“I didn’t see any reason to. I’m moving to Texas in less than a week. Even if we did talk things out, there isn’t a future for us.”
“That’s valid.” A rare glimpse of fleeting compassion crosses Karis’s face. “This sounds like it calls for another round of drinks,” she declares and saunters over to the bar, no doubt to fill Gage in on the gossip.
She returns with another tray, this time with enough drinks for everyone, with some to spare. The rest of the night passes by without any more unwelcome intrusions. The drinks keep flowing, and no one brings up Nathan again. I get more and more tipsy with every drink, and my hands roam over Morgan’s body with a mind of their own.
“All right, pretty girl, let’s get you home.” He catches my wandering hands before they end up somewhere indecent.
Home sounds perfect.
He helps me to the door, keeping an arm firmly around my waist the whole way. I stumble over the cracks in the sidewalk in my high-heeled death traps, but he doesn’t let me fall. The world spins slightly, leaving me unsteady on my feet. I may have had a drink or two too many. My ankles wobble again, and he pauses to sweep me up into his arms.
“You don’t need to carry me,” I argue, but my body tells a different story as I sink into his hold.
“Just relax. We will be home in a few minutes.”
“Okay,” I tell him in a whispered slur. My eyes start to drift shut against his chest. “I love you.”
“I love you too, James,” he says, placing a soft kiss on my forehead.
I’m asleep before we cross over the threshold, but that’s okay. I was home the second he held me in his arms.
Epilogue - Morgan
In the nearly empty apartment, the songs blaring from James’s speaker warp and echo to an almost unrecognizable state. She doesn’t seem to mind—as long as it’s loud and bassy, she’s content—but the unnatural sounds add to the festering sense of wrongness that bubbles under my skin. With each frame I stow away into the filling boxes, that churning grows. My feelings aren’t mirrored in my girlfriend. She dances around the kitchen without a care, individually cocooning each mug in a layer of bubble wrap before placing it in a labeled box.
It’s all so different from the day I moved in. My shabby boxes weren’t labeled, and there was no method to the madness in which I shoved them into my car. They just had to fit. Looking at the neat stacks of boxes, it’s clear there’s no way everything would fit in that old hatchback now. I remember seeing that picture of James—not knowing who she was—and thinking that her boyfriend was the luckiest man in the world. I was wrong, though; I am. That photo was replaced with one from the first time we went to the Renaissance Festival together, and over the past two and a half years, our walls became packed with photos of our adventures.
I hate that they’re getting packed away. Each time I put a photo in a box, my gut churns with unease. I know the fear is unfounded—we are moving across town, not putting them away forever—but the act feels wrong.
The biggest difference from the day I moved in is my relationship with my roommate. I never would have guessed the she-devil who stood in the doorway and told me where to stick it would be the love of my life, but she is. I knewwithin that first week of us being together officially that I was going to marry her. After everything that happened with Tanner, I’ve been careful not to push her too quickly. I also wanted to finish school first. That didn’t stop me from asking my mom for Nana’s ring the first time I took her up to Michigan to meet my parents. I asked Reed for his blessing a few months later, but I’ve been holding on to the ring, waiting for the right time.
Joining her in the kitchen, I wrap my arms around her waist. She melts into my touch, pressing her entire body against mine with a content sigh. Even now, my heart still flutters with her causal affection. I nuzzle my face into the side of her neck and squeeze her tighter.
“I’m done in the living room,” I murmur into her hair. “Where do you want me next?”
“Where I want you will only slow us down,” she says with a laugh as she grinds her ass against me. She twists to face me and places her arms around my neck. “Where I need you is a different story. Do you think you could start on our clothes?”
“Of course, pretty girl.” I can’t resist the urge to pull her in for a kiss.
I mean for it to be chaste, but she isn’t having that. She threads her fingers through my hair and deepens it, licking and biting at my lips until I grant her the access she desires. This woman is a siren. It only takes one hit of her addictive touch, and I’m painfully hard. Wrapping my hands under her ass, I lift her and place her on the counter. She hooks her feet around my legs and pulls me in closer, grinding her hot core against my throbbing erection.
This is not where I meant for this to go, but it’s not surprising. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get enough of her. As much as I’d love to bend her over this counter one last time and fill her until we’re both seeing stars, we don’t have time for that.
I should be a saint for having the willpower to pull away. Our breaths mingle in the space between us as I try to fully regain my self-control.
“If we don’t stop now, there’s no way we’ll get everything packed by morning.” Those words are painful to say.
“Fine, go,” she says with an adorable pout. “We can pick this back up later.”
“I’m counting on it.”
I shoot a wink in her direction before I disappear down the hallway. The task in front of me is more daunting when I’m looking it in the face. I’ll start in the closet. The bulk of the clothes are in there, and hangers should be easier than digging through the drawers. There isn’t any method to my madness as I pile the eclectic mix of cloth and colors onto the bed. Once the closest is empty, I tackle the dresser, packing the items into boxes on the floor. Something hard and decidedly not a sock catches my attention in the back of a drawer. I fish it out and find a small box wrapped in tattered paper.
Wait, I know this box.
It’s the same one I planned to give James that first Christmas before everything got…complicated. I can’t believe she still has it—unopened, too. I grab it and rejoin her in the kitchen.
“Look what I found,” I tell her as I hold up the small package. Her eyes flare and her mouth gapes.
