The Intern (The Dalton Family #4)(92)

Fuck, I can’t get enough of this girl.

She slowly pulled away, resting her forehead against mine. “I know I already said this, but I’m so happy you’re here.” She leaned back, taking me in. “Part of me still can’t even believe it. Or that”—she ran her thumb across my mouth—“I can kiss this whenever I want.”

“It’s yours, Hannah.”

She was quiet for a few moments. “I hope that’s still true when I’m in studying hell and days go by without us seeing each other.” The emotion I’d seen earlier returned to her face. “The next few months are going to be hard, Declan.”

I gripped her back, pulling her closer. “I know what you’re about to go through, and I assure you, nothing is going to change between us.”

She searched my eyes. “What if I can only see you once or twice a week?” She took a breath. “Or less?”

“Well, I can’t promise I won’t turn into a growling asshole”—I gripped her harder—“but I can promise we’ll get through it and we’ll be fine. There’s no reason for you to worry.” I kissed her. “I mean it.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

“Now, open your gift.”

She reached inside the bag, taking out the long, rectangular box. The lid then came off, and she moved the tissue paper aside, that glow returning to her face the moment she realized it was a briefcase.

Her hand went over her mouth. “Oh my God, it’s beautiful.”

“There’s a story behind this present.” I waited for her eyes to lock with mine before I continued, “When I was a kid, my parents took me on vacation to Maine. We were walking through Old Port, a quaint section in Portland, and we came across this small store that specialized in handmade leather goods. I’ll never forget when I passed that window, seeing this huge—at least what had seemed huge at the time—briefcase inside. I made my parents stop and go in and look at it with me, and I said to them, ‘When I graduate law school, I want a briefcase just like that one.’ ” My fingers slid into her hair, holding the back of her head. “Right before I graduated, my father looked up the store. They were still in business, and he asked them to make me a briefcase.”

“It’s the one you use now, isn’t it? The one that has your initials next to the lock?”

I nodded. “I reached out to the owner a few weeks ago, and I had him make this for you.”

Her eyes got so big. “I can’t believe you had this made just for me.”

I rubbed my fingers over the HD that I’d had engraved next to the lock. I then opened the top, so she could see the way I’d customized the interior. “I wanted you to have something that was made just for you. Something with superior craftsmanship. That’ll last as long as you want it to.”

“Declan …” She ran her hand over each section, the flaps of organization I’d had added to hold her pens and notebooks and files and tablet. She finally landed on the bottom, where the date of her graduation was engraved along with the USC logo. “This is … I don’t even know what to say.” She glanced up. “It’s the nicest, most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me.”

My hand moved to her cheek, holding her steady. “Every time you walk into a courtroom is going to feel different. Some days, you’re going to feel confident as hell. Some days, you’re going to wish you’d had another week to prepare. Some cases are going to be automatic wins. Some, you’re going to have to fight like hell. But one thing will remain consistent, and that’s your presentation—the suit covering your body, the expression locked on your face, and the briefcase in your hand.” I leaned my face close to hers. “If you ever need it—and I’m not saying you will, but if you do—that handle can feel like my fingers, and you can squeeze it as hard as you need to, baby, and I’ll always be there for you.”

She circled her arms around me, aligning our bodies, burying her face in my neck.

When she held on, she clutched me so fucking tightly.

“I love you, Hannah.”

“I love you more,” she whispered back.





TWENTY-EIGHT





HANNAH





“I imagined this moment,” I whispered to Declan, squeezing his hand as he stood next to me, “when I was in the depths of studying and my eyes just wanted to close and I wanted to throw my books and give up.” I turned to him. “Whenever I got to that point, I would think of us, here, and all this beauty. That’s what drove me to keep going.”

“And now that you’re here?”

A breeze whipped past my face, bringing with it a scent that I absolutely loved—an indescribable freshness that I smelled every time I stepped into the mountains. “It’s even better the second time.”

He released my hand and wrapped his arm around me, pulling me against the side of his body. His lips pressed into the top of my head while we both took in this view.

A view we’d been discussing since the last time we had been here.

A view we wanted to have more time to appreciate.

On my first day of studying, Declan had sent me an email. The itinerary it’d outlined was a surprise, as was the whole trip, his message saying I just needed to hang in there, that the reward would be worth the twelve weeks of hell I was about to go through. He had us leaving two days after I sat for the bar. We would start in Big Sky, Montana, and then we’d spend several days in Yellowstone before ending the adventure in Jackson Hole, Wyoming.