I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Sure. I’ll mentor, stick around till the end of the year.”
“Perfect.” Static hums between us for a beat, which means he’s about to turn serious. “And, hey, don’t overthink shit. If it’s meant to be, she’ll say those three words. Just make sure you’re still around when she’s ready.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, buying myself a second to breathe. “Yeah. I’ll try.”
Later that evening, after the kittens are asleep in their playpen, curled together like they’ve never known chaos, Cami and I lie nose to nose, tangled in sheets warmed with the clean scent of our shared body wash.
Steam still clings to the room, a lunar haze catching on bare skin.
“Two more weeks before summer ends.” I trace a slow path down her arm. “I’m going to miss our nightly rituals.”
She smiles against my mouth. “You mean tiny-terrorist chaos, shower sex, and more sex?”
“That,” I whisper, “and this—you, me, pillow talk, and cuddles before we drift off to sleep.”
For a beat, neither of us speaks, the ocean humming through the cracked window, lazy and constant.
“Have you decided what to do with the penthouse?” she asks.
“Gonna sell it.” My gaze drifts toward the window where moonlight cuts across her still-glistening skin. “Feels like the last thing tying me to a life I don’t want anymore.”
“And what life do you want?”
A life that includes youis what I want to tell her.
Instead, I let out a slow breath, the truth hovering behind it. “One that doesn’t feel like waiting for something to end.”
Blue eyes probe mine, quiet understanding flickering in them. “Maybe endings aren’t always bad.”
“Maybe not.” I hold her gaze, my pulse steady but loud in my ears. “But I’m starting to think some things aren’t meant to end.”
Neither of us looks away until her gaze flicks to my mouth, then back to my eyes, a slow breath catching between us.
“So…what happens after?”
I swallow hard. “After summer?”
She nods once, almost imperceptibly. “Yeah.”
I shift close enough to feel her breath on my chin. “You’ll go back to New York, start your new job. I’ll deal with the penthouse, wrap up a few things for work.” I pause, then quietly add, “And pretend I’m fine with that.”
Her lips curve, just shy of a smile. “But you’re not?”
“Not even close. Are you?”
She studies me for a long moment, then shakes her head. “Not at all. So…what do we do?” Her question breaks on a breath, and so does my heart.
“We leave here as planned. Keep our bubble phones. No pressure, no promises we can’t keep. Just…there if we need them.”
Her laugh is full of disbelief and affection. “You mean we use the phones like some sort of lifeline? An SOS?”
“Like a real-life switch,” I say. “Something we already have, available to flip on if you’re ready to take us out of the summer bubble and cross over into therealworld.”
She tilts her head, considering it. “A bubble switch.”
“Yep.” I smile. “It’s simple. Off means goodbye. On means us, crossing that bridge into real life. As long as you keep yours charged…”
Her nose scrunches, the cutest smile tugging at her mouth. “You make it sound like I’m terrible at keeping it charged.”
