The word still felt heavy and new, and I smiled, slow and satisfied, tracing the line of his jaw. “I’m more than okay. I’m married to you.”
A quiet laugh left him, low and familiar. “Say that again.”
“I’m married to you.”
Something shifted in his expression, and when he kissed me, it was unhurried and intentional, not greedy or rushed, just certain. His hands moved with ease and reverence, learning me again in a way that felt deeper now, as if vows had given his touch a different meaning.
“This feels different,” he said softly.
“It is different. We’re different now,” I whispered.
He kissed me again, and for a while, everything narrowed to breath, warmth, and the simple fact that there was nowhere else either of us needed to be. When we finally settled back into the quiet, we lay tangled together, skin cooling, hearts still working through the aftershock of joy. One of his arms rested beneath my head while the other curved around my waist, his thumbtracing slow, absentminded circles like he was committing me to memory.
“Wife,” he said again, just because he could.
I laughed under my breath. “You really enjoying that.”
“Very much so.”
I tilted my head up. “Roman.”
He lifted a brow, already amused. “Stop playing with me, Connie. What’s my name?”
“Roman.”
He leaned closer, voice low, patient, and teasing. “Try again.”
I sighed dramatically on purpose. “Husband.”
His smile came fast, proud, and satisfied. “Good girl.”
I rolled my eyes, even as warmth crept into my face. “You are entirely too pleased with yourself.”
“As I should be,” he said easily. “I earned this.” I settled back into him, letting my cheek rest against his chest, and after a moment, his tone shifted. “I been thinking.”
I smiled. “That’s dangerous.”
“Not this time, love. This is good thinking,” he said.
“Okay, talk to me.”
“That center you and Mel always dreaming about, the one I wanted to add to as well?” he began. “The tutoring rooms, the space for kids who need extra care, the pool for private lessons, and a place where parents can breathe without always being on edge.”
My chest warmed at the thought. “I want it so bad. Somewhere kids feel safe, and parents don’t feel alone.”
“Exactly. Built with intention. Structure. Love.” He paused, then added gently, “I think we should name it after Nan.”
I stilled. “Nan?”
“Yeah. Nancy Stevens. Nana Nan. NanNan. Whatever the hood calls her. She raised you, covered you, and lovedyou without conditions. That’s the foundation of what we’re building.”
Emotion pressed tight behind my ribs. “What would we call it?”
He kissed my temple. “Something that says stability, something that says we care, something that lets folks know they don’t have to struggle alone in there.”
Tears gathered, despite my effort to blink them back. “She would love that.”
“And even when she’s gone one day, she’ll still be here. In the work. In the space. In every kid who feels safe because of it,” he said quietly.
