“I’m not going to last, sweetheart.”
I nod. “I’m almost there. Keep flicking my clit, fuck me as deep as you’ll go.”
He does, thrusting with just enough force that I come around him two strokes later, crying his name in soft, breathy sounds. Then he plops on top of me, the cool press of hisnipple ring against my overheated skin. He drags his cock back and forth, shallow at first, just the widest part of him between my pussy lips. It’s slow at first, needing more from him, I drag my thigh up until I hook my knee over his hip, pushing him inside me all the way in. He sucks on my neck, pulling back and forth against the right spot inside of me. He pinches my clit between his fingers and I come around him, his name on my lips. His thrusts keep going long and deep through my orgasm. Until he finishes with a low broken sound against my shoulder, pulsing his pleasure as he goes deep again, spilling rope after rope of his climax into me.
Breathless still, he kisses his way up my chest and neck until he plunges his tongue in my mouth.
“That was amazing,” he whispers.
I chuckle. “That’s how it’s going to be. Always amazing.”
“I don’t doubt that,” he coos. “Endgame?”
“And beyond.”
My fears haven’t disappeared. Each of them is tangled somewhere in the depth of my love for Nate, in the way I find myself tracking how often he gives me that smile of his. But I’m not racing ahead anymore. I won’t forget to nurture the now because I’m afraid of losing it. I stay in it—in him, in us—savoring the foundation we spent so long learning how to build.
Epilogue 2
HIS QUESTION
Nate
Eleven Months Later
I’m loving visitingHouse on the Rock with Robyn. Nothing makes any sense, it’s all illusions and architectural wonders, unique collections. Everything’s both random and carefully curated. That’s the point of it. And it’s only better than finally visiting it because I’ve finally visited it with my soon-to-be fiancée. If I can find the guts to get on one knee. And I might pass out before I actually do it. We’re here, where I asked them to keep people out for about fifteen minutes so it could just be the two of us.
At the entrance, a simple wooden sign reads The Infinity Room, understated and a little playful. A wooden bench sits off to one side, and a decorative wagon wheel leans nearby, grounding the space in rustic detail. An employee in a green apron nods when he sees my “Frank Lloyd Wright Rules” pin.
Behind the wooden sign, everything funnels forward toward a bright vanishing point, making the room feel endless, suspended, and slightly disorienting. It’s a long,enclosed passageway built almost entirely of wood and glass, more corridor than room despite the name. The ceiling peaks into a shallow gable, its exposed beams marching forward in tight, repeating triangles that pull your eye straight down the length of the space. The walls tilt slightly inward, lined with slanted window panels that create a subtle sense of imbalance, as if the structure is leaning into motion rather than resisting it.
Marching into the glass corridor, I hold Robyn’s hand, and we walk to the far end. With every step, the floor tilts enough to make my calves tense. My brain recalibrates with never-ending possibilities ahead of us. No railings or visible support. Just trust that if you got the foundation solid enough, the structure will hold.
The wind lifts a few strands of her hair, and she laughs under her breath, the sound half awe, half disbelief. “This is obscene,” she says. “I love it.”
“Want to try to make a cake out of it?” In my pocket, clutched around my fist, my grandmother’s ring burns like a live coal.
It’s not heavy. It’s not flashy. White gold worn thin at the band, the diamond modest, the kind of ring that’s weathered storms and withstood cracks. I may not have bought it for her, but it’s perfect for her, us, anyway. I haven’t been able to stop brushing the velvet box since I slid it into my jeans this morning. Every cell in my body knows I’m going to do something important, and it’s keeping me on edge so I don’t fuck it up.
My phone buzzes. I won’t let go of Robyn’s hand, so I have to free the ring.
Mom:Did you do it yet???
I don’t even answer. If I do, she’ll call, and if she calls, she’ll cry, and if she cries, I might lose my nerve. I shove the phone back into my pocket, immediately regretting the decision because it buzzes again, harder against my thigh.
Julian:If you chicken out, I will personally see that someone else does. Just to annoy the shit out of you.
Andrzej:Remember: you bend one knee. And breathe so you don’t pass out. You don’t want to be that guy. Also, if she says no, I’m keeping her this time. She has better appreciation for Polish pastries.
I snort before I can stop myself. Everyone’s running out of patience, and I’m running out of nerves.
Robyn turns, eyebrow lifting. “What?”
“Nothing,” I say, which is the biggest lie I’ve told.
She comes closer, tilting her head, studying my face the way she does when she’s clocked something. Her eyes flick to my hands, empty. To my pocket. Back to my face.
Oh. She knows.I’m going tokillJulian.
