Lisabeth gathered her tablet first, movents smooth and practiced. Jonathan closed his notebook with quiet finality, the kind that signaled a eting that had crossed from discussion into decision.
Zane straightened slightly in his chair.
"Professionally," he said, voice level and composed, "we accept the proposal frawork as presented. We’ll review the full docuntation internally and have a draft contract sent to you with the agreed terms and conditions."
Willow inclined her head, controlled and calm. "Thank you."
Jonathan rose. "We’ll be in touch."
Lisabeth nodded once, already moving toward the door. Neither lingered. Neither glanced back.
The door closed behind them with a muted click.
Silence followed.
Not the awkward kind. Not the strained kind.
The kind that arrives when sothing important has already been decided and no one knows what to say next.
Willow remained seated, hands folded loosely in her lap, posture straight but not rigid. Zane stayed where he was, both of them suspended in the space left behind by witnesses.
For a long mont, neither moved.
Zane stood.
The chair slid back softly as he stepped away from the table, moving around it with deliberate slowness, as though each step gave him ti to breathe through what had finally caught up with him.
Willow looked up as he approached.
He stopped in front of her.
For a second, he only looked at her, as if confirming that she was real, that she had not vanished the way things sotis did when he needed them most. Then he reached out and took her hand.
She did not pull away.
His grip was firm but careful, thumb pressing into her palm in a way that grounded them both. He drew her gently to her feet and did not let go as he turned, guiding her toward the side door that led into his private office suite.
His room.
She followed without resistance.
The door closed behind them.
Zane locked it.
The sound echoed louder than it should have.
Still holding her hand, he turned to face her. His control held for one breath longer.
Then he pulled her into his arms.
The hug was sudden and unguarded, his arms wrapping around her tightly, one hand pressing into the middle of her back, the other cradling her head as if anchoring her there. Willow’s breath hitched as she pressed against him, arms sliding around his waist.
For a long ti, neither spoke.
His breathing was uneven. Hers trembled.
When he finally pulled back enough to look at her, his hands stayed firm at her sides, forehead dropping to rest against hers.
"Damn you, Willow," he said quietly.
Her chest tightened.
"What have you done to ," he murmured, the words rough and stripped of armor.
Then, lower. Softer.
"God, I have missed you."
The sound of it broke sothing open in her.
"I missed you too," she said, voice unsteady. "Every day."
His jaw tightened, not with anger, but with contained pain. "You hurt ."
The words were calm. Controlled. They landed harder than any accusation.
"I know," she said imdiately, the apology already breaking through her composure. "Zane, I’m so sorry. I never ant to hurt you. I didn’t pull away because I stopped loving you."
He closed his eyes briefly, as if steadying himself against the weight of it.
"Then why," he asked quietly. Not accusing. Just aching. "Why did it feel like I was losing you while you were still right there."
Her breath shook.
"Because I was terrified," she said softly. "Not of you. Of myself. I didn’t know how to hold on to us without disappearing inside it. And instead of explaining that, I tried to fix it alone."
His hands tightened slightly at her waist.
"I should have trusted you enough to say it out loud," she continued. "I should have told you I was struggling instead of letting you feel shut out. That part is on ."
He opened his eyes then, searching her face.
"You didn’t leave," he said slowly. "But you made feel like I already had."
Tears spilled freely now.
"I know," she whispered. "And I hate that I did that to you."
He pulled her closer, forehead resting against hers again.
"I don’t need perfection," he said quietly. "I just needed to know you were still with ."
"I was," she said, pressing her hands to his chest. "I am. I just didn’t know how to ask you to stay without losing myself."
Silence stretched between them, heavy but healing.
Then he exhaled slowly.
"You walked into that room today," he said, "and you stood there like my equal. Not as soone I needed to protect. Not as soone who needed to decide for her."
She t his gaze steadily. "I want you with , Zane. I just won’t disappear to make it happen."
A pause.
Then he nodded once.
"Good," he said. "Because I don’t want to win without you."
A shaky laugh escaped her, wet with tears. "We’re terrible at easy love."
He smiled faintly. "But we’re good at honest."
He leaned in slowly, giving her ti to pull away.
She didn’t.
Their lips t gently at first, a kiss full of restraint and mory. Soft. Testing. As if both of them were afraid the mont might fracture if pressed too hard.
Then his hand slid into her hair.
The kiss deepened.
Still tender. Still careful. But heavier now, loaded with everything unsaid. He kissed her again, slower, then again, longer, his breath mingling with hers as if relearning the shape of her.
She pressed closer, fingers curling into his shirt, grounding him the way she always had.
The kiss turned hungry, but not rushed. A need that had waited long enough to be deliberate. His arms wrapped around her fully, lifting her slightly before setting her back down, as if reminding himself she was real.
He rested his forehead against hers again, breathing hard.
"I love you," he said simply.
She closed her eyes. "I love you."
He kissed her once more, deeper this ti, pouring the apology he hadn’t voiced into the way he held her. She answered with equal intensity, her body warm against his, her hands anchoring him as if to say she wasn’t leaving again.
When they finally pulled back, both of them were shaking.
Zane pressed a kiss to her temple, then her cheek, then her lips again, softer now.
"Stay," he murmured.
She smiled through tears. "I’m not going anywhere."
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