The water filled slowly, steam curling up the tiles as I added some of the fancy lavender soak. I tied my hair up, slipped into the water, and let it take me under, just enough to quiet the world.
By the time I heard the front door open, my limbs were boneless. The kind of soft that only came after surviving a chaotic, beautiful day.
“Samantha?” Theo’s voice echoed down the hallway.
“In here,” I called out, too blissed out to pretend I wasn’t halfway to heaven in a cloud of bubbles. I heard his steps. Then the creak of the bathroom door. He stood there, loosened his tie around his neck, sleeves rolled up, eyes raking over me as if he had justwalked into a dream he didn’t want to wake from. “Well, this is one hell of a welcome home.”
“Rough day?” I asked, stretching a foot above the waterline with a smirk. He was already undoing the buttons of his shirt. “Not anymore.” I bit back a grin as he stepped out of his clothes, climbed in behind me, and pulled me back against his chest. The heat of him soaked into me, wrapping around every tired muscle, every fragile thought. His arms looped around my waist. His lips pressed against the crook of my neck.
For a while, we didn’t say anything. And then he whispered, “You didn’t hate it, the proposal comment?”
“No,” I whispered. “I kind of loved it. Watching everyone’s jaws hit the floor was deeply satisfying.” He grabbed my head and kissed me. The other hand slipped to my thigh under the water. His fingers felt light on my skin. “Still want this?” he asked quietly, as if he needed to be sure.
I turned fully in his arms, straddling him as the water splashed gently around us. My hands cupped his face. “I do.” And then I kissed him, slow and deep. We stayed there until the bathwater went cold.
Theo’s hands slid beneath the water, gripping my waist as I moved against him. The tension that usually lived between us, always sharp and electric, shifted into something tender. He let me take the lead for once, his eyes dark but steady, patient in the way he waited for what I wanted to give.
The water moved as I pressed closer. Our skin was slick and warm. I could feel his breath hitch when my hips rolled against his, feel the tight restraint in his fingers when I leaned forward and kissed the corner of his mouth. His response was a low hum against my throat as he trailed kisses down my neck. I held his face between my hands, fingers brushing along his jaw.
Everything about him felt both impossibly familiar and endlessly new. We weren’t hiding anymore. No boardroom doors. No dimmed glass.
I lifted myself slightly, guiding him with ease. The water surged between us for one suspended heartbeat, and then he was inside me. Our gasp was shared. A quiet inhale that bound the moment in stillness. He buried his face in my shoulder, hands steadying my hips as we found our rhythm, not rushed or frantic, but slow and certain.
Every movement was a promise; every touch layered in memory and hope and the kind of ache that didn’t just belong to lust. His voice was quiet. Rough. “I love you, Samantha.” I smiled, forehead against his. “I love you too.”
We moved together until nothing else existed but the heat between us and the sound of water lapping gently against porcelain.
Afterward, I curled into him, our skin damp and warm, our breath tangled in the quiet. “I like this version of us,” I murmured.
His arms wrapped tighter around me. “So do I.”
I woke to the scent of something warm and buttery drifting in from the kitchen, sunlight spilling across the hardwood floors like it belonged there, like I did too.
My body still hummed from last night, from the way Theo had held me like I was something rare. Something he didn’t want to let go of. Padding into the kitchen wearing one of his button-down shirts, unbuttoned just enough to be a little bit teasing.
I found him standing barefoot, hair a mess, flipping something golden in a pan. He looked over his shoulder and grinned like I was the sunrise. “You’re awake.”
“You’re cooking,” I teased. “Again.”
“I’m proving I’m a man of many talents.”
“I’ve... seen your talents.” He laughed, low and rough, and handed me a mug of coffee without asking how I take it. He knew now. And maybe that’s what hit me hardest. The way he was already folded into my mornings, my rhythms.
“You okay?” he asked after a beat, eyes meeting mine over the rim of his mug. I nodded, then leaned against the counter, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. “I think I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop. But it’s the morning. You’re here. I’m here. We’re… good.”
Theo stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “You don’t have to keep waiting for things to fall apart. We get to be good.”
God, I wanted to believe that. “I think I’m starting to accept that,” I said quietly.
He kissed my forehead. “You don’t have to rush into believing in us. Let’s take it slow.” I kissed him back, light, sweet, barely there. “You’re making it very easy to believe. But we’re definitely not taking it slow.” We laughed and ate breakfast standing up, stealing bites off each other’s plates and arguing about which pastry place in the city was better. He let me win. I let him think I didn’t notice.
And as I got dressed for the office, watching him move around our apartment, our home, I realized something.
This felt like the beginning of a forever I hadn’t dared to imagine before.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
theo
