He snorts, shaking his head like he’s not half-envious.“You’re a pervert.”
I laugh.“You’re just jealous I’m the one getting wrecked on arrival.You should find ...someone.”
He grabs my shoulder before I turn to leave.The touch is brief but solid.Warm.
“I’m glad you’re finally happy.”
Happy.
The word hits harder than I expect.
Like thunder muffled by distance—low, inevitable.
Happy.
I blink, nod like it doesn’t catch in my throat.Like it doesn’t echo through every place in my body I used to hold tight just to survive.
Happiness.
It’s a notion, really.
A word people say when they see something soft in your face, some new looseness in your shoulders.
Am I?
The truth blooms slowly, like steam rising off a summer road after rain.
I’m content.Relaxed.My body doesn’t ache the way it used to, doesn’t lock up waiting for the next thing to break.I’m not running anymore.Not hiding.
I’m flying home to people who love me.Who say my name like it’s sacred, not inconvenient.
We’re expecting a baby.
There’s a woman who snorts when she laughs and makes pancakes in her underwear.
There’s a man who fucked me so deep last week I saw stars, and told him I loved him right after we won the fourth game—in front of the crowd.
So yeah.
Maybe I am.
Happy isn’t a lightning strike.
It’s the afterglow.
It’s the moment the storm breaks and the world smells like wet pavement and something new.
It’s this.
Me.
Finally standing still.And wanting to be.
ChapterFifty-Four
Cally: I’m done with New York.The wheels are up.Heading home.Try not to ruin the bed without me.
Monty: No promises.Ves woke up braless and grumpy, and very horney.She’s in that part of the pregnancy when you can’t satiate her.We used the vibrator on her pretty ass.I think she might be ready to take us both, baby.
