I don’t see her, and a knot of worry tightens in me.

I poke my head into the ballroom, scanning the seats. She’s not here early. I’m dying to wait on the front steps for her, but I can’t spend any more time on this mission just now.

Because here’s the other thing: commitments matter. A man should keep his promises. I need to stick to mine, so I put my phone away, join the groom, and head to the front of the room.

Wondering where Truly is when she hasn’t appeared by the time the ceremony begins, I take my place by Enzo’s side as he promises to love Valerie for the rest of their lives. As he kisses her, I’m struck by a certainty—he will. I have no doubt, just like I don’t doubt Chip’s love, or Gavin’s, for that matter.

The men I’ve stood for might have needed help in the friend department, but not in the love department. They’ve all seemed true to their hearts, and looking back, I’ve learned something from each of them.

Find a woman you want to spend each day with. Find someone who shares your passion. And give the woman what she wants.

What does Truly want?

As I flash back to the diner, the way she looked when I arrived, how she wanted to share her thoughts with me, I could smack myself. She came to the diner to talk to me about her news, and I made it all about me, me, me. And even when I did, she defended me. She told me The Consummate Wingman had been lucky to have me. And when I said love was distracting, she didn’t answer with a yes.

She answered with It can be distracting, but it can also maybe be something . . .

Something wonderful. Maybe that was what she was going to say before I cut her off.

When I spot her at last in the back row, wiping her eye as Enzo and Valerie slide on rings, I can’t wait to tell her that I agree.

I mouth, “Wait for me.”

She gives a quick, crisp nod that does nothing to ease my mind. But that’s not the point. I don’t get to have my mind eased. I need to ease hers.

I wait till Enzo kisses his bride.

I wait till they’re declared man and wife.

I wait till they walk down the aisle into their happily ever after.

Then I steal time.

I practically run past the rows of people, stopping inches from her. “I was a daft prick today. You should bang my head against the wall.”

“Is that so?” she asks, careful and measured.

“Bricks would fall out of it if you banged it hard enough. Or even pigs, because I was stupid and pigheaded.”

She raises an eyebrow. “There are pigs in your head?”

“There must be, or what other excuse is there for how I behaved? But I know this: when a man has made a mistake, he should own up to it. And I want to own up to mine.”

She’s deliberate, taking her time as she asks, “What mistakes do you think you made?”

“Oh, the list is a mile long. But let’s start at the top. How about the time I said falling in love is absolutely fucking distracting and ruined everything we’ve built? That was a horrible mistake. Because love hasn’t ruined a damn thing. In fact, I think it’s made everything better.” I lock eyes with her, waiting, hoping. Hers seem to sparkle a little more than a moment before.

“What do you think?” I press.

“I do think love can make everything better,” she says, still careful in her tone.

“And another mistake is when you said, Love can be distracting, but it can also maybe be something, and I answered it all wrong. Completely wrong.”

A smile plays across her lips. “Would you like a do-over on that answer?”

“Yes.” I cup her cheek, and she lets me. She doesn’t turn away, even as a woman slides past us to walk out of the aisle and out to the foyer where waitstaff serve sushi appetizers. “Love is distracting, but it’s also something wonderful.”

She seems to fight off a smile—a huge, winning grin. “It is wonderful.”

I thread my hand through her hair, so damn grateful to touch her again. “I need you. I want you. I love you, Truly, and I love you in a way that terrifies me and thrills me too. And I think that scared me more than anything. I thought I’d protected my heart from hurt, but I can’t keep it safe from you. And here’s the thing—I don’t want to.”

She sets her hand on my chest. “I’ll keep it safe for you.”

This woman. My God. My heart thunders in my chest, beating madly with this barrage of emotions. And with emotions come words. “I want to give you everything you want, and everything you need. If that investor can’t realize what he has in front of him, then let me be the one you lean on. Let me be the one you talk to. Let me be the one who helps you figure out what to do next.”

“You’d do that? You want that? Are you sure?”

My answer is straight from the heart. “I should have done that earlier today. I know now that’s what you were looking for, and I want to be the one who supports you. Will you let me?”

She melts against me. “I thought you’d never ask.”

I press my forehead to hers as I learn something new. Sometimes you do need to beg when it comes to asking the woman you love to have you again. But beg like a gentleman. “Then will you please take me back?”

She laughs, and her laughter turns to happy tears. “I don’t want to curl up at the end of the day with work. I want to curl up with you. And we can help each other when work doesn’t go our way. You’re the one I want to depend on, because I’m in love with you.”

My heart soars—out of the hotel, up to the stratosphere, far, far away from me. I no longer have any control of it. Maybe I never did. Maybe it’s simply time to let go of my fears, the true shackles that were holding me back. To let go and love again.

Or really, to love in a whole new way.

Because this is real love. The forever kind.

“I can’t believe I was stupid enough to almost let you get away.” I haul her in for a kiss.

When I break it, she says, “Simple solution: don’t let me get away again.”

“I can do that. I can definitely do that.” I take her hand, and we head into the reception where I give a kick-ass toast.

Valerie thanks me with such earnestness that I scrap any notion that she sabotaged me. The job simply didn’t happen, end of story. There will be others.

But love? As I’ve learned from the men who’ve hired me, you don’t let that slip away.

In fact, you don’t let it get away even if Coldplay is playing.

I groan when Walker puts on a tune from the band that kills eardrums. “Is it Armageddon?” I mouth to him.

He shrugs impishly.

At the head table, Enzo’s eyes light up. “I love Coldplay. They are big in Madrid.”