I roar words I can’t hear, hollering promises and declarations of love. Milo’s quivering body goes limp against me, and I hold him, still buried deep as my hot release leaks down my shaft, dripping out of his hole.
With one arm across Milo’s chest, I pull his face back to meet him in a kiss. We’re sweaty and sloppy, licking and kissing at each other in a daze, and Milo trembles with aftershocks.
“I love you,” I tell him again.
“I love you,” he gasps, and I can feel it in the air. I can feel it the same as I can feel the heat of our bodies and the scent of our release.
We’re made for each other, and our new life has begun.
EPILOGUE
MILO
One year later…
Joeyand I sit on the grass in the backyard, sweating under the hot sun while we tend to the garden. I’m lazily pruning the Buff Beauties, a rose shrub that crawls up the side of our fence with fragrant, peachy-white blooms. Joey bought it for me special at the start of the spring and planted it for an anniversary surprise, and I’ve started to associate the sweet tea rose scent with my boyfriend.
I adjust the wide-brimmed sunhat I’m wearing and turn to Joey. He’s shirtless and in a pair of cut-off denim shorts, squatting while he tends to the tomatoes. His skin is tanned to a darker gold from all the time he’s spending out here, and I smile to myself when I see the contented look on his face.
“Thanks for pulling me away from my books.”
Joey grunts, then pops a small, ripe tomato in his mouth. “It’s too beautiful outside. You can’t miss a day like this.”
I toss the pruning shears down, then crawl across the warm grass to him. Our yard isn’t that big, just a little square of green behind our squat brick house. But Joey’s like me. He doesn’t want anything fancy or extravagant. He’s just happy that we found a house that we can make our own, and so am I.
Hell, he was as enthusiastic as I was about turning the spare room into our reading library. What more could I possibly want?
I take his water bottle and gulp from it. I’m wearing an old pair of his basketball shorts and a faded Chicago Botanical Garden T-shirt, and the latest tattoo on what we’re calling my “pollinator arm” is carefully wrapped in cloth to protect it from the sun while it heals.
Joey turns to me and arches an eyebrow. “You all done pruning those roses?”
I glance back at the shrub. “You think it needs more attention?” Then I lay out on the grass, stretching my legs and arms out. “You probably spend more time tending to the flowers than I do,” I say, smiling as I realize that’s true.
Joey appears above me, taking a pushup pose to hover a few inches in the air. “And you’re getting more tattoos than I am lately,” he says, then kisses me deeply. “It’s hot.”
I grin and pull him down, and Joey crashes onto me with an oomph. “It is hot,” I agree. “You’re rubbing off on me.” Then I playfully kiss him again and rub my body up against his.
Joey chuckles and rolls to the side, pulling me on top of him. “You know, I was thinking about it. I can plan out some vegetable rotations next year, and if we start saving the compost like I read about, the gardens will probably produce enough for us to start sharing properly. I know Ayla and Horatio would appreciate a basket, and Stone’s trying to get Matty to eat better.”
I laugh. When we started the garden, I thought it would just be a way to pass some time. Joey, though, fell in love with the whole thing immediately. He started doing research and putting a lot of energy into figuring out the best way to make use of the space we have.
“If you ever half-ass something, I’m going to think aliens have body-snatched you,” I tell him.
Joey grunts. “You love it.”
“Yeah,” I laugh, “I do.”
We roll around for a while, lazing in the sun and kissing. Since it’s the summer, my school isn’t quite as consuming, so I can put everything else out of mind and just enjoy the time with my boyfriend. I’ll have some busy weeks with Janelle and the new research team I’ve joined soon enough, and the hardest year yet ahead of me as I get closer to finishing my degree. But none of that stresses me, not when I have a perfect partner and my group of friends to support me and cheer on my successes.
“So, the roses?” Joey asks. “I think a couple at the top might be ready. Want to cut them for the kitchen table?”
I glance back at the shrub. “Sure,” I say with a shrug. “Why not?”
I pull myself up and head back over to the fence, smiling and not really thinking about anything. The top blooms are full and round, the petals spilling out and gorgeously catching the sunlight. I lift the shears to snip them off, then stop when I catch a glint of light.
There’s something hanging there, dangling right on the biggest thorn. It’s silver and round and small, and I stare at it, confused.
I reach out and lift the metal and see that it’s a ring, and when I turn, Joey is behind me on one knee and with a steady, serious expression. The sunlight splays on the thunderclouds tattooed across his chest, and his hand is over his heart, where he tattooed my name a few months ago.
