“Maybe a wedding,” he says, voice rough but sure. “One you deserve. Big or small, I don't care. As long as it’s you at the end of the aisle.”
I press my hand against his chest, feeling his heart hammer against my palm.
“And babies,” he adds, kissing the tip of my nose. “As many as you’ll let me give you.”
Tears slip free before I can stop them, and he kisses them away with infinite gentleness.
“Hey,” he says, voice breaking a little, “you okay?”
I nod, too full to speak. More okay than I’ve ever been. Because this? This is everything I didn’t know I was missing. Everything I never thought I’d get to have.
He draws lazy circles against my back with his fingertips, the kind of touch that feels like a promise all by itself. The air between us hums with something so thick, so sweet, it feels almost sacred.
Still, I whisper into the quiet, “Tell me more.”
Liam’s chest rumbles with a soft laugh, his arms tightening around me like he’ll never let me go.
“I want a kitchen big enough you can dance around it while you're baking,” he says, voice rough with sleep and wonder.
“I love that idea,” I whisper, tracing idle shapes on his chest. “And we could plant an enormous garden. You know, so we don’t survive on gas station burritos and meatloaf alone.”
He laughs again, deeper this time.
“Yeah. We'll need that if we’re gonna have a whole herd of little ones running around.”
My breath catches. He tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze.
“I’m serious, Olive,” he murmurs, eyes burning with so much love it guts me. “I want it all with you. House, garden, wedding, babies. All of it.”
Tears slip down my cheeks again, but I’m smiling so hard it hurts.
“I want it all too,” I whisper.
He kisses me then, slow and deep, like he's sealing a vow between us.
By the time we pull apart, we’re both yawning, heavy with exhaustion but wrapped up in a bubble of pure, golden happiness.
“Sleep, honey,” Liam whispers, pulling the blanket higher over us, his body curved protectively around mine. “We’ll start building it once we’ve had a proper rest.”
I sigh against him, finally, finally at peace in his arms, dreaming of gardens, wedding rings, and laughter-filled kitchens.
I fall asleep knowing without a single doubt:
I am loved.
I am wanted.
I am home.
14
When we finally wake up, it’s to the shrill buzz of Liam’s cell vibrating against the nightstand. He groans, voice thick with sleep as he answers.
“Hello? What? Yeah, we can meet you there at two.”
I stretch beside him, sore in the best possible ways, feeling more content than I have in a long time. Honestly, maybe ever.
I blink over at him, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “Who was that?”
