We fall together, tangled and breathless and undone.
Afterward, we lie tangled together, her head on my chest, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on her back. Never once feeling so content in my life. This is heaven to me.
"Troy?" she whispers.
"Yeah?"
"That was..." She trails off, laughing. "I don't even have words."
"Me neither." I press a kiss to the top of her head. "You okay?"
"More than okay." She tilts her head up to look at me, and there's something vulnerable in her expression. "I'm... I'm really happy."
My chest tightens. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
I take a breath, then say the words I've been holding onto for days.
"I love you."
She goes still. "What?"
"I love you, Ainsley." I cup her face, holding her gaze. "I know it's fast. I know we're still figuring this out. But I need you to know. I love you."
Tears pool in her eyes, but she blinks them away, and for a second I panic. But then she's smiling.
"I love you too," she whispers. "God, Troy, I love you so much."
Relief floods through me, and I kiss her—soft and full of everything I can't put into words.
"Say it again," I murmur against her mouth.
"I love you."
"Again."
She laughs, cupping my face. "I love you, Troy Abernathy."
"Good." I pull her closer, wrapping my arms around her. "Because I'm not going anywhere. And that's a promise."
We stay like that for a long time, tangled together in the morning light, and for the first time in years, I feel like I'm where I'm supposed to be.
Home.
Epilogue
Ainsley
One Year Later
The tomatoes are thriving.
I'm kneeling in the dirt, pruning back overgrown basil, when I hear Troy's truck pull into the driveway. It's Saturday afternoon, and he's been at a job site all morning—something about a deck renovation that needed his expertise.
Our garden has transformed over the past year. What used to be my small, carefully controlled sanctuary has exploded into a full backyard oasis. Raised beds line the fence, overflowing with vegetables and herbs. A small greenhouse sits in the corner—Troy built it for my birthday, complete with a potting bench and shelves for seedlings. String lights crisscross overhead, casting a warm glow in the evenings when we eat dinner out here on the patio he installed last spring.
It's not just mine anymore.
