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“She said yes!” Remy shouted, dancing around. “Miss Jo is gonna be my mom!”

“Not Miss Jo anymore,” I said, pulling away from Lane to crouch in front of Remy. “Just Jo. Or Mom, if you want. Whatever feels right to you. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Mom,” Remy said, testing it out. Her smile dimmed a little, and I knew she’d thought of her own mother. “Maybe not just yet,” she said softly.

“Whenever you’re ready, Remy. I’m just as happy with Jo.”

She threw her arms around me, and I held her close, breathing in the scent of her strawberry shampoo.

This. This was everything I’d never known I wanted. Everything I’d been afraid to hope for.

And it was mine.

That night, after celebrating with Julia and Remy, after calling my family and Cameron (who screamed so loud I had to pull the phone away from my ear), after putting Remy to bed and saying goodnight to Julia, Lane and I finally found ourselves alone.

We made it to the bedroom, and the moment the door closed behind us, Lane had me against it, his mouth claiming mine with an urgency that stole my breath.

“My fiancée,” he murmured against my lips. “My future wife.”

“Yours,” I agreed. “Always yours.”

His hands were everywhere—in my hair, on my waist, sliding under my shirt. I tugged at his clothes, needing skin contact, needing him.

We made it to the bed in a tangle of limbs and discarded clothing. Lane covered my body with his, settling between my thighs like he belonged there.

“I love you,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I love you so much, Jo.”

“I love you too. Show me, Lane. Show me how much.”

He did. Oh God, he did.

He worshipped every inch of my body with his hands and mouth. He made me gasp, and every touch made me writhe. He took his time, building pleasure slowly, deliberately, until I was begging for release.

“Lane, please…”

“I know what you need.” He positioned himself between my thighs. “Look at me, Josephine.”

I did. Our eyes locked as he entered me in one smooth thrust, and the intimacy of it was almost more than I could bear.

“I love you,” he said again, starting to move. “I will always love you. Always protect you. Always choose you.”

“Always,” I echoed, wrapping my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.

We moved together, finding that perfect rhythm that left us both gasping. His hands gripped my hips, angling me just right, hitting that spot that made me see stars.

“Jo—”

“I know. Me too. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He drove into me harder, faster, and I felt my orgasm building, coiling tight in my belly.

“Lane,” I breathed, arching.

“Come for me. Let me feel you shatter around me.”

I did. I shattered, crying out his name as pleasure slammed through me. Lane followed moments later, burying his face in my neck.

Afterwards, we lay tangled together, sweaty and sated and complete.