Page 190

“Mya,” I croak, and it’s not enough. It’s not even close to everything she is to me, everything she’s given me, but it’s all I can say before I kiss her.

Because words are too small for this moment.

I kiss her like a promise. Like a vow. Like every chord we ever wrote was just a prelude to this.

She kisses me back like she already belongs to me.

When we finally pull apart, she laughs—a watery, radiant, wreck-me kind of sound—and looks down at the ring still in my hand.

“Well?” she says, voice shaky but sure. “You gonna put that on me or what?”

My hands aren’t exactly steady, but I slide the ring onto her finger like I’ve done it a thousand times in my dreams.

And maybe I have.

Because this?

This is what forever looks like.

Me. Her. The twins behind us like our own tiny audience. The smell of paint and drywall and dust and home. Her hand in mine. A future I never saw coming and wouldn’t trade for anything.

“When the sky falls,” I whisper, pressing my lips to her ring finger, “I’ll still be here. Loving you through the wreckage.”

And this time, when she kisses me?

It tastes like every version of always.

She stares at her ring like she can’t believe it’s real.

Truth is, neither can I.

But then her gaze flicks up to mine, and the way she smiles—slow, stunned, sure—it settles something in my chest I didn’t know was still rattling loose. Like the last piece of the storm finally went still.

We’re nose to nose. Her forehead brushes mine. My hand’s still curled around hers like I’ll forget how to breathe if I let go.

And then the first wail pierces the quiet.

Followed a half-second later by another, like a matching stereo system of chaos and need.

I glance over my shoulder, suppressing a laugh. “Well. So much for our cinematic moment.”

Mya groans, collapsing into my chest. “Seriously?”

“Guess they weren’t feeling the romance,” I tease, brushing my lips against her temple. “Tough crowd.”

She laughs into my hoodie, the sound muffled but golden. “Okay, Romeo. I think your audience is demanding an encore.”

I stand, offering her a hand, and we both make our way to the car seats like it’s some sacred pilgrimage—her with one shoe half off, me trying to wrestle the ring box back into my jacket pocket while a baby screams like I personally offended him.

Kody’s the louder of the two, cheeks flushed and fists balled like he’s ready to throw hands with the universe. Kingston’s more of a slow burn—whimpering, hiccupping, already reaching for Mya with those wide, watery eyes.

“Oh, my dramatic little kings,” she coos, lifting Kingston into her arms and bouncing him gently. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I feel like this is karma,” I say, unbuckling Kody and lifting him to my chest. He immediately grabs a fistful of my hoodie and tries to climb my face. “We kissed too long. Universe was like: You’re parents now—wrap it up.”

Mya smirks. “Bet it still beat their diaper blowout timing from last week.”

“Oh yeah. Romance is alive and well, baby.”