The space opens up into a full sitting area first, floor-to-ceiling windows stretching across the back wall, overlooking the entire property. The last of the daylight spills in, soft and warm, catching on everything, the furniture, the textures, the quiet luxury of it all.
And then there’s the bed. It’s enormous. Not just a king, bigger. Custom. Built to hold more.
“That bed is huge,” I say, a little breathless.
Behind me, I hear Jackson laugh softly.
Elijah steps in closer.
“Well,” he says evenly, “if all four of us are sharing it… we needed something that could handle that.”
Heat flickers low in my stomach.
I turn slightly, taking it all in again, slower this time.
“It’s beautiful.”
“It’s yours,” he corrects quietly.
The word hangs there for a moment, and no one moves.
The air shifts.
Subtle.
Heavy.
I feel it before I see it, the way Elijah’s attention flicks briefly toward Zach and Jackson, something silent passing between them, something already decided.
And then his gaze comes back to me.
Steady.
Certain.
“I think,” he says slowly, “we should christen the house.”
A small smile tugs at my mouth.
“Of course you do.”
His hand lifts, brushing lightly along my jaw, his thumb catching at my lower lip.
“And,” he adds, his voice dropping just slightly, “consummate what we just made official.”
My breath catches. The humor lingers for half a second until I realize he’s serious. Until I feel the way the room has changed. The way they’re all looking at me now.
My pulse stutters.
Elijah steps in first.
His hand cups my face fully this time, grounding, claiming, steady as he leans down and kisses me, full of everything he doesn’t say out loud.
“I love you,” he murmurs against my mouth. “I love you so much, angel.”
My chest tightens.
“I’m so glad you’re my wife,” he continues softly. “That we get to do this… together.”
