“Yeah.”
Jade immediately grins into her coffee.
Leo murmurs, “There it is,” under his breath.
I don’t hear much beyond Stella’s yes.
Because once again, against every old instinct I had to hide, to delay, to make things smaller so she’d feel safer—she stepped toward me anyway.
The thing nobody tells you about happiness is that it makes you stupid about time.
One minute I’m at brunch watching Stella laugh with Jade like they’ve known each other longer than twelve hours and thinking maybe the universe isn’t always a sadist. The next, I’m staring at the hotel suite at sunset with a dress bag over one arm, her overnight things zipped back into place, and the ugly reality of Monday morning practice already circling overhead like a threat.
Weekends like this should not end.
That feels like a design flaw.
Stella is standing at the windows when I come back into the room, changed into dark jeans and a cream sweater, hair down now, looking out over the water like she’s trying to memorize the exact color the Atlantic turns just before evening. The whole suite is washed in gold and firelight and late-fall Newport money.
She turns when she hears me.
“How bad is it?”
I lean the garment bag against the wardrobe and exhale through my nose.
“We have to leave tonight if we want to be back for Monday.”
Her mouth twists.
“I hate discipline.”
“No, you don’t.”
She gives me a look.
“I hate your discipline, then.”
“That’s fair.”
She comes toward me slowly, and the second she does, something in my chest eases. Maybe because that’s what’s been happening all weekend—my body spotting hers and deciding the room makes sense again.
“How much time do we have?”
“Enough.”
Her eyes narrow slightly.
“That was suspiciously vague.”
“I’ve learned specifics make you hostile.”
“That is because your specifics usually include felony-level transportation.”
I laugh, catch her around the waist when she gets close enough, and pull her into me. She comes willingly, settling against my chest like it’s already a habit. That alone doessomething to me I don’t know how to explain without sounding like a man who should be locked in a tower and studied.
I kiss the top of her head.
“Drinks with my parents in forty-five.”
