I laugh, even as I feel the blush creep up my cheeks. “I’m going to murder Patti in her sleep.”
“You were incredible tonight,” he says, clearly changing the subject. I’m not about to argue with a compliment. “I mean,you always are, but…I don’t know. You looked incandescent up there.”
I try to play it off, but it lands right where I’m softest. “Stop. I’m going to blush. And then you’ll have to carry me upstairs because I’ll have lost all motor function.”
He laughs, that rumble I love so much. “That’s not a threat, sweetheart. That’s a promise.”
I want to melt. I really do. Instead, I tip my chin up, holding his gaze. “Want to come upstairs? I have cookies. And maybe a bottle of decent wine if you’re nice to me.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Always. Lead the way.”
My apartment is still a little messy, but I don’t care. I like the way it feels now, full of memories. The couch is crooked, there’s a pile of scarves on the chair, and the bed is unmade, a quilt tossed everywhere. I flick on the lamp. Miles steps inside, peels off his boots, and stretches like a bear coming out of hibernation. He glances around with that same warm, fond look in his eyes.
“God, I love it up here,” he says, his voice soft. “It’s so you.”
I duck my head, suddenly shy. “It’s small, but it does the trick.”
I excuse myself for a couple of minutes to de-drag-ify for the night while Miles makes himself comfortable. When I come back out, clean-faced and wearing one of my most comfortable caftans, Miles is admiring the art above the couch, humming quietly to himself. The image of him so at ease in my space is one I never thought I’d get to see, and I don’t think I’ll ever get over how much I love it.
I must make a noise, because he turns toward me, flashing one of those devastating grins. He steps closer,crowding my space, and wraps his big arms around me, pulling me in.
“So. Was I worth the price of admission?”
He swallows, eyes dark and hungry. “More than worth it.” His arm tightens around my waist, his other hand coming up to cup my jaw, warm and steady, before he kisses me. It’s soft at first, then bruising and desperate, like he’s been holding back all night.
I melt into it, letting him take whatever he wants. When he pulls back, I’m breathless.
“Jesus,” he mutters, his forehead pressed to mine. “You wreck me.”
I laugh, a little shaky. “You’re the one who showed up looking like a lumberjack centerfold and watched me all night like I hung the moon.”
He grins, goofy and proud. “Guilty.”
For a minute, we just stand there, breathing each other in. His hands drift up and down my back, soothing and grounding. When he finally pulls away, there’s something lit up in his eyes, a kind of wild, almost boyish excitement.
“I have to tell you something,” he blurts, nearly tripping over his own tongue.
I laugh, brushing the hair off his brow. “You sound like you’re about to propose. You got a ring in that pocket?”
He grins, wide and unguarded. “Not yet. But I do have something big.”
I tip my head, feigning suspicion. “This better not be about the snowmen again. Or the feral cats behind the B&B. Or how you tried to teach Dee to ride a horse and she ended up in the pond last week. Yes, I heard about that.”
He laughs, shoulders shaking. “Guilty. But this time, you’re not going to be mad.”
I arch a brow, stepping back just enough to cross my arms and give him the fulldrag mom is listeningtreatment. “Spill.”
He takes a deep breath, then lets it out in a rush. “I got the job. The caretaker gig at the B&B. Mal, Liam, and the whole crew officially offered it to me, and I said yes. Like, yes-yes. Not just for the winter. Not just until I get bored and run again.” His voice goes soft, almost shy. “I’m staying, May. For good this time. If you want me.”
There’s a beat where I can’t speak. Then another. The silence is thick enough to cut with a stiletto. He’s staying. He’s really staying. Everything inside me goes bright and unmoored all at once. My vision blurs. I blink fast, but I can’t stop the smile stretching my mouth wide. “You’re…you’re really doing it?”
Miles nods, sheepish, grinning so hard it looks painful. “Yeah. I want to. I want you. I want all of this. I want to build something here. With you.”
My knees nearly buckle. I lunge at him, almost knocking us both over as I crash into his arms. He catches me easily, spinning us in a slow, giddy circle.
“Fuck. You have no idea…” My voice cracks, embarrassingly emotional, but I don’t care. “You have no idea what that means to me.”
He presses his forehead to mine, warm and solid. “I think I do,” he murmurs, and then he’s kissing me like he’s been waiting his whole life to finally get it right. It’s different this time. Softer. Unhurried. He tastes like mint and honey and the promise of all the mornings we never got to have. I slide my hands up his chest, into his hair, and let myself just want. Want him, want this, want a future where I get to be May on stage and Mason in his arms, and both are loved.
