"I know." I wrap my arms around her, my chin resting on her hair. "But you're worth every second of it."
Behind us, Demi groans dramatically and flops back against the cushions. "Fine. Indoor after-party it is. But I'm queuing the cheesiest playlist, and you owe me a slow dance in the living room." She points at Mikhail.
He says nothing.
Blue pulls back just enough to look up at me again. "You're really sure?"
I nod. "I'm sure about you. Everything else can wait."
"Okay." She turns toward Demi with a forced-bright smile. "Okay. Indoor after-party. But you're still taking photos. I didn't get all dressed up for nothing."
I kiss the top of her head, breathing in her jasmine-and-wine scent, and feel relief. The night narrows to the four walls, with only our small circle of people, and the woman in my arms who I fall deeper in love with every day.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Blue
Iwake up smiling, the kind that starts somewhere behind my ribs and works its way up before I'm even conscious enough to question it. For a few seconds, I lie there, staring at the ceiling, suspended in a soft, hazy space between dreaming and real life. My heart beats too fast, already ahead of me, celebrating something my brain hasn't fully named yet.
Today is the day my future becomes solidified.
The word settles over me like a promise.
Red's side of the bed is empty, but I don't look for him. He told me he had to get to work early this morning and wouldn't be here when I woke up. And strangely enough, I don't have the anxiety I normally feel when he's gone.
The room still smells faintly like last night. Citrus soap, hours of sex, and more traces of Red flare around me. I stretch, slow and indulgent, pressing my toes into the mattress, letting myself feel grounded and floaty at the same time.
This is what happiness feels like. Effortless. Light. Like I've finally stepped into the version of my life that was always meant to be mine.
My phone sits on the nightstand, face down, and I smile, knowing deep down Red has texted. He always does. The predictability of it makes me feel safe in a way I don't question, like it's proof that I matter without needing to be dramatic about it. Unlike my normal behavior, I don't rush to flip the phone over. Today is special. It's the day everything becomes real. So I savor the anticipation, the quiet thrill of knowing something good is waiting for me.
When I finally pick it up, there it is.
Red: Morning, Bluebird.
Those two words with no punctuation or anything else are everything to me. My chest tightens as if he texted something monumental. I read it again, slower this time, my lips twitching then blooming into a huge smile. A rush of adrenaline hits me, and I curl on my side, staring at the screen.
It's ridiculous how much weight I can put into something so small, but I don't fight it. I let myself have this. I let myself believe this is real, that it's not fragile, that it won't disappear if I hold it too tightly.
I type back without overthinking it.
Me: Good morning, my sexy man.
I pull the sheets down, expose my breasts, put my hand on my pussy, then snap a selfie. I hit send, and a minute passes.
Red: I just got hard.
My pulse ticks higher, and a shot of endorphins kicks in. An urge I've contained for months morphs, and I can't help myself.
Me: Are you at your desk?
Red: Yes.
Me: Would you be mad if I crawled under it again? During one of your sessions, of course.
Dots appear then reappear.
Red: That would be inappropriate.
