Page 123

“Thank you,” I say, kissing the top of her head gently.

She's quiet for a long moment, eyes trained on where Huckslee helps Hannah stand on her child-sized boogie board. “You’re still insufferably annoying.”

“You still married me,” I shoot back before trailing my lips down her neck.

She exhales softly and arches her back, but Taylor ruins the moment by pelting us with a handful of wet sand.

“Alright, Romeo and Juliet, that's enough. Help us dig a moat for Hannah.

Salem sighs dramatically but grabs my hand. “We'll continue this later.”

Before we can drop down next to them, though, she spins suddenly and lifts the camera around her neck to snap a shot of my face.

I blink, momentarily stunned. “What was that for?”

“Documenting proof that you’re actually alive. For science.”

“Science?”

“Mm-hmm,” she says sweetly, taking another quick photo. “It's not every day I get to meet a real-life zombie. How's it feel to come back from the dead?”

I lunge for the camera, but she darts out of reach. “Salem.”

“What, too soon? I’m just doing my job.”

“You’re not on the clock!”

With another shrug, she aims the lens at Taylor and Christian fighting over sunscreen. “Doesn’t matter. I shoot the moments I don’t want to forget.”

That shuts me up quick.

Just like that, I’m hers all over again, helpless to do anything but follow her over to that castle in the sand like some hopeless tide, always pulled home.

“You’re in charge of the tower,” Taylor informs me, sunglasses holding back his damp hair. “It needs to be structurally sound.”

“It's just sand, dude.” I sit with a grunt and pull my wife down beside me.

Hannah comes sprinting up from the waves at that moment, her floaties flapping as she barrels toward us. “The moat needs water! And the castle must be ocean-protected or it’s not real.”

Christian just sighs and starts kicking a shallow trench toward the shoreline. “Your wish is our command, mi pequeña princesa.”

Salem raises her camera to capture it all—Hannah’s toothy grin next to her two dads, Huck exiting the ocean like Poseidon, Christian and Taylor mid-sand-fight. She follows it up by pulling me in for a selfie, and I plant a kiss on her cheek as soon as the shutter clicks.

It’s way too hot out here, my legs hurt like hell, and I’m low-key terrified that this is all temporary, but for now… I feel like I finally belong somewhere.

Maybe I’ve found that peaceful love I've been searching for. Not the kind you have to fight for, or run from, or earn by nearly dying—even though I did all three. It’s the kind of peace that sneaks up on you, that soft silence in your chest when the people you love most are nearby. The kind that says, "You're allowed to be happy now.”

I wrap my arm around Salem’s waist and tug her into my side, holding tight to that promise we made:

No matter where we go or who we love, we’ll always find our way back to each other.

It doesn’t have to make sense to anyone else. It doesn’t need permission or explanation. This messy, beautiful thing that we’re building is ours.

And maybe that’s the truest form of love there is; living our authentic selves despite the world telling us we're wrong. Maybe the world is wrong for judging how consenting adults choose to be happy.

And I am. Finally. So is Salem.

In the end, that's all that really matters, anyway.