I don’t kneel. I don’t joke. I don’t hedge.
I look at her.
“I choose you.”
The words feel like a door slamming shut behind me—and another one blowing wide open.
Her eyes flicker, searching my face like she’s bracing for the punchline.
“I’m not talking about last night,” I continue. “Or the storm. Or the letters. I mean—every day. From here on out. No hiding. No pen names. No waiting for the ‘right’ moment that never comes.”
She swallows. “Dax…”
“I know I screwed up,” I say, firm but calm. “I know I hurt you. I don’t get to erase that. But I’m done being afraid of wanting you. I’m done pretending this is anything but what it’s always been.”
Her fingers curl tighter around mine.
“I’ve loved you since we were kids,” I say. “And I love you now. The real way. The kind that shows up in daylight. Face to face.”
Her throat works. “You’re terrifying when you’re this serious.”
“Good,” I say. “Means you’re listening.”
She laughs weakly, then exhales like she’s been holding something back for years. “You know what the worst part is?”
“Tell me.”
“The letters.” She lifts one hand between us, palm to chest. “They didn’t make me fall in love with some imaginary man.”
My pulse stutters.
“They made me fall in love with you,” she says softly. “The you who was already there every morning. Who remembered how I take my coffee. Who stayed.”
I step closer, backing her gently into the counter. Not trapping—claiming. She lets me.
“I felt seen,” she continues. “And safe. And wanted. And then I realized… I’ve always felt that way with you. I just didn’t let myself connect it.”
I lean in, resting my forehead against hers. “I should’ve said it sooner.”
“Yes,” she says without hesitation. Then she smiles. “But I get why you didn’t.”
That breaks something open in me.
I cup her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek. “No more letters.”
She nods. “No more hiding.”
I kiss her then—not rushed, not careful. Deep. Certain. The kind of kiss that saysthis is mine and I’m not letting go.
She makes a sound low in her throat, fingers sliding into my hair, tugging just enough to spark heat.
“You’re very confident all of a sudden,” she murmurs against my mouth.
“I’m done pretending I’m not,” I say. “You want me to slow down, say it.”
She tilts her head, eyes dark. “I didn’t say that.”
I smile and kiss her again, longer this time, hands steady at her hips. The tension coils tight, familiar and brand-new all at once.
