…
A few minutes later I emerge from the bathroom, face still burning with thorough mortification. I’d spent way too long staring at the dark hickey on my neck in the mirror.
Cade’s sprawled on the couch, looking far too amused for someone who just got caught half-naked by our parents. He laughs the second he sees me.
“They left,” he says, still grinning. “They thought you’d had enough emotional embarrassment for one day.”
I let out a huge sigh of relief and cross my arms over my chest, trying to regain some dignity. “So… do I need to start packing my shit up?”
Cade’s smirk turns wicked. In one smooth motion he vaults over the back of the couch and crosses the room, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me flush against his chest.
“Absolutelyyes,” he murmurs, voice low and playful. “Let’s do that right now.”
He starts pressing quick, affectionate kisses all over my face… my forehead, my cheeks, the tip of my nose, my jaw… each one making me laugh despite myself.
“We’ll have a backyard,” he continues between kisses, “with a pool, where I can watch you swimming naked and sexy…”
I laugh harder and push at his chest half-heartedly. “Um, no… imagine our parents turning up and seeingthat.”
Cade just grins wider, undeterred, his arms tightening around my waist. For the first time since they walked in this morning, everything feels okay again… light, easy, and strangely right.
Epilogue
Cade
One month later
We’re sitting on the large sectional in the living room of our home; we finally moved into the house together two weeks ago. Rowan’s practically in my lap, legs draped over mine, his back against my chest, my arms wrapped loosely around his waist. When we’re alone like this, we’re almost always attached at the hip.
I’ve been patient, letting him have all the time he needed before we told the world, but today feels like the right moment. Our fingers hover together over the trackpad on my laptop.
The email is already written… formal, professional, and carefully worded. It explains our relationship clearly, states that we are not blood-related, and reminds everyone that any form of harassment, gossip, or discriminatory behaviour will not be tolerated. Dad and I spent a long evening going over the wording. We both agreed this was the cleanest, most respectful way to handle it internally before the rumour mill inevitably started spinning.
Rowan’s hand rests on top of mine. We take a breath together… and click “Send.” The confirmation pops up on screen. For a second, neither of us moves.
Then I lean back against the cushions, pulling Rowan with me so he’s nestled even closer. We both let out a long, simultaneous sigh of relief.
Rowan tilts his head and kisses me softly, slow and sweet, his lips lingering against mine like a quiet promise. I hum contentedly into the kiss, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of his neck.
When we part, I murmur against his mouth, “Well… no going back now, baby.”
Rowan lets out a small, breathless laugh and rests his forehead against mine. “Yup. That’s it.”
We stay like that for a long moment, tangled together on the couch, the late afternoon light spilling through the tall windows of our home, the weight of the email now out in the world. No more hiding, no more careful lies… just us.
…
Later that evening, we’re sprawled in the living room with the lights dimmed low. Rowan’s tucked against my side, legs tangled with mine, while I hold a tub of salted caramel ice cream between us. We’re sharing one spoon like a pair of ridiculous teenagers. Every few seconds one of us dips the spoon in, takes a bite, and then offers the next one to the other. It’s slow and lazy, full of soft hums and little smiles.
My laptop is balanced on the arm of the couch, and we’re scrolling through the flood of replies to the company-wide email we sent earlier. Thousands of employees. We don’t know half these people, but the responses keep coming in.
Rowan licks a bit of caramel off the spoon and reads the next one aloud in a soft voice. “‘Congratulations on your relationship.Wishing you both all the best.’ That one’s from accounting on the fourth floor.”
I smile and scoop another bite, holding it to his lips. He takes it, eyes fluttering closed for a second in pure contentment.
“Nice and polite,” I murmur. “Even if they’re secretly thinking ‘what the hell?’”
Rowan laughs around the spoon, then nudges me with his elbow. “Your turn.”
