Sawyer blinks. “You’re brave.”
I laugh. “I’ve seen the sock situation. I’ll survive.”
Colton leans in, murmuring, “I’ve improved.”
“You have not,” Aubrey says cheerfully.
The teasing continues, easy and affectionate, until Colton lifts his glass.
“I don’t love attention,” he says. “Which all of you know.”
A chorus of agreement fills the room.
“But,” he adds, glancing down at me with an expression so open that it still catches me off guard, “this is worth it.”
The room softens.
Dean raises his glass. “To Melissa. For making our friend human.”
Sawyer follows immediately. “And to Colton, for finally joining the land of the emotionally available.”
Colton shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “Don’t get used to it.”
We clink glasses, laughter and warmth wrapping around us like a second skin.
For the first time, it really hits me how full this room is. Not just with people, but with connection and history. With futures unfolding in quiet, ordinary ways.
I feel like I’m standing inside something solid. Something chosen.
As the noise swells again and conversations splinter off into smaller groups, Kayla drifts toward me, her eyes glittering with far too much curiosity.
She hooks her arm through mine and leans in conspiratorially. “So, eloped. Married. You casually dropped all that like it’s nothing.”
I smile. “It feels like everything.”
Her grin turns sly. “You know what else this means, right?”
I arch a brow. “Do I want to?”
“Probably not,” she says cheerfully. “But we need to talk. Later.”
I laugh, already knowing whatever she’s about to propose will be ridiculous.
Colton’s hand finds the small of my back again, steady and familiar. He presses a kiss to my temple, quiet and unassuming, like he doesn’t need anyone else to see it to know it matters.
And for once, neither of us feels like hiding.
Later, the champagne has been refilled twice, Aubrey has stolen Colton away to interrogate him about rings and timing and why she wasn’t told immediately, and Sawyer has somehow maneuvered himself onto the floor near Lincoln’s kid and is now losing spectacularly at a game involving crayons.
The night has settled into that comfortable hum where everyone is relaxed, conversations overlapping without urgency. I’m leaning against the counter with Kayla, watching Colton laugh at something Dean said, his shoulders loose in a way that still feels new.
Kayla nudges me with her elbow. “So,” she says lightly, “married. Going to live in a penthouse. No big deal.”
I smile, but there’s a small knot forming in my stomach
“Hey,” I say, lowering my voice. “Can we talk for a second?”
Her brows lift. “That sounds ominous.”
