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He reappears in the bathroom door, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. “I like that last part. The ‘with me’ part.”

I cast him some judgmental side eye. “And I liked you better when you were naked.”

He rips the towel off and tosses it to the floor with a flourish that makes me laugh, announcing, “Done, milady. What else do you require of your loyal servant?”

Grinning, I say, “More kissing, for sure. And butt squeezes. I’m really into those.”

“Really?” he asks, crossing to the bed with slow deliberate steps that make me feel stalked in the best way. “That’s brilliant because I really enjoy squeezing your butt.”

Glancing up to see Mr. Raily back in action, I sigh and toss my notepad onto the floor by his discarded towel. “That works out, then, doesn’t it?”

“It certainly does,” he says as he pushes me back onto the bed.

We kiss with our teeth bumping—a hazard of smiling while you make out, a thing I’ve never done before—and prove that some things are even better the second time around. It’s so good, in fact, that when the doorbell to the suite rings an hour later, I flinch and scoot farther under the covers, squeaking, “Who’s that?”

“The food,” Sam says, already tugging on his pants and undershirt.

I exhale. “Oh, right. I completely forgot about the food.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll go get it. You can eat naked if you want. I certainly won’t complain.”

“Ew,” I say, grinning as he starts for the bedroom door. “No, I’ll eat clothed, thank you. But I’m wearing the swanky robe in the closet because it’s swanky and I’ve never been to a hotel that has robes before.”

He winks and says, “Stick with me, peach, and it will be all hotels with robes, all the time.”

“I’ll stick with you for your sex skills,” I assure him. “Hotels with robes are just a bonus.”

“Good to hear,” he says, casting a sweet, sexy look my way before he slips out the door to let room service into the main part of the suite.

Ten minutes later, we’re parked on the couch, eating some very fancy grilled seabass with charred broccolini and watchingLabyrinth—one of our favorite movies from the good old days—and everything is right with the world.

As we finish up our entrees and decide to make popcorn to share for the rest of the movie, I’m filled with a wave of emotion so intense I find myself blurting out, “This is it, Sam. The real deal.”

He turns from where he’s tucking the popcorn bag into the microwave in the mini-kitchen and nods. “Yeah, it is.”

And just like that, I know.

I know that I won’t be working from home, at least not for long.

I’m going to move to London where I will fully embrace my new life, my new job and, most importantly, my Sam.

“I love you,” I whisper again as we’re falling asleep later, after round three and a coed bath that was another delightful first. I especially liked the part where Sam massaged my soapy shoulders before moving on to tease my soapy breasts.

“Same,” he says, hugging me closer to his side. “You’re my favorite, Cho. Always have been, always will be.”

I snuggle into him with a happy sigh. “Handsome’s coming with us to London, right? I think he’ll appreciate the good life after everything he’s been through.”

“Of course, he is. But we can wait as long as you want to move. There’s no rush. Or I can permanently relocate to the city if you’d rather stay here long term.”

I lift my sleepy head and give it a slow shake. “No, I’m ready for the next adventure. As long as it’s with you. And Handsome. I feel terrible for getting his hopes up and leaving him behind at the shelter today like that.”

“I’m sure he’ll understand once we explain that Mom and Dad had to get their shit together before we made his adoption official.”

I grin and sink back to his chest. “I think so, too. He seems like a reasonable cat.”

* * *

And he is.When Sam and I pick Handsome up on Friday morning, he’s delighted to see us, blessing us with a big stretch across our laps and loads of purring. We tote him home, getting him settled in his fancy new digs—Sam went all in on a cat climbing tower, oodles of toys, and an odorless litter box—before heading out to the picnic.

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