"Tomorrow," I say softly. "Tonight, let's just be."
No one argues. Tonight isn't about logistics or arrangements or what the world might think. Tonight is about this. This fragile, beautiful thing we've found together.
Tomorrow there will be decisions to make, a future to plan. But tonight, there is only this moment, these men, this love that defies definition.
I close my eyes, surrounded by their warmth, their scent, their presence.
This is what safety feels like. This is what love does.
44
EPILOGUE: MATEO
"If anyone puts kale in my blender one more time, I swear to all that is holy..."
I glare accusingly at the green sludge in our otherwise perfectly good blender.
"It's spirulina," Ethan says without looking up from his laptop at the kitchen table, sunlight catching in his dark hair. "And it's good for you."
"It's an abomination," I counter, dumping the offensive mixture down the sink. "People who drink this voluntarily should be studied by science."
Ethan's mouth quirks in that way it does when he's trying not to smile. "Not everyone can survive on coffee and charm like you, Mateo."
I press a hand to my chest in mock offense. "My metabolism is a gift. I'm just sharing it with the world."
Declan grunts from where he's stretched out on our oversized couch, reading glasses perched improbably on his nose as he thumbs through a battered paperback. The scar on his face catches the light as he turns a page. "Your metabolism is going to catch up with you one day, and I'm going to enjoy every minute of it."
"Such violence from a man of peace," I sigh dramatically.
It's been a year since we moved to this sprawling house on the Portuguese coast. A year of sea breezes through open windows, of mismatched furniture collected from local markets, of building a life together that none of us thought possible.
Beyond the wide windows, the Atlantic stretches blue and endless, crashing against the rocky cliffs below our property. We're twenty minutes from the nearest village. Close enough for necessities, far enough for privacy. The locals know us, of course. The famous photographer and her three... partners? Bodyguards? Husbands? They don't ask, and we don't explain. They just wave and smile and occasionally bring us too much food.
Cross Security has exploded in the past year. So much demand that Ethan had to triple the staff and move operations to a sleek new building in Lisbon. He complains about being stuck behind a desk now, but I catch him smiling at his computer sometimes, watching the company we built thrive beyond his wildestexpectations.
Declan trains the new recruits, putting them through their paces with his particular brand of quiet intensity. They're terrified of him for the first week, then ready to die for him by the second. Some things never change.
Me? I'm technically "head of digital security," but we all know I'm here for the views and the company. And to keep these three impossible people from losing their minds without me.
The sound of tires on gravel makes us all perk up. Declan closes his book. Ethan shuts his laptop. And I'm already halfway to the door before it swings open.
Jade steps in, backlit by afternoon sunshine, copper hair windblown and face flushed with color. She's wearing worn jeans, hiking boots, and one of Declan's flannel shirts that's been missing for weeks, camera bag slung over her shoulder.
God, she's beautiful.
"There she is," I announce, sweeping her into my arms. "Sin Jay herself, scourge of dictators and darling of the art world. How many government officials did you piss off this time,mi reina?"
She laughs, melting into my embrace before leaning back to look at my face. "Only two. I'm losing my touch."
I kiss her soundly, tasting salt and sunshine. "I missed you."
"You saw me three days ago," she points out, but her smile says she missed me too.
"Three days too long," Ethan says, coming to claim his own kiss. His hands frame her face with that gentle possessiveness that still makes my heart ache a little. "The house is too quiet without you."
Declan doesn't say anything, just wraps his massive arms around her from behind, burying his face in her hair. Some things are better said without words.
She's been in Angola for the past few days, documenting the effects of land mine removal. Another in the series of projects that have cemented Sin Jay as one of the most important photographers of our time. When Jade finally went public with her identity last year, the art world lost its collective mind. The mysterious photographer who'd captured everything from war zones to climate disasters was the same woman who'd graced magazine covers for a decade? The exhibition of her work broke attendance records at galleries around the world.
