nervous laughter spilled from her lips. “God, I’m a mess. Still can’t wrap my head around this.” She gestured to the exhibition poster beside the entrance. It featured a dramatic black-and-white photograph of Asher standing next to his bike, the lights of the empty track glowing in the background. Timeless was written in bold white lettering. In a slightly smaller font, right underneath, it read: Photographer Nova Lockhart.

Aeterno offered Nova an exhibit in partnership with them, displaying unused images from the campaigns she shot with Asher and other athletes, along with portraits she created for the event.

“No reason to be nervous.” I ran my knuckles over her flushed cheek. “You worked hard, and people came to appreciate your talent.”

“Okay.” She brushed her lips against mine. “Let’s do it.”

My phone vibrated in my coat. I pulled it out.

“My mom,” I said. “Take it, I’m sure she wants to talk to you.”

Smiling, Nova accepted the call and answered in Spanish. Thanks to her lessons with Kaia and using Spanish with me, she was fluent enough now that she could talk to my family without needing my help.

“Gracias, Teresa,” Nova said. “Hablamos luego.”