And the strangest thought lands in my head with a weight I can’t ignore.She’s going to be my wife someday.I don’t know whereit comes from, because marriage has never been something I pictured for myself. But it feels inevitable.
My chest tightens like all the air has been stolen from the room. I can’t breathe.
“Oh my god,” she gasps when her gaze lands on me standing struck in front of their table. Her eyes go wide.
She turns to Leo. “You didn’t.”
He laughs, and she swats his arm, shaking her head. Then she looks back at me, her mouth curving into a smile that’s equal parts disbelief and excitement. “To be honest, I thought you only owned suits.”
And then she stands and hugs me.
Warm and completely unexpected. Her body presses against mine, curves fitting into me like they were always meant to. Her chest brushes my torso, her hips align with mine, and all I can do is hug her back. I loop my arms around her and pull her tight to my chest.
She smells faintly of tequila and vanilla. And it hits me, standing there with her in my arms, that maybe the only reason she’s letting me this close is because she’s had a drink or two. But that doesn’t stop the quiet, selfish relief that unfurls through me.
She’s not mad to see I’ve followed her.
She pulls back, her eyes glossy and bright, laughter caught somewhere in her throat.
“You didn’t get enough of me earlier today?”
I don’t answer. Because the truth is that I'll ever get enough of her.
"I like your outfit," I say.
She smirks and does a curtsy.
“Come on,” she says, looping her arm through mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world and I didn't make her come a few hours earlier while she was bent over my toilet. “Join us.”
Her touch is light but grounding as she tugs me into their booth. Her scent engulfs me. It’s distracting in the best way. This whole night feels strange and out of character for me. I can’t remember the last time I was in a crowded, small-town bar like this. Probably college. And yet… I don’t hate it. Not even a little.
“Cain, you remember Leo,” she says, sliding into the spot beside me.
Leo gives me a slow nod, his blue eyes sharp but kind. “Good to see you again.”
“Likewise.”
“And this,” Rhiannon adds, gesturing across the table, “is Leo’s boyfriend, Chris.”
Chris reaches out to shake my hand, grinning. “Nice to see you’ve found your clothes tonight.”
“Glad we’ve all moved past that.”
Rhiannon grins devilishly. “I still wear his boxers to sleep every night.”
Leo groans. “You would. I just hope you washed them.”
And yeah, I shouldn’t care, but something about her saying that out loud to them makes something primal in me unfurl. I sling an arm behind her and pull her closer to my side.
Leo flags down the bartender. “What are you drinking?”
Rhiannon doesn’t miss a beat. “Tequila.”
He lifts a brow at her. “Both of you are?”
“Both of us,” she says, eyes glinting like she already knows I won’t object.
Thirty minutes later, I’m three shots in with her, and she’s tipsy enough that everything she says sounds like laughter. Every time she leans into me, her body presses tighter against my side, her hand finding my thigh under the table like it’s her anchor.
