AFTER MIDNIGHT HITS, I carry Bex to bed.
She’s a little tipsy, her breath smelling like Irish cream, cheeks flushed, mouth slack. I am too; the longer we played the game, the more Bailey’s we added to our hot chocolates. Cooper pulled out a completely improbable win after the back-to-back bankruptcies of Seb and Bex, and that came hours after my parents bid us goodnight.
She fits right in with my family, just like I thought she would. My mom loves her. And the more time Dad spends with her, the more he’ll love her too. I’m totally biased, sure, but she’s impossible to resist.
I set her down on the bed gently, pulling off her sweater so she won’t get hot in her sleep. She whines, reaching for me when I move away to fold it and set it on my desk. Her fuzzy socks have little Santa hat-wearing penguins on them. Almost as adorable as the light-up Christmas tree earrings she wore earlier today.
“Let’s go to sleep,” I murmur, stroking my hand through her tangled hair. “Otherwise, Santa won’t come.”
She cups my jaw. “One day you’ll tell our kids that.”
“Bex,” I say helplessly. Fuck, she’s so pretty it makes my chest ache. Those beautiful brown eyes look at me in my dreams, and every day I wake up grateful I get to see them for real.
“I love you,” she whispers, so quietly I think for a moment I imagined it.
But she keeps looking up at me with confidence shining in her eyes, and I know she really said it.
“Fuck, I love you.” I gather her up into a hug, fisting my hand in her hair. She digs her nails into my back. We stay like that for a long moment, breathing each other in. When I pull away, she has a tear tracking down her cheek. I brush it aside tenderly and kiss her.
“Show me how much,” she says. “Please, James. Show me.”
She peels her shirt off and flings it aside, shivering immediately. I pull her up the bed, settling us underneath the covers. I can’t stop kissing her; every time my lips brush her skin, she whispers encouragement.
I love you. The words are on a loop in my mind and on my lips as we move against each other. I love you. I love you. I say it so many times I get breathless. She’s laughing against my neck, smiling as she kisses me, moving with me in the cool quiet of my bedroom. I’m distantly aware that we’re not the only two people around; that even though it feels like it, we’re not alone in the world. But in this moment, it absolutely does. I’m in the house I grew up in, surrounded by the family I would protect with my life, but never has it felt so real and perfect and like home. Not until now. Not until Beckett.
If I could only pick one person to be around, one person to know, one person to love, for the rest of my life—I’d choose her.
We’re still pressed tightly together when I hear her breathing begin to even out. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, I slip out of her. She turns into my chest, yawning, nestling her head against me.
No, we’re not alone in the world, but right now, underneath the covers—it does feel like we’re in a world of our own.
“One day I will tell our kids that,” I whisper. My heartbeat quickens at the thought. “Because I’m yours, forever.”
