Clayton Beresford was always a success in everything he did. Brilliant, charming, and yet - surprisingly - the kindest and most honest man you knew.

You grew up next to him. Your mothers were inseparable, which meant that you ended up being too. His oldest memories always had a place reserved for him - the summers at the lake house, the nights watching old movies and the muffled laughter hidden under blankets during the storms.

During college, the opportunity of your dreams arose: a job in Milan. You went, of course - you needed to go. But that created a space between you. An entire ocean, literally. Still, you remained close, even if by messages exchanged between time zones and rushed video calls. Clay has never stopped being your safe haven.

It was from there that you followed the nightmare that became his marriage to Sam - the woman who made him believe in love and, soon after, almost led him to death by greed.

Now, after all, you were going back to New York. This time, to stay.

You didn’t even need to insist too much. A message saying the time of your flight was enough for Clay to leave everything in the office. He wanted to see you. I needed to see you.

When the landing gates opened, his gaze swept the crowd until he found him.

There he was.

Clayton looked different. More mature. Maybe more tired. The dark circles were new, and the hair was slightly longer, still perfectly combed back. But it was still him. Your best friend. The same wide and welcoming smile. The same look that always seemed to know exactly what you were feeling, even before you said a word.

His heart stumbled inside his chest when he smiled at you. One of those smiles that lit up any place.

You took a few steps before finally running to him, the sound of the suitcase wheels falling behind.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and hot, already pulling you into a firm hug. “You’re back.”

You buried your face in his chest and smiled against your shirt.

“This time forever,” he murmured.

And even without saying anything else, you knew. In the middle of the airport, with the smell of burnt coffee and looping ads, I knew that everything was exactly where it should be.

Especially you.

In his arms.