All In.

“How much do you want to risk for a chance at this?” he asked, his voice low in the dark of his bedroom.

Lying next to each other, across the ocean from her home, he was asking the question she’d been asking herself the entire flight from Melbourne to Auckland. Eleven hours earlier, in Seat A1, with sweaty palms and butterflies in her stomach, she’d told herself this trip was crazy. She had no business getting on a plane for a man who hadn’t committed to her in the past six months. But lying here next to him now, after another airport embrace for the ages - the kind that makes you catch your breath for the first time - this was real. She wasn’t crazy.

“Everything,” she whispered, biting her bottom lip to hide a smile, staring up at the ceiling in the dark of his room.

She turned to find his smile. Her heart stopped again, just for a second. God, that smile. Cheeky and mischievous, but honest, kind, and secure. HG had always been trouble - the best kind - and this moment was no different. They both knew what was at stake.

He laughed, reaching out to hold her face as he kissed her. “We’re going to destroy each other in some way,” he murmured into her mouth.

She was done. Any shred of her fierce independence, self-reliance, or control melted away in that moment. He’d already destroyed her, and it was only just beginning.

She’d heard his voice before she’d seen his smile - sitting at opposite ends of the cafeteria bench, 15 new graduates in between them. The treble of his tenor sent goosebumps down her spine. He was a grad. The Kiwi hire. Typical... she had a type. Dark eyes, dark hair, a maintained three-day growth, broad shoulders, impeccable style.

Taking her gaze off the graduate at the end of the table, she looked back at her “work husband,” who had been talking at her about something the entire time. She’d heard nothing but the graduate’s voice.

Seb smirked. “He’s an untouchable, Jas.”

“Publicly, you’re right, Seb. That would be career suicide,” she replied with a smile that only lived on one side of her lips.

“Privately, you’re going to get into trouble,” Seb rolled his eyes.

She’d been in Melbourne for five months, and they’d become friends over a shared love of cheap wine, her dog, and St. Kilda.

“Seems like it might be worth it...” she said, turning her attention back to the salad she was pushing around her plate.

Her ability to focus for the remainder of the afternoon was gone. She had to do something. Opening up the team’s chat, she typed.

“Seb, darling.”

“I’m not inviting him to drinks this afternoon.”

“What? No, that's not what I was going to ask.”

“You’re lying. Invite him yourself - I’m not your errand boy.”

“Absolutely not. Drive yourself home.”

“Fine, but I’ll have to invite all 12 of them.”

“Of course. It would be weird if you singled out your man crush.”

Seb audibly sighed from four cubicles over. Jasmine laughed. “Love you, Seb.”

“I want no part in any of this mess with you and the Hot Grad. Promise?”

It was done. She would take it from here. Drinks were an easy sell. He came from hospo. Jasmine was in trouble - this was all too easy.

That had been six months ago. Two cities, many hotel rooms, and airport pickups. Fifty-seven different restaurants. Both of them in love with the idea of surprising and one-upping each other with dates and surprises.

Like the night HG had casually suggested they were going to the Rockpool bar in Sydney. Jasmine had changed out of the casual leather pants and white tee she’d arrived in at his hotel. She’d been teasing him with them in photos for months while he’d been away. Useless in this moment - she threw on a blue cutout dress that hugged all the places that made her feel good about herself.

He’d thrown on a blazer but wasn’t dressed to his usual standard. He looked good in a t-shirt and chinos on, but she said nothing about the style of restaurant he’d picked and obviously didn't realise was coming, as they left the apartment on the 47th floor. She knew what was coming. They walked into that lobby, and the sparkle in his eyes said everything she’d wanted it to. Good gosh! The joy, the surprise, and the smirk on his face that reached his kind eyes as she relaxed into her seat across from him. She would spend years trying to top this reaction. She never would.

There had been moments in these last six months when they both thought this wasn’t going anywhere. Like when she put him on a plane from Sydney back to Auckland, and they both said, “No long distance.” But the messages kept flowing, and the smiles and inside jokes grew across oceans.

When he’d missed her 30th birthday for a snowboarding trip with his boys (for his own birthday three days before hers) but sent her a bottle of Torres Jaime I Brandy - a bottle she would continue to buy by the case every year to never run out. She still thought of him when she cracked open a new one. The smile of a history she longed to change. She was sure that was a goodbye of a different kind.

But here she was, across the ocean, his hand in hers, tucked under his pillow. Safe and sound, where it would be every time they slept in the same bed.

Heart changed. Walls melted. In love with the man who’d danced in kitchens while making her pasta. If this is what forever meant, she was all in..