Page 320 of End Game

But his eyes are wet.

My smile disappears. “Ronan. You're going to make me cry harder.”

“That seems inefficient.”

I laugh and cry at the same time, which is deeply unattractive.

His hands slide from my waist to my back, pulling me closer.

This time when I press my face into his chest, it feels different.

Not because anything has changed.

Because something has finally been named.

“I love you,” I say again, because apparently now that I've crossed the terrifying part, I want to say it a thousand times.

His arms tighten. “I love you too.”

No addendum.

No qualification.

Just the words.

I stay against him for another few seconds before finally pulling back. “You realize this makes the robot tripod even more romantic.”

His expression goes flat.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“It is functional.”

“You told me you love me next to it.”

“Those events are unrelated.”

“Romantically functional.”

“That is not a category.”

“It is now.”

“I reject the premise.”

I kiss him.

When I pull away, I'm still smiling. “Happy Valentine's Day.”

He exhales. “Happy manufactured-romantic-capitalism day.”

I kiss him again anyway.

By nine that night, Dex has gone to work, Micah is back, Griffin has sent us a selfie from the ambulance looking deeply unimpressed with humanity, and Ronan has retreated to his bedroom after reaching his people limit.

The house is quieter.