Then, louder, with unmistakable amusement, “Let them look.”
Jake sputtered. “I wasn’t?—”
Archie cleared his throat.
Bubba grinned like he’d just been given front-row seats to something he’d absolutely brag about later.
Coop winked at me—actually winked—then leaned in and kissed me again.
This one was shorter. Playful. Certain.
Not asking permission.
Not apologizing.
Just claiming the moment.
When he pulled back, I was smiling so hard my cheeks hurt.
The silence shattered.
“Wow,” Jake said finally. “Okay. We’re just doing this now?”
Bubba clapped once. “I support birthday wishes.”
Archie shook his head, but there was a curve at the corner of his mouth he didn’t bother hiding.
I slid off the ledge, fingers still curled in the front of Coop’s shirt for half a second longer than necessary.
Yeah.
This—this was us.
Messy. Complicated. Laughing anyway.
And for tonight, that was enough.
Chapter
Twenty-Five
FRANKIE
Iwoke up the morning after Coop’s birthday with that rare, fragile feeling that things might actually be… okay. Not fixed. Not solved. But okay in the way that meant I wasn’t immediately bracing for impact the second my eyes opened.
The laughter and fun of the day before lingered like a warm hug that had kept me wrapped up all night. More… Coop’s kiss lingered on my lips and in my body like a quiet echo—not demanding attention or confusing me further, just there. Solid. Warm. Real. A reminder that I was still capable of joy without everything immediately falling apart afterward.
Thatalone felt like a victory.
I lay there for a few minutes, listening to the muted sounds of the house waking up—the distant clink of dishes, Jeremy’s soft footsteps, the quiet hum of something mechanical that I still hadn’t identified. My cats were sprawled around me in various states of ownership, Tabby pressed against my side like she was afraid I might disappear again.
I stroked her fur and let myself breathe. The cats had settled into the house so much faster, and with far more comfort, than I had. It helped that Jeremy established a routine. When I gotup and let them out, they would race downstairs to the kitchen where he went through the ritual of feeding them.
I’d managed to feed them all of once since we moved in, Jeremy would shoo me out if he caught me—not that I’d managed to beat him to it beyond that one time.
Tiddles strode up my middle to stand on my chest and stare down at me. As I stroked him with my free hand, he and Tabby both began to purr. “Do you know what Jeremy said about you babies when I told him taking care of you was my responsibility?”
Not remotely impressed, Tiddles shoved his head under my hand in demand. He wanted scritches and pets.
