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.

“Remember when you asked me the secret to drawing a great cartoon?” I ask, reminding her.

She looks up from my work. “I do. You said you have to like what you’re drawing.”

“That’s true. But I need to amend that. It helps even more if you love what you’re drawing.” I tap the last one, in which the puppet ogles the mechanic in the cape.

Her lips quirk up in a grin. “Is that you?”

I shrug. “Maybe. I don’t know. But I have a lot in common with this puppet. He has a filthy mind and loves sneaking peeks at a certain gorgeous redhead.”

She cracks up. “I love you, and your dirty cartoons, and your crazy brain, and the fact that you see me as a mechanic even though I’m a magician.”

That last word reminds me of something I’ve never quite figured out when it comes to this woman. “Tell me something. I used to think you weren’t into me because you were never Princess Awkward around me. Does that mean your feelings changed when you said you were”—I pause to sketch air quotes with my fingers—“cured of your affliction?”

She smiles slyly and shakes her head. “Nope.”

“Then when?” I ask curiously.

“I’ve never had trouble talking with you.” She runs her hand through my hair with a look in her eyes that’s full of mischief. “Want to know the secret to that little trick?”

“Yeah, I do. That always kind of baffled me.”

“Pay attention, because I don’t give away how I do my tricks.”

“I’m listening.”

She raises her chin. “Practice.”

“What do you mean?”

Her voice goes soft and vulnerable. “I’ve had years of practice. I’ve liked you since forever. You were my friend when we were younger, and you were always so handsome. I never felt awkward around you, because I’ve known you for so long. Pretending I didn’t have a crush on you was the greatest trick I ever pulled off.”

I let her admission soak in, and it makes sense, in a way, as I flashback to all the compliments she’s given me in the last few weeks. Still, I’m kind of amazed, and awed, too. “Are you for real?”