Bishop released his hold as I stood.

“Thank you.” I shot a look at the man behind me and said to Vanessa, “You better believe I’ll take you up on it sometime.”

“We’ll hold you to it,” Charlie said. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me. “If you ever need to talk, I’m here.”

I squeezed her and then stepped back into the circle of Bishop’s arms, and my heart was near to bursting. I’d never had this. The overwhelming support. Friendship. Love.

It truly was everything.

We climbed off the back of Bishop’s bike, and I unlocked the gate to the courtyard at my place. Harriet was coming out her back door as Bishop pushed his bike inside.

She clapped her hands. “I’m so glad I caught you! I wanted to take one last look at the place before I jet off.”

“Jet off?” I asked.

“In the flurry of all your excitement, I must have forgotten to tell you. I’m headed to Machu Picchu to expand my landscape watercolor skills. After that, I’m going to hug a few tortoises in the Galapagos and then see those crazy heads at Easter Island. I’ve got a lot to check off my list before I kick the bucket.” She came forward and wrapped me in a hug. “Now, keep yourself from getting kidnapped again while I’m gone. I don’t want to miss it.”

From inside, her front buzzer sounded.

“That’s my car to the airport. I’ll see you kids soon.”

“Safe trip, ma’am.”

“Not too safe, I hope. Life is all about taking chances.” Harriet winked, whirled around, and disappeared inside.

Bishop looked down at me. “She’s a nut, but she’s a cool old lady.”

I was thinking the exact same thing. Her comment about checking things off her list made me think of all the ones I had pinned to my bulletin board in my New York apartment.

“And here you probably thought I was crazy with my list of things to check off.”

He shook his head. “Not at all. Why not experience everything you can?”

It was the opening I needed. “I have at least dozen more lists. Cities all over the world. By the time I’m Harriet’s age, I want to check everything off.”

Bishop studied me. “Is that right?”

I nodded.

“Then I guess we’re going to have to get our hands on those lists so we can start planning.”

A smile stretched the corners of my lips. “Really?”

Bishop slid a hand under my hair and curled it around the back of my neck. “A lifetime of adventures with the most amazing woman I’ve ever met? Sign me up. I’m ready.”

I threw my arms around his neck and pressed my lips to his. When I pulled back, I met his green gaze. “So, about this date . . . what are we doing?”

“You’ll find out when we get there.”

By the end of the night, Bishop had inked us both with new tattoos—his was a cupcake, worked into the sleeve on his left arm, closer to his heart, he said. Mine was a beautiful bird on my shoulder blade, flying free. No more gilded cages or clipped wings for me.

I also finally checked off the last thing on my New Orleans Must Do list. I learned how to say I love you in Cajun.

Six months later

“A FEDERAL COURT HAS FOUND Dominic Casso not guilty of all pending charges. Should we start calling him Teflon Dom?” a news anchor asked his co-host.

“I don’t know how he did it. I really, truly don’t,” Eden whispered from beside me on the couch with her gaze glued to the TV.

“He successfully pinned everything on Vin and Angelo, who didn’t exactly have a chance to refute it.”

“I’m not sad about it. I don’t know what that says about me as a person, but I’m not sad at all.”

I pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You don’t need to be sad. Angelo was a creepy fuck.”

We’d found more and more evidence of that once we’d gone back to New York and cleaned out Eden’s apartment. That was, after the Feds had let us in. Thankfully, we knew people who knew people.

Cameras had been installed in every room, including the bathroom, as well as in her office at the spa.

The head of one of the crime families who was supposedly engaged in the so-called “power struggle” that had been happening to take control of the Casso empire had come forward. He confessed to Dom that it had all been orchestrated by Vincent with Angelo’s help. Dom had cleaned house, identifying more associates and soldiers on Vincent’s separate payroll.

I hadn’t pushed too hard for more answers because, quite frankly, I wanted Eden as far away from the entire thing as possible.

Her father agreed, and had given his blessing.

Not only did he not want me dead, he wanted me very much alive for Eden. I didn’t want him dead either. Enough blood had been shed.

“Did you check the mail I left on the counter? There was a big envelope for you.”

She shook her head and pushed off the couch. When she made it to the counter, she lifted it. “This one?”

“Yeah.”

Eden tore it open. “What the hell?”

I stood and strode toward her. “What is it?”

She handed me a piece of paper. “A deed.”

“What?”

I grabbed the envelope, which didn’t appear to have a return address, and dumped out the rest of the contents on the counter. A picture, a brochure, and a set of keys fell out.

It was a house in the French Quarter. The picture didn’t look like much, but the brochure was a whole different story. From the outside, it looked like a simple brick building, but the pictures of the inside showed a completely renovated townhouse. The ten thousand dollar a square foot kind.

The deed was in both our names.

Eden flipped the picture over, and a note was stuck to the back.

An early wedding present. Don’t keep my girl living in sin for too long, Bishop.

—DC

Eden’s eyes practically bulged out of her head. “Holy shit. My dad just gave us a townhouse. In the Quarter. You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I thought about the ring I’d bought last week at an antique store on Conti Street and had been carrying everywhere with me since. I shook my head. How did the old man do it?