Mister O(78)

And my heart, I swear, it jumps out of my chest into her hands, where she can hold it forever because it belongs to her. I fall deeper into love with her in that moment.

She cups my cheeks and says more before I can even speak. “I didn’t say anything when you told me this morning because I wanted it to be your decision,” she says, her blue eyes fixed on mine. “That’s why I left right away, so you could be free to make the choice that works for you. I didn’t want you to worry about me, or think you had to turn down something you love because of me. But the whole time I was a wreck because I feel the same way you do. And I know how much this means to you, and you mean so much to me, and I want you to know I’d go with you. Because I love you, too.”

I can’t not kiss her. I slant my mouth to hers, brush my lips against hers, and kiss the woman I love, who loves me, too.

New York and autumn. Harper and me. Love and friendship.

I’m so damn happy it can’t be contained. There’s no way I can hold all this joy inside me. We kiss, and we kiss, and we kiss, and I can’t stop. I thread my hands in her hair, the soft, silky strands spilling over my fingers as I kiss her outside Central Park where I’ve met her in the middle.

Only, there’s no need to compromise. There’s no need for her to give up anything for me. When I break the kiss, I’m lightheaded and grinning like the love-struck fool I am.

“You can’t go with me,” I tell her, and her expression morphs as sadness flickers in her eyes.

“Why?” Her voice breaks.

I press a finger to her lips. “Because I’m not going.”

“What?” She swats my chest. “Are you crazy? This is the opportunity of a lifetime.”

I shrug. “Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. I don’t care about the show right now. The show has given me everything I could ever want, but it hasn’t given me you. My whole life, I’ve loved to draw more than anything. It’s been what I love most,” I say, running a hand through her hair. “Until you.”

She trembles. “Stop. That’s crazy.”

I shake my head. “It’s not crazy. It’s true. There can be another show. There won’t be another you.”

She brings her hand to her mouth, like she’s trying to cover up the quivering of her lips. But the tear that slips down her cheek gives her away.

“Harper, I love you more than The Adventures of Mister Orgasm. And I can’t ask you to leave New York.”

“But I would. I would for you. I’m really good at what I do, and there are moms everywhere who’d hire me. One referral and I’d be gold in L.A.”

“I know,” I say softly, and it’s true. She’s right. She could relocate and somehow make it all work. “But I love New York, too. And I want to be with you here in Manhattan. This is our home, and you’re the thing I can’t afford to lose. Not the show.”

“So what happens?”

I shrug. “I told Tyler to turn down the offer. Gino thinks he has me over a barrel, but he doesn’t. Because here’s the thing. Gino’s a jerk, and I don’t like working for him. He thinks he owns me because he found me, but the show is portable. It goes anywhere. Gino might own everything I’ve created so far, but whatever it becomes next”—I stop to tap my temple—“that’s up here. It belongs to me. It’s my creation. And Tyler and I both think someone else will want it. He’s shopping it around.”

“You decided that before you even knew about us? Before I even told you I feel the same?” she asks, astonishment coloring her tone as she curls her hands over my shoulders.

“Sometimes you have to go out on a limb and put your heart on the line. Like you just did for me,” I say softly.

“Like you did for me,” she says, her lips curving up in a smile that matches mine. Those lips—they’re impossible to resist. And I don’t have to resist her anymore . . . not that I ever earned high marks in that class. But now I have free rein to kiss the hell out of her. I capture her lips again with a possessiveness that comes from the certainty that she’s mine.

When we break the kiss, I take her hand and guide her to a bench inside the park, where we sit. “There’s this new idea I have. I want to show you. A certain sexy princess I love was my inspiration.”

She feigns a look of curiosity. “Whoever would this sexy princess be?”

“I had this idea when we went bowling the first time,” I say, and I reach into the envelope and take out the copies I made of the panels I’ve worked on. Though work is hardly the word. Play is better, because drawing Harper always felt fun. “I pictured you as this crazy-hot mechanic.”

I show her the first one. She laughs, and looks at me. “That’s me?”

I nod.

“I’m rather busty,” she says kind of proudly, wiggling her chest.

“Yes, you are.”

“And I’m a mechanic?”

“In this comic strip, you are.”

“You do realize I don’t even know how to drive?”

It’s my turn to laugh. “Like I said, L.A. would be terrible for us. You’re such a New Yorker.”

I show her the rest of the cartoons I drew—the text message tutorial, the lube job joke, the mechanic in the cape, and many more. What began as random doodles has turned into the start of a storyline. Her eyes are wide and filled with something like wonder as she takes her time, studying each one.