I met his gaze, finding myself anchored by the steady warmth in his green eyes.
"This is real," he said simply. "What we have—all of us—it's real. The feelings, the connection, the way you light up when Christopher teaches you something new or when Julian looks at you like you're the center of his universe. It's all real."
His hand found mine, fingers intertwining with gentle certainty. "And even if it feels fast, even if it's unconventional, that doesn't make it any less valid. Some people spend years building what we found in weeks."
I squeezed his hand, feeling the truth of his words settle into my bones."I love you," I whispered, the admission slipping out before I could stop it. "I love all of you, and it terrifies me how much."
Miles's breath caught, his eyes widening slightly before his expression softened into something that made my heart ache with its tenderness. "I love you too, Lili. More than I thought possible."
He leaned closer, his free hand coming up to cup my cheek. "And you don't have to be scared of that," he murmured, his thumb brushing along my cheekbone. "Love isn't something to fear. It's something to celebrate."
I leaned into his touch, my eyes fluttering closed as his words washed over me. The gentle breeze carried the scent of wildflowers and pine, mingling with Miles's own familiar scent. When I opened my eyes again, he was watching me with such admiration that it made my breath catch.
"May I kiss you?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion.
Instead of answering, I closed the distance between us, pressing my lips to his with newfound confidence. The kiss was unhurried, a slow exploration rather than a desperate need. Miles's hand slid from my cheek to tangle in my hair, cradling my head as if I were something precious. I melted against him, my hands finding his shoulders as the kiss deepened, becoming something more than gentle exploration. Miles pulled me closer, his arm wrapping around my waist until I was practically in his lap, our lunch forgotten beside us.
The sunlight filtered through the oak leaves above, dappling our skin with golden patterns as we lost ourselves in each other. Miles's kisses were intoxicating—thoughtful and thorough, as if he were memorizing every sigh, every shiver that passed through me.
"Miles," I breathed against his mouth, my fingers threading through his hair.
He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against mine as we both caught our breath. "Yes?" His voice was rough, deeper than usual, sending a shiver down my spine.
"I want..." I hesitated, suddenly shy despite the heat building between us. "I want more."
Miles's pupils dilated, his breathing becoming more ragged as he seemed to try to compose himself, “I’d love nothing better than to give you more . But I want you to experience camping and if you are wanting more by the end of the night…. I will happily do so.”
I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face, both disappointed and charmed by his restraint. "You're really committed to this camping experience, aren't you?"
"I want it to be perfect," Miles admitted, brushing his thumb across my lower lip. "And I don't want to rush anything. We have all the time in the world."
The tenderness in his voice made my heart swell. This wasn't rejection—it was care, consideration, the kind I'd never experienced before. I nodded, pressing a soft kiss to his palm.
"Then show me more of your grandmother's land," I said, letting him help me to my feet. "I want to see everything."
Miles's smile was radiant as he gathered our half-eaten lunch, carefully wrapping everything before taking my hand. "There's a wildflower meadow just beyond those trees that have a small waterfall.”
We spent the afternoon exploring every corner of the property, Miles sharing stories about his childhood summers as we wandered through the meadow he'd mentioned. The waterfall was small but enchanting, cascading over moss-covered rocks into a clear pool that reflected the sky like a mirror. I pressed more flowers into my journal, sketching rough drawings beside them while Miles built a small cairn of stones by the water's edge.
"Another offering for the creek guardians?" I teased, watching him carefully balance the final stone.
"Old habits," he said with a grin, but there was something reverent in the way he placed it, as if the ritual still held meaning for him.
As evening approached, we returned to camp where Miles showed me how to build a proper fire. His hands guided mine as we arranged kindling, his patient instruction reminding me of Christopher's cooking lessons. The first spark caught, and I felta surge of pride as the flames grew, dancing and crackling in the stone circle.
"I did it," I breathed, watching the fire take hold.
"You did," Miles confirmed, his voice warm with pride. "Natural outdoorswoman."
I laughed, settling back on the log bench he'd positioned near the fire. "Hardly. But I'm learning."
As twilight descended, Miles unpacked the evening meal Christopher had prepared—foil packets filled with seasoned vegetables and chicken that we placed directly on the hot coals. The scent of herbs and spices mingled with woodsmoke, creating an aroma that made my mouth water. While we waited for the food to cook, Miles produced a small battery-powered speaker from his backpack.
"Music?" he asked, scrolling through his phone. "Or would you prefer just the sounds of nature?"
"Music," I decided, curious about his taste. He selected something soft and acoustic, a melody that seemed to blend perfectly with the twilight sounds around us—crickets beginning their evening chorus, the gentle babble of the creek, the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. The music settled around us like another layer of warmth, complementing rather than competing with nature's symphony.
"This is perfect," I murmured, hugging my knees to my chest as I watched the fire dance. The flames cast Miles in a golden glow, highlighting the planes of his face and the warmth in his eyes as he watched me.
