"My Converse are already taking over the entryway," she says.
"I noticed."
"Slothra lives on the couch now."
"She does."
Her lips twitch. "Gordie sleeps on my side of the bed more than yours."
"That's a betrayal I'm still processing."
She grins and pushes up to kiss me. It's soft and slow and tastes like toothpaste and something sweeter than that. My Mollie’s a sweet fucking girl. When she pulls back, her expression is the one I fell in love with three and a half years ago. Open, certain, a little bit mischievous.
"Okay," she says. "I'll stay."
"Yeah?"
"But I'm not marrying you yet, so don't get any ideas."
"I wouldn't dream of it." I would.
"Liar."
I kiss her forehead and she settles back against my chest. Gordie grunts at the foot of the bed and adjusts himself so that he's lying across both of our feet. Theweight of him is familiar and grounding and slightly too warm.
My girl is going to live with me. Officially, permanently, no more pretending it's temporary. Her stuff is going to stay in my drawers, and her candle is going to keep burning in the evenings, and her aerial silks are going to stay in the doorframe. And every morning I'm going to wake up exactly like I did today, pressed against her, half asleep, already reaching for her.
One day, I'm going to give this girl everything she deserves. Every single thing she's been too afraid to ask for, and too stubborn to admit she wants. The ring, the house, the family, the future.
All of it. Every bit.
And I can’t wait.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Mollie
My week has been a masterclass in things I never wanted to experience. First, a two-hour meeting with Juliet and the Havoc's HR department about my relationship with Alex. Juliet was kind about it, but the HR woman kept using phrases likeconflict of interestandorganizational optics. In turn, I kept thinking about how I'd rather be literally anywhere else on the planet.
Then my parents called.
They saw the TikTok. My mom cried for forty-five minutes on FaceTime while my dad sat behind her with an expression that I can only describe as like a man watching his house burn down from across the street. They want to come up, talk, and see me in person.
I take back what I said about the work meeting. It was way preferable to this.
My mom is texting, still upset, and using a lot of all caps. I don’t really want to bring her here, into Alex’s house, but… there’s no place I want to go in public. And we can’t do it at Beck’s house because he’ll refuse to let Alex come.
Rock, meet hard place.
"Alex?" I call upstairs.
He appears at the top of the stairs in sweatpants and nothing else, his dark hair sticking up on one side. He looksedible. "Yeah?"
"Is it okay if my family comes over today? My parents want to talk about the Savard stuff. I'd rather do it here than at a restaurant where my mom will ugly cry in front of strangers."
He gives me a look like I just asked him if water is wet. "Freckles, it's your house too. It has been since the day you piled your Converse by the door."
“Really? Even if Beck comes?”
