Maria hadn’t intended to commit herself so soon.
During this press junket, she’d meant to offer sex and companionship to Peter, but not her heart. Not until she knew for certain he’d finally put her—putthem—first in his life, above even work, and could give her what she actually needed, not just what he found easiest to offer.
If he had, if he could, she’d take some of the Hollywood roles being offered to her and stay in LA with him. If not... well, she hadn’t wanted to think about it. But she always had another life waiting for her back in Sweden, with family and satisfying work and sex whenever that particular itch presented itself for scratching.
Not romantic love, though. Not Peter.
Until now, she’d been unsure what to do, because over the years, hehadoccasionally put his professional reputation at mild risk for her sake. But when he discussed his future, work still seemed to be the organizing principle. The central, immovable obstacle around which everything else had to bend, including the people he cared about.
But the longer Peter spoke tonight, the more her remaining qualms faded.
Here were the corner pieces of his puzzle, at long last. And nowthat he’d finally given them to her, she could put everything else together without much trouble.
OfcoursePeter instinctively gravitated to the edges of every group, no matter how desperately he needed companionship and affection. He’d been installed on the outskirts of even his own goddamn father’s life. He was used to isolation. Used to not belonging. Used to being misunderstood, so what would be the point of speaking, anyway? Why even try to find friends?
As if that weren’t bad enough, Daniel had then proceeded to make the same fucking mistakes a second time, prioritizing his own needs, his own desire for security, above helping his family get what they actually wanted. What would make his son happy, as nothing in Peter’s life had since the day his mother died.
A chance to live outside his father’s orbit. A profession that fulfilled him.
No wonder Peter hadn’t been willing to risk the role of Cyprian. It wasn’t only a long-overdue, triumphant rebuke to Anne, who hadn’t been willing to risk a future with him. It was also the final, best proof he could offer his father—and maybe even himself—that he hadn’t made a mistake when he climbed on that LA-bound bus so long ago. It was the highest-profile role of his career, one that offered a steady, generous income and the sort of fame that couldn’t be denied. Not by his ex-fiancée. Not even by a man who wanted to deny it with all his heart, if only so his son would move back home at last and help fill part of the gaping, decades-old hole his wife’s death had left in his life.
If Peter’s work had been absolutely everything to him, tonight’s revelations told her why.
But now he had genuine friends among hisGatescolleagues, people who sought his company and would do almost anythingfor him. He had the critical respect, fan following, and financial security he’d been chasing his entire career.
He had her. Gods above, did he have her.
In time, he’d have her family too, because they adored him. After such extensive experience, it hadn’t taken them long to recognize another lost, lonely soul bursting with love to give. One who’d gone far too long without someone in his life to take that love and return it in kind.
They’d adopt him. Emotionally, if not legally, and she wouldn’t even put the latter past them. Filip was a lawyer, after all.
Peter’s life had changed in the past six years, and he’d changed with it. Work would always remain important to him, because he loved acting, but it wasn’t his entire existence anymore. His world and its possibilities had expanded spectacularly since that terrible conversation in a sunbaked LA parking lot.
He had room for her now.
She could be the new center of that world.
So here she was. Sitting by a lakeshore on a clear spring evening in Wisconsin, her hands cradled in his, the quiet shush of waves a reassurance, his warm body beside hers a bulwark against any cold that might come her way.
She now knew his past; she’d been at his side for much of his present; and she could take an informed guess as to what his future might hold. And with that new understanding in mind, she also knew what to do. Finally.
She loved him. Of course she loved him. If she’d believed she could offer her closest friend and most trusted colleague her body and all her time without handing him her heart too, she was just as much aknäppgökas he was.
Luckily for them both, she now trusted him with that heart.Which meant she had nothing left to conceal and everything to share with him.
Because he loved her too, whether he’d admitted it to himself or not.
Her doubts were gone. It was time to celebrate.
“Someone like me,” she repeated. “I love you, Peter. You’re my belovedskitstövel. Do you want me to find a house in Hollywood, or would you rather I stay with you?”
Celebrations and logistics weren’t mutually exclusive, right? Because in approximately five days, their whirlwind press junket would be over, and they’d be flying into LA, the city where she intended to remain for the foreseeable future. Also the city where she currently had nowhere to stay, since there’d been no point in arranging for a hotel or a rental there when she might be returning to Sweden instead.
If Peter wasn’t ready to live together, fine. But either way, she needed a home. One not located near Stockholm.
His lips still pressed to her hands, the man of the hour appeared to have frozen as solid as Lake Mendota evidently did in winter. He was blinking rather rapidly, though, so she hadn’t killed him with her pronouncement of love. She considered that a good omen.
After a few moments, he sort of gasped against her knuckles, inhaling sharply, which was when she realized he’d actually stopped breathing for a while.