A ripple of laughter moves down the table, and just like that, everything shifts into motion. Plates are filled. Bowls are passed. I faintly register a playful argument over whether sweet potato or pumpkin pie is the best.
I sit there for a second, just taking it in.
Beneath the table, Troy gives my thigh a reassuring squeeze. “You okay?”
I nod, my chest tightening again. “Yeah,” I say, my voice low. “I’m… yeah.”
Troy leans in, his hand sliding up to cup my cheek, turning my face toward his. His knuckles brush just beneath my eye, like he’s checking for tears I didn’t let fall.
“Thank you,” I say quietly. “For this. For all of it.”
“Wasn’t just me,” he says with a shrug. “Group effort.”
I kiss him—soft and sweet, right there at the head of the table, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. A few teasing whistles and hollers ripple down the table, but they fade into the background. All I can focus on is the warmth of his mouth and the steady presence of him beside me.
When we finally pull apart, I cup his cheek, my chest so full it almost aches.
“I’m really glad you were so persistent about us becoming business partners,” I admit.
“Funny,” he says with a smirk. “Could’ve sworn you once said mixing business and pleasure was a terrible idea.”
I smile, brushing my thumb gently across his cheek. “I take it back,” I murmur as I lean in for another kiss. “Best decision I ever made.”
Epilogue
Troy
Three Years Later
Iwaketothesound of my cat screaming in my ear and the full, heavy weight of my oversized boyfriend sprawled across me.
“Jesus,” I croak, voice rough with sleep as I blink my eyes open.
Cryptid lets out another sharp, demanding meow right by my head.
“Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” I grumble.
Beside—well,on topof—me, Ashton barely stirs. He’s dead asleep, his blond hair a mess against the green sheets, one arm slung lazily over my chest like I’m a body pillow he has no intention of giving up. Sunlight filters in through the half-closed blinds, striping across his bare shoulders, soft and warm.
I try to shift, carefully easing myself out from under him, but he immediately huffs in protest, tightening his hold.
I stifle a laugh. “Seriously?”
He makes a low, annoyed noise, face pressing further into my shoulder.
I lean in and press a kiss to his cheek. “I gotta feed Cryptid. He’s starving. You hear him?”
As if on cue, Cryptid lets out another dramatic wail.
Ashton groans, finally loosening his grip just enough to let me slip free. “Make coffee while you’re up.”
I grin, already swinging my legs off the bed. “Anything for you, Prince Charming.”
Behind me, I hear the soft thump of movement. I glance back just in time to see Cryptid making his way down the little wooden ramp leading to the bed, his steps slow and careful, joints stiff.
My chest tightens a little, like it always does.
Not long after I moved in, Ashton built that ramp with his own two hands when he noticed Cryptid struggling to jump up. I hadn’t even said anything about it. He just saw the problem, and fixed it.
