Page 136 of Keep Me Close

Chey laughs under her breath. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe so, but you still love me.”

Her smile softens. “One hundred percent.”

By the time we make it to the car, she’s quieter. The adrenaline is still there, but it’s shifted now. It’s less bright and bubbly, more like she’s finally starting to come down enough to feel the weight of the evening.

I open the passenger door, taking the flowers from her and arranging them carefully in the back before helping her in.

“Thank you again for the necklace. I absolutely love it.”

My gaze drops to the gold star resting against her chest. It glints under the streetlights, and something in my chest pulls tight.

“It looks good on you.” I lean down and kiss her. “But then again, everything does.”

The drive home doesn’t take more than fifteen minutes. I keep one hand on the steering wheel and the other on her thigh, the silence between us easy. The second we step inside the penthouse, she kicks off her heels and laughs when she sees how many bouquets we actually brought home.

“This is ridiculous.”

I set the flowers on the counter. “You earned it.”

She wanders farther into the kitchen, touching petals and shaking her head.

My place has had pieces of her in it for a while now. Hair products in my bathroom. A sweater slung over the back of the couch. The tea she likes stocked in the cabinet. A charger plugged in on my nightstand. But tonight, watching her move through the space barefoot and flushed and carrying opening-night flowers, it doesn’t feel temporary.

It feels settled.

Right.

Like the life I’ve been building around her has finally caught up with what I’ve known for a while.

I loosen my tie and toss my keys onto the counter. “Are you hungry?”

She turns toward me with a smile. “A little.”

“I had dinner sent up earlier. Figured you’d want to eat afterward.”

Her brows lift. “You did?”

With a shrug, I move toward the warming drawer. “Yup. Always thinking about you, Hollywood.”

Gratitude flashes across her face. “You’re the best.”

I give her a wink. “And don’t you forget it.”

I plate the food while she puts the flowers in water, and the quiet domesticity of it hits me harder than expected. Chey hums under her breath as I move around her, and when she reaches for a vase, I hand it to her before she has a chance to ask. From the get-go, it’s felt like we’re in sync, and that hasn’t changed.

We settle at the kitchen island to eat, the conversation easy and familiar just like always. She glances around the space, her expression softening in a way that makes my chest constrict.

After a moment, I set my fork down and reach for her hand. “You know this is your home too, right?”

She slides off the stool and steps close enough for my arms to wrap around her.

“I do. Thank you. For everything.”

I rest my chin on top of her head. “I love you, Chey. I really fucking love you.”

“I love you too.”