“Tell me about it,” I reply, grinning. The excitement is infectious, buzzing through all of us as we begin to explore.
We wander from room to room, marveling at the shimmering pool out back, the opulent theater room with its velvet-lined walls, and the playful charm of the game area. Every space feels thoughtfully curated, like Calvin handpicked a dream home just for this weekend. I can’t even imagine what this must’ve cost.
Meanwhile, Calvin and my grandfather are unloading the luggage. I catch glimpses of him, his movements steady and purposeful, his attention drifting toward me every so often. There’s a quiet tension simmering beneath the surface, a shared awareness between us. We agreed today’s the day we’d tell them. Officially. While no one in my family has said anything outright, I’m sure the signs are there. Abigail knows everything, of course, and Grandma has an inkling, but I don’t know if Grandpa knows just yet.
Still, for now, no one says a word.
The house slowly fills with the comforting hum of family, laughter echoing off the walls, familiar voices mixing with the sound of unpacking. And just like that, the nerves that had gripped me all morning began to loosen their hold. For a moment, I let myself breathe it all in: this joy, this rare experience of everyone I love in one place.
My phone is buzzing in my hand. It’s a text from Calvin.
Sir
Meet me in the theater room.
My pulse skips.
I glance around, see no one’s paying attention, and quietly make my way down the hall. The plush carpet muffles my footsteps as I push open the heavy double doors and step inside.
The theater room is stunning in the quiet. Lined in dark, sound-absorbing fabric and lit by soft amber sconces, it feels like its own little world. The leather recliners stretch out in neat rows, and the faint scent of cedar lingers in the air. It’s luxurious, yes, but comforting, too. The kind of space you could disappear into for hours.
I walk toward the front, letting my fingers trail along the top of a seat, when I hear the door ease shut behind me.
I turn, and there he is.
He crosses the room without a word, his eyes locked on mine. When he reaches me, he doesn’t hesitate; his arms slide around my waist, pulling me into him like he’s been waiting months to do just that. I melt into his hold, his cologne grounding me instantly.
“I miss you so much,” I whisper, my voice breaking as I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer like I’m afraid he’ll disappear again. “I hate this, Calvin. I hate being apart.”
I see it all in his eyes: the ache, the hunger, the same maddening loneliness that’s been gnawing at me. “I know, Peach,” he breathes. “I hate it too. But it’s almost over.”
His hand comes up, brushing a loose curl from my face, but the touch lingers, fingertips trailing along my cheek like he’s memorizing me all over again. “Come here.”
Before I can say a word, his lips crash onto mine, fierce, starved. There’s nothing gentle about this kiss. It’s desperate, consuming, like he’s trying to erase the weeks we’ve spent apart with the press of his mouth against mine. My hands clutch his shirt, anchoring myself as heat flares between us.
His mouth moves over mine with a hunger that makes my whole body tremble. I melt into him, into the scent of his cologne and the solid warmth of his chest. When he deepens the kiss, I gasp softly, the sound swallowedbetween us as his arms lock around my waist, drawing me tighter.
He finally breaks the kiss, just enough for his forehead to rest against mine. His breath is hot against my lips, uneven and ragged. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he says hoarsely, voice full of restrained fire. “I can’t think when I’m around you.”
“Calvin…” My hands press to his chest, feeling the pounding of his heartbeat against my palms. It matches mine, wild, erratic, like we’ve both been holding back for too long.
His mouth finds the corner of mine again, soft at first, but then trailing lower, along my jaw, down to the hollow of my throat. Every place he touches, he sets on fire. My knees nearly give out when his lips graze that sensitive spot just below my ear.
“Calvin, we shouldn’t,” I whisper, the words weak, hollow even to my own ears. “My family’s right down the hall…”
“Then you better be quiet,” he says against my skin. “Because you in this dress is my fucking kryptonite.”
He gathers the fabric of my dress, slowly, like he’s unwrapping something sacred.
“I’ve missed you every second,” he says, kissing the base of my neck. “Every breath without you has felt wrong.”
I clutch his shoulders as his body presses against mine, pinning me gently to the wall. The firm strength of him surrounds me, shelters me.
“Just five minutes,” he pleads. “Not to be dramatic, but I might die if I don’t feel you wrapped around me.”
I can’t help it, I laugh. “And if they come looking?” I ask, breath catching as his lips graze the edge of my collarbone.
His mouth curves into a smirk against my skin. “Then they’ll learn the hard way that you are mine.”
