Their pace deepened gradually—still slow, still sensual, but inevitable. Hands linked above her head. Legs entwined. Eyes never leaving each other’s.
“Come with me,” he breathed against her lips.
She did—quietly, shuddering, face buried in the curve of his neck as the waves rolled through her. He followed moments later—deep, pulsing release, hips pressing flush as he groaned her name low against her shoulder, holding her through every lingering tremor.
They didn’t separate right away. He stayed inside her, softening slowly, while she traced idle patterns across his back. He kissed her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth.
“Merry Christmas,” he murmured, voice wrecked and tender.
She laughed softly—happy, tear-streaked. “Merry Christmas.”
They lay tangled together a long time—sweaty, sated, breathing in sync. The ruined lunch waited forgotten in the kitchen. Cicadas sang outside the window.
Inside, they had each other.
And for the first time since Nan was gone, Christmas felt like home.
Like the start of something real.
Epilogue
Six Months Later
Aria
The private jet hummed steadily above the Mediterranean, sunlight fracturing across the water in bright shards of turquoise and gold. Aria curled tighter into Jax’s side, bare feet tucked beneath her on the wide leather seat, his favourite hoodie swallowing her frame and carrying the faint trace of his cologne. His arm lay heavy and warm across her shoulders, thumb tracing the same slow, lazy circles on her skin that had become her favourite kind of comfort.
Six months. Sometimes it still felt like a dream she was afraid to wake from.
January had been gentle and heavy all at once. They’d spent three quiet weeks in the Paddington house, sorting Nan’s life into boxes. Jax had kept the faded recipe cards and the old wooden rolling pin that still carried the ghost of her touch; Aria had claimed the chipped teapot and the lavender-scented cardigan she wore whenever the nights felt too long. They’d sat on the living-room floor for hours, crying over old photos, laughing at Nan’s terrible handwriting, and holding each other when the silence pressed too close. The house sold in just nine days to a young couple expecting their first baby. Whenthe husband shook Jax’s hand on settlement day, Jax had said quietly, “Take care of her,” and Aria had known he meant the house, the memories, all of it.
From there they’d flown straight to Los Angeles.
Her mother’s house in the Silver Lake hills had felt like stepping into warm sunlight after months of grey. Mum had thrown the door open before they even reached the porch, already tearing up. She’d pulled Jax down into a fierce hug—tiny against his height—and immediately started fussing. “You must be starving after that flight. Come, come, I made extra spicy kimchi jjigae just like Aria said you like.” Over the next four days she’d grilled him about everything: “Do you really go two hundred miles an hour? Does your heart ever race like mine does when I watch you on TV? Do you sleep enough?” Jax had answered every question with that easy, genuine laugh of his, helping carry plates out to the terrace, tasting her cooking with honest enthusiasm, and even washing dishes beside her like he’d been doing it for years. On their last night Mum had cornered Aria in the hallway while Jax was outside on a quick call with the team. She’d cupped Aria’s face with both hands and whispered, “He looks at you like you hung every star in the sky, sweetheart. Don’t you dare let that boy slip away.” Aria had hugged her mother so tightly her ribs ached, because she already knew she never would.
Seoul had come next.
They’d gone straight to the sleek Gangnam apartment where Aria had moved as a teenager when training became everything—the first place that had ever felt like hers. The floor-to-ceiling windows still overlooked the glittering city, and the wall of platinum records caught the light exactly as she remembered. Jax had walked in, eyes wide, running a hand along the back of the couch where she used to collapse after fourteen-hour days.She’d taken his hand and led him to the office the next morning for final tour planning.
The rehearsal studio buzzed with controlled chaos. Lena was already there, clipboard in hand, barking gentle orders at the lighting crew. Robert stood by the soundboard looking every inch the father figure he’d been since she was sixteen—jey black hair, rolled-up sleeves, that same steady presence that had gotten her through every debut panic.
“Lena, Robert—this is Jax,” Aria had said, voice soft with pride. “Jax, these are the two people who kept me sane for the last ten years.”
Lena had grinned, bowed slightly, then immediately hugged him. “Finally- its so nice to meet you properly. She talks about you non-stop. Welcome to the madhouse, racer boy.”
Robert had shaken Jax’s hand firmly, then pulled him into a one-armed hug. “So you’re the one who finally made her smile like that again. Hurt her and I know people who can make a car disappear in the Han River.” His eyes were warm despite the threat. Jax had laughed, but the respect between them had been instant.
That afternoon Jax had sat on a folding chair at the edge of the studio while Aria ran through the new choreography for the tour. The music thumped, lights flashed, and she moved—sharp, fluid, powerful. Sweat glistened on her skin, hair sticking to her neck, breath coming hard. Every time she hit a turn or drop, she caught Jax’s gaze. He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, watching her like she was the only thing in the room. When the track ended and she walked over, chest heaving, he’d pulled her into his lap right there in front of everyone, whispering against her damp temple, “You’re going to kill me in the best way.” Theheat in his eyes had promised exactly how he planned to show her later.
February had exploded with the Seoul opening night. Jax had slipped into the wings straight from Bahrain testing, still smelling faintly of jet fuel and adrenaline. When the lights hit her and the crowd roared, she’d looked straight at him and felt the same spark that had started everything.
Melbourne in March had been pure joy. She’d arrived jet-lagged but glowing, sliding into the garage just in time for qualifying after squeezing in a quick two-day break between her Sydney and Brisbane shows. Jax took pole—smooth, dominant, the way he always did when he was locked in. That night in the hospitality suite, after debriefs wrapped and the mechanics had cleared out, Mia had pulled Aria and Dana into a quiet corner away from the cameras and the lingering crew.
The ring caught the overhead lights—simple platinum band, a single brilliant diamond that looked like it had been made for Mia’s hand. Lucas had proposed at sunrise at their villa in Nice, Mia said, voice trembling with happiness. He’d dropped to one knee in the middle of the olive grove and asked her to be his forever. She’d said yes before he even finished the question.
Mia was radiant—cheeks flushed, eyes shining, practically vibrating as she held out her hand. “I can’t do this without you two,” she said, voice cracking just a little. “You’re family. Please say you will be my bridesmaids. Please.”
Aria felt her own eyes sting instantly. “Yes. God, yes.” She pulled Mia into a hug, laughing through the sudden rush of emotion.
