I smile, a little broken, a little healed. “Then let’s be messy together.”
“Messy. Chaotic. Ridiculous. And completely in love,” he says, pulling me into him again.
And just like that, I stop running from what we could be. I begin to believe in us.
Because with Elijah, it doesn’t feel like falling.
It feels like finally being caught.
I look at him—really look at him—and for the first time in forever, I let myself believe.
That maybe this time, it’s real.
That maybe this is the beginning of something I never thought I’d have or even deserved.
“Alright,” I say softly. “Let’s try.”
His smile is everything. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
And when he kisses me again—slow, certain, and entirely us—I know without a doubt:
This isn’t a dream.
It’s the start of something real.
Chapter nine
Elijah
Ican’tstopstaringat her.
Even as we leave the shop and head to dinner, hand in hand, there’s this quiet awe buzzing beneath my skin. She said yes. Maybe not forever—yet—but to now. To us. And after waiting for so long, that yes means everything.
We find a cozy little Italian place not far from the shop. She orders pasta, her usual comfort food, and I don’t miss the way her shoulders slowly drop as the night unfolds. Her laughter is softer, easier, like something inside her finally let go. And damn, I want to bottle that sound and carry it with me everywhere.
“I still can’t believe you waited,” she says suddenly between bites.
I smile over the rim of my glass. “Wasn’t hard, honestly.”
She gives me a look. “Liar.”
“Okay, it sucked,” I admit with a laugh. “But you were always it for me. Even when you didn’t know.”
Her eyes go glossy again, and I reach for her hand across the table, threading our fingers together.
“You don’t have to keep proving yourself, Elijah.”
I shake my head, thumb brushing hers. “I’m not trying to prove anything to you Ava. I’m choosing. And I’ll keep choosing you.”
After dinner, we walk back to her place, our fingers still intertwined like some lifeline neither of us is willing to let go of. When we step inside, she kicks off her shoes, glancing back at me with that familiar smirk that used to haunt my dreams.
“You want tea or… something stronger?”
I close the door behind us and lean against it, watching her move through her space like she finally belongs again. “Honestly? I just want you.”
She stops, blinking like she’s not sure she heard right.
“Not in some heat-of-the-moment kind of way,” I add. “Just… like this. Quiet. Real. You.”
