Page 120 of Level Up for Love

In some ways, it’s just another competition.

“It’s been…a lot to adapt to, but it feels good. It feels right,” I say. “I’m still getting used to it, but Wesley has been great. Mona, too.” And therapy, I think wryly, though I don’t say that part out loud. I probably could have used that a long time ago—but hey, it’s helping now, and that’s what matters.

“I know it’s a lot of big changes, Reagan, but I think this really is the perfect opportunity for you. I can’t wait to see what comes next.”

I feel a soft swell of warmth in my chest. I allow it; I’ve been working on not shoving it down under old feelings of bitter resentment. “Thanks, Dad.” I finally push through the doors of my apartment building, and I pause in front of the elevators. “Well, Wes and I have plans tonight, but thanks for the call.”

“Another D&D game?”

I smile to myself. “Maybe.”

“Have fun, then. Love you.”

“Bye.”

After the ride up and the long walk down the carpeted hallway, I finally arrive at our apartment, unlock the door, and shoulder my way inside. I’m immediately enveloped in the scent of baking sourdough—the housewarming starter Mona gifted us, no doubt—and the warmth of Wesley’s strong, flour-specked arms.

“Hey, baby,” he says into my hair. “Got lost?”

“Not this time,” I say, even though I have several times.

“I thought I’d have to tell them you chickened out.”

I pull back enough to look him in his eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

He presses his lips to my forehead, then the corner of my mouth. “I wouldn’t,” he says fondly.

For the next half hour, I scramble through putting away our groceries while Wesley finishes baking the bread and cooking Lynn’s French onion soup recipe. If I’d known he had learned such incredible cooking skills from her, I wouldn’t have waffled on the moving decision for as long as I had.

Finally, he carries the dishes into our office, where our desks are nestled cozily side by side. I follow behind him and set down opened cans of beer from our new favorite microbrewery at each of our keyboards.

“I got everything ready for you,” he says. Our old Discord and the new virtual D&D platform we built—together—are already open on my screen.

When Wes pitched the new campaign to everyone, it hadn’t been a question of whether they wanted to play, but when. We’d introduced them to the platform, and over the last few weeks, they’d sent through all of their character sheets.

All that’s left is to play.

Without sitting down, I lean over the desk to toy with some of the settings on the platform, shuffle through my brand-new notebook, and scroll down a document pulled up on my second monitor until—

With two hands on my shoulders, Wesley gently pulls me back upright and spins me until I’m facing him.

“Hey, hey. Stop fussing. Everything’s already perfect.” His eyes are tender, but that damned dimple betrays his amusement at my antics. “I love you. They love you. It’s going to go great, all right?”

“Are you just saying that so I won’t yell again?” I tease.

He smooths the hair out of my face so he can brush his lips against the arch of my eyebrow. “If anyone’s going to be yelling, it’ll be me.”

I laugh, squeeze his hands, then settle into my desk chair. We both slip on our headsets.

As I log in to the call, I’m greeted by the grinning faces of our friends, arranged in four boxes on the screen: Arthur sits in his home office with an honest-to-god shield mounted on the wall behind him; Colin is in his same New Haven apartment, but with his hair newly cut into a shaggy mullet (it suits him alarmingly well); and Mona and Shay squeeze together on their couch so that we can see both of their faces on Mona’s laptop screen.

“We brought a guest!” Shay announces.

I freeze a little. I hadn’t prepared for—

With a grin, Mona lifts a tiny black kitten with brilliant green eyes toward the camera. As soon as their view fills with its round little head, it yowls in protest.

“We named her Moss! Look at her eyes!” Mona’s voice has gone so high-pitched it’s nearly in the register only dogs can hear.