Everything changed the moment he stopped hiding.
The moment he confessed.
And in that confession—of grief, of fear, of love—we found each other.
Epilogue
Melissa
Colton’s bathroom has become my favorite hiding place.
Not because it’s absurdly large—though it is—but because it’s quiet.
It’s the only room in the penthouse where the noise of the night dulls into something softer. Where the laughter and music and overlapping conversations blur into a low hum and the world narrows just to only us.
Colton has me backed lightly against the counter, his hands already far too comfortable at my waist for a man who promised he’d behave tonight.
His mouth is warm against my neck, slow and familiar, leaving soft kisses that make me forget, for a moment, that his living room is full of people who would never let me live it down if they knew where we disappeared to.
I laugh, breathy and quiet, as his fingers slide, like they’re testing the boundaries of my dress.
“Colton,” I whisper, trying to sound stern and failing. “We have guests.”
He doesn’t even pretend to be innocent. “I’m aware.”
His lips brush my jaw, then my cheek, and he’s smiling against my skin like he’s amused by me, by us, by the fact that he’s the kind of man who used to live like affection was a liability, but now acts like he can’t go fifteen minutes without touching me.
I angle my face toward his, catching his mouth with mine before he can do anything worse.
The kiss is soft at first, then deepens in the familiar way that makes my knees go stupid.
When I pull back, I’m still smiling.
“We have an announcement,” I remind him, brushing my hands down his chest like I’m smoothing him back into composure. “And if you mess up my lipstick, you’re the one explaining everything to Sawyer.”
That finally gets him to stop.
He lifts his head, eyes dark and bright at the same time. One brow arches. “That’s a threat.”
“It’s a promise.”
He huffs a quiet laugh, then leans forward again like he can’t help himself, pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “I’m not afraid of Sawyer.”
“You should be,” I say. “He’ll interrogate you and then make it weird on purpose.”
Colton’s grin turns slow, dangerous. “I can handle weird.”
“Not his weird.”
He pauses, considering, then sighs as if he’s making a noble sacrifice. “Fine.”
I point at him. “Behave.”
He catches my wrist and pulls me in again before I can step away, kissing me properly this time.
He rests his forehead against mine for a brief moment.
“You’re happy,” he says quietly.
