“And, sunshine, I hate to sound cliché here, you’ve given me the greatest gift. One I waited for over ten years to have.”
A shaky breath escapes him, lips pressing together before speaking again. “You can’t say sweet shit like that.”
I shrug. “Better get used to it.”
He brings his hand to my cheek, brushing over the light stubble.
We’ll make traditions, write them down, photograph them, and leave them for whoever takes the cabin after us—whether that’s Alysa’s children, if she chooses, or the next buyers. Our life will fill these walls until our dying breaths, and I’m excited for every second of it.
“Thank you, Keo.”
Really, I should be the one thanking him. He’s the only one who can pull me back when I start to sink into a dark place.
God… I really love this man.
Humming softly, I nod. “Anything for you.”
Meeting him halfway, I press my lips to his, pulling him closer, and holding him flush against me. I wish I’d had this from the moment I met Ayden, but I’m ready to make up for lost time.
He leans away, a weary smile greeting me. “Alysa comes tonight…”
“She does.”
“You ready for this?” I should be askinghimthat.
“Yeah. I am.”
I slide my hand through his short hair and rest my forehead against his. “A new start. Your sister will understand.”
He lets out a shaky breath and nods. “Thanks.”
“You got it, sunshine. Now, let’s get the tree up—and me a shirt on.”
“Mmm… yes to the first one. Keep the shirt off.”
“Now who’sinsatiable?”
Ayden’s pacing.
He’s been at it for the past hour, ever since Alysa called to say she’d picked up her rental. Clover keeps trailing after him, trying to get his attention, but he’s too wound up.
I let him be. No point in trying to ease him right now.
His eyes finally meet mine, finding me perched on the armrest of the couch. He takes a deep breath, but it doesn’t stop him from bouncing on his toes.
“How’re you so calm?”
I shrug. “I’ve seen her every year. Those nerves about seeing family went out the window a while ago.”
“No, Keo. I mean… telling her about us.”
Again, I play it off, acting nonchalant.
“I don’t understand you—” he cuts himself off as headlights slice through the dark outside. His head jerks toward the door, and he immediately rushes for it.
“Shoes,” I call after him. He retreats just long enough to slip on my boots, then bolts outside. A soft hum rumbles in my throat as I follow at a slower pace.
Those two have always been so close—which is just one of amillion reasons the allegations against him involving her disgust me.
