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“Is it weird that I sorta love that you’ve been watching me?”
His hair is mussed to perfection, giving him that bed head look others take patience and the perfect amount of dry wax to achieve. I cup his face and run my thumb between his brow, arching out to his temple. He looks a decade younger, like all of that pain and stress he’s been carrying around is wiped away. I meet his twinkling eyes, and he raises one brow at me.
“You’re staring again.”
I’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t staring right back, eyes scanning over my face like he’s memorizing every detail. I want to tell him that I’m not going anywhere, that he caught me and now he’s stuck with me forever. That I’m going to spend my entire life doing my best to annoy him until he drops his hard shell for good. At least around me. Instead of saying any of that, I lean up and press my mouth to his, pushing all my feelings into that single kiss. He takes over kissing me slowly, his mouth softer than I’d ever imagined.
He breaks the kiss, resting his forehead on mine, and touches our noses together. “I love you.”
His grip tightens slightly. “Misty Everette, will you marry me again? This time, with your friends, my family, and hundreds of other guests. I know you won’t let me buy you one, so I want to help you make the perfect dress. One so long we need four people to hold the train. I want to scream in front of a crowd that I love you with every ounce of my being and that I am the lucky fucker who gets to keep you.”
I bite back my smirk, bubbles of giddiness popping in my chest. I hum as if there’s any possible answer but yes. “Will your mom be invited?”
His mouth grows closer to mine, his eyes narrow. “Only if she apologizes to your satisfaction.”
I brush his hair back from his face. “What if I don’t want a big wedding and I just want it to be my friends and your brothers?”
He lowers, lips brushing mine. “I’ll give you anything you want, Nymph. Just ask.”
“I love you.” I lift up to kiss him, and he pulls back.
“And?” He gives me a look that says he’ll happily wait all day.
“And I’d be honored to marry you. Again.”
He captures my mouth in a kiss so tender it steals my breath away. His hands map out my body, taking their time to worship every inch of me. My alarm goes off again, but I’m too lost to his touch to care.
Forty-five minutes later, I’m still wrapped in his arms. I’m cocooned in a place I never want to leave, but I know if I don’t get up now, there’s no leaving this bed today.
I place a chaste kiss on his chest and push up. “I have to get up. I’m already going to be late.”
“Fine,” he huffs, rolling onto his back. “I’ve been putting off checking in with Matthias.” He twists my bracelet around my wrist. “I’ll see you later.
I run my finger along the smooth metal that’s brought me comfort, fiddling with it countless times. “Is this really a tracker?”
I should be disgusted—hell, terrified—but all I am is elated. “Of course it is. You know, you’re basically a walking red flag.”
He smirks. “You love that about me.”
Fuck it. “I really do.”
I sent the girls a group chat message saying I was running late, giving me enough time to shower and put myself into some semblance of put together. I chose a light green sundress that lands just below my knees and twisted my hair up in a claw clip, too exhausted to pull off anything else.
The group chat immediately blew up with a dozen lewd comments about Damon and me disappearing off the face of the Earth for the last few days.
The sun beams warmth down on me as I walk toward the cafe where I’m meeting the girls. There’s an overwhelming lightness filling my chest, an almost giddy happiness overtaking my every sense. Everything feels perfect in the world.
Sometimes it’s hard to spot the pretty in a city, but the birds are chirping, and the leaves are turning to a rusty red, giving a hint of the fall to come. Soon, it’ll be sweater weather, filled with pumpkin spice lattes and Ugg boots. I cannot wait to see Damon’s face when I pull out my Snuggie covered in cat faces.
There’s a lady up the sidewalk from me. She can’t be more than a few years older. Her clothes fit her perfectly, the seams crisp and pressed, making her stand out like a sore thumb in this neighborhood. And by the way she’s looking at her phone, then up and down the street, she’s clearly out of her comfort zone.
“Do you know where you’re going?” I give her my friendliest smile, knowing people do not trust strangers out here, and just hope that my being another woman will help ease that anxiety.
She’s wearing her own smile, but it’s tight, curved too high to the right, like there’s something wrong to it. Like it wants to be three times the size, but she’s holding it back.
“Yeah, sorry, I think I got off the bus at the wrong stop.”
I give her outfit another glance over, spotting her Hermès purse, and tension grows in my spine. This is not the type of lady that takes the bus.
