Her throat moves as she swallows.
“This isn’t about control,” I add. “Or obligation. And it’s not me trying to impress you.”
She searches my face, clearly weighing whether to believe me.
“I want to do this for you,” I continue. “For us. I finally have someone I want to enjoy it with.”
The room feels still, like it’s waiting.
She lets out a slow breath. “I don’t want to feel like I owe you anything.”
“You don’t,” I say firmly. “You don’t owe me a damn thing. Just come with me.”
She studies me for a long moment.
Then she smiles softly. “Okay,” she says. “But I’m paying for something.”
I laugh, the sound warm and unrestrained. “Of course you are.”
She points a finger at me. “Nonnegotiable.”
“Fine,” I concede. “You can buy the gelato.”
She laughs, leaning into me again, her head resting against my shoulder like it belongs there.
For so long, my life has been built around survival but sitting here with her as we plan a future that exists purely for joy, I feel hope bloom in my chest.
Hope.
I look down at her, at the woman who didn’t demand promises or perfection, only honesty and presence.
Two weeks ago, I was terrified of what letting her see me would cost. Now, I’m starting to understand what hiding from life has already taken.
“I haven’t done this before,” I admit quietly.
She tilts her head to look up at me. “Done what?”
“Wanted a future,” I say. “Instead of just enduring the present.”
Her expression softens.
“Well,” she says gently, “we can start with wine.”
I smile, pressing a kiss into her hair, breathing her in.
For the first time in a long time, the road ahead doesn’t feel like a storm to brace for.
It feels like a future to walk toward. Together.
Chapter Forty-One
Colton
Sunday mornings with Melissa feel dangerous.
Not in a reckless way. In the quiet, insidious way that makes you forget you ever built walls in the first place.
She’s curled into my side on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, wearing her comfy cream sweatpants and white shirt. The city outside is muted today, slower on Sundays, like it’s exhaling with us. A mug of coffee sits forgotten on the table, steam long gone, and something low and meaningless hums from the television.
