Being closer to the trails means our hiking trips can start later, allowing us to catch the sunrise without losing too much sleep. It’s a small change, but one that’s made a world of difference for Misha.
Still, we have never missed a sunrise we wanted to see. Even on those mornings when Oliver and Grey join us—Oliver with enthusiasm, though a bit clumsy on the rocky paths, and Grey with his grumpiness that only fades when the first rays of sunlight break the horizon—we always end up in awe.
By the time the sun is fully up, we’re all cheering and dancing with Misha on the mountaintop.
Ba doo doo ba!
And thanks to all the hikes I’ve taken over the years with Misha, I’m finally able to keep up with him.
Almost.
I laugh quietly to myself when I realize there’s no more space for another daisy. Misha, sensing my amusement, turns to look up at me with a smile. “What are you up to, Bug?” he asks teasingly.
I feign innocence, holding back a grin. “Nothing.”
But then he notices the daisy still in my hand and reaches up, feeling the flowers woven through his hair. Smirking, he moves quickly, grabbing me and pulling me down onto my back beside him. He hovers over me, stealing the daisy from my grasp with a playful glint in his eye.
“You little minx.” He snickers before tucking the flower behind my ear. “There,” he says, his eyes sparkling as he admires his handiwork. “Perfect.”
His gaze is soft, filled with warmth as he leans in to kiss me, a sweet brush of lips that makes my heart flutter.
After almost six years, they still give me butterflies.
“How’s the weather inside you today?” Misha murmurs, his hand on my shoulder and his thumb brushing over my collarbone.
I smile at him, bright and full, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “It’s a never-ending sunrise.”
“You’remy never-ending sunrise,” he murmurs before leaning in to kiss me deeply, his lips lingering on mine as he holds my throat gently, probably feeling how much my heart is racing.
When Misha breaks the kiss, he returns to his magazine, flipping the pages with a contented smile. I turn my attention to Oliver, who’s sitting cross-legged with his notebook balanced on his knee, scribbling away.
We took creative writing lessons together a while back, and ever since, he’s made it a habit to write me even more letters.
Love letters.
Sometimes once a month, sometimes even weekly, depending on our schedules and whatever’s going on in our lives. Each one is a treasure, and I’ve bought a beautiful chest to store them in my room. I love reading through them from time to time. They feel like a journal of our relationship, a diary of our journey and the depth of our feelings for each other.
It’s my favorite thing.
As for me, I’ve mostly used my creative writing lessons to craft digital sticky notes that pop up around the house when triggered by specific actions or locations. The last one was,It needs more cheese, I love you,which appeared when Grey was putting lasagna into the oven. It made him jump and spill some ricotta on the floor, and I almost laughed my head off.
The AR technology I’ve developed has advanced so much over the last few years and combined with the guys’ AI expertise—and Jamie’s brilliance—we’ve created something truly powerful. It’s the vision I’ve always had in mind, a dream I once only dared to imagine.
The current version of Jamie, coupled with my lensless AR, is a groundbreaking product that will lead the market. Once again, we’re poised to revolutionize the industry.
Everyone knows our name, and we’re determined to stay at the forefront.
I glance at Oliver’s socks peeking out of his sneakers—a blue pair adorned with bright yellow rubber ducks—and can’t help but smirk. We have this tradition calledSilly Sock Sunday, where Misha, Grey, Grandpa, Morgan, Willow, and even Hendricks join in, and we all wear goofy socks while having brunch together.
But Oliver and I wear our silly socks every day. It’s become such a thing that everyone gifts us socks for birthdays and Christmas, and I love it, even if it’s getting harder to find unique pairs.
Finding ones for Oliver’s birthday is always a challenge, especially since he tends to decide at the last minute when he wants his birthday to be.
Last year, I had this idea to dress us up as the cast ofTwilightfor Halloween, but Grey flat-out refused to play Edward Cullen and put glitter on his face. I pouted, of course, but Oliver saved the day by declaring that Halloween was his birthday and that his birthday wish was for us to dress up as I’d planned.
I loved him even more for it.
Misha was Jacob, and Oliver dressed up as Carlisle, whispering to me with a mischievous grin that he always thought Bella had a thing for the father of her boyfriend.
