Chapter 10 - The Last First KissTen days later, the Brooklyn clinic was officially back open.
The front window had been replaced with reinforced, bullet-resistant glass, courtesy of "insurance," as Jerry had cheerfully explained while dropping off a massive bouquet of white lilies at the front desk. Caesar the German Shepherd was lounging contentedly on a plush dog bed in the corner, happily chewing on a brand-new, non-toxic rubber toy that definitely wasn't a criminal ledger.
Jen was wiping down the examination table when the front door chime rang.
She didn't look up immediately. She knew the footsteps before they even reached the counter—heavy, deliberate, and entirely too confident.
"If you're here to tell me that Caesar needs another stomach pump," Jen said, keeping her back turned as she capped a bottle of disinfectant, "the answer is no. I am strictly doing routine checkups from now on."
A pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind, pulling her back against a warm, familiar chest. A chin rested softly on her shoulder.
"What if I'm here to book an appointment for myself?" Nick's voice murmured against her ear, rich with amusement and an underlying current of profound, hard-won peace. "I seem to have developed a chronic condition."
"Oh?" Jen turned in his arms, resting her hands against his chest, looking up into those striking green eyes that had haunted her dreams for fourteen years. "What kind of condition?"
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"Can't stay away from my favorite veterinarian," Nick whispered.
He leaned down, and this time, there was no running, no sudden disappearance, no shadow of a mafia syndicate waiting around the corner. Just the quiet hum of a Brooklyn clinic, a white cat watching from the windowsill like a small, satisfied verdict, and a kiss that finally finished what they had started behind the bleachers a lifetime ago.
