I lean in and press a kiss to his temple, lingering there for a beat. "But you know what I've realized?"
He swallows. "What?"
"I think us being apart... as much as it sucked... was kind of a blessing in disguise," I say, the words surprising me even as I speak them.
"We needed that time. To grow up. To figure out who we are without each other. To learn how to stand on our own and actually like ourselves, so that when we finally got here—" I squeeze his hands between us "—we'd know how to love each other right. How to take care of each other without losing ourselves. How to face all the crap life throws at us as a team instead of two broken kids clinging to each other."
I breathe out, a little shaky, but sure. "It definitely made me gain confidence. It taught me how to love myself better. To believe that I'm more than enough."
His eyes shine as he nods against my cheek. "More than enough," he murmurs. "More than I deserve."
I pull back just far enough to hold his gaze, my hands framing his face. "You deserve me," I tell him, steady and certain. "And I deserve you."
His breath catches—just barely—but enough that I feel it against my lips.
The way he looks at me shifts... softens... deepens into something so reverent it sends a tremor through my chest. Like I've become the only thing in the room. Like I hung the moon, the sun, and every star he's ever wished on.
"God," he whispers, like the word is dragged out of him, "how did I get this lucky?"
His thumb traces my jaw, slow and worshipful. "You're so damn perfect. And so beautiful it actually hurts sometimes."
Before I can breathe, he leans in and kisses me—slow at first, then deeper, like he's trying to memorize the shape of me with his mouth. I melt into him, fingers curling in his shirt, heart pounding against his chest like it's trying to leap into him.
When he finally pulls back, barely an inch between us, something mischievous sparks in me.
Maybe it's the intimacy.
Maybe it's the quiet.
Maybe it's the way he looks at me like I'm his whole world.
Or... maybe I'm just needy for verbal reassurance because my love language is sometimes"please tell me again so my brain believes it."
I tip my head, smirking. "So... hypothetical question."
Zach raises an eyebrow. "Oh boy."
"Would you still think I'm beautiful if you woke up tomorrow"—I pause for dramatic effect—"and found yourself sleeping next to the old me? You know. The 175-pound, round-cheeked, stretchy-pants-wearing version."
His lips twitch like he already knows exactly where this is going.
But still—I wait, pretending I'm not absolutely fishing for a compliment, because I am and I fully accept that about myself.
CHAPTER fifty-one
ZACH
Idrag my thumb across her lower lip, slow and careful, "Baby... you really think anything could make me want you less?"
The way she's looking at me...Jesus. My heart stutters, flutters, like it's trying to leap straight toward hers—like it knows the way better than I do.
My eyes must be giving me away—soft, yeah, but burning for her all the same.
"Or because anybody else thinks you should look a certain way. I love you because you're you."
I tilt her chin up, just enough so she can't run from what I'm saying.
"I don't want some edited, filtered version of you that fits someone else's bullshit standards."
