Page 104 of One Billion Reasons

“Is this why you wouldn’t let me see your back?”

“Yep,” I mumble into the mattress.

“What prompted you to get it?”

I turn my head to the side. She presses her fingers into my skin, and I groan softly. “That day stuck with me. We were, what? Twenty-four? Liam was gone that weekend. I had you to myself for the whole time. Do you remember?”

“I do.” She kneads my shoulders. “I was excited to hang out with you. We played beer pong on the deck. One-on-one. I lost, of course, but you drank the beers for me so I wouldn’t get wasted. I thought, at one point, you would kiss me.” Her words are quiet. I tip her off my back so I can see her face. She settles on the pillow next to me. Her cheeks are pink, and her hair is just blonde wisps around her head.

“I wanted to kiss you. Right when we took that picture. I told myself to do it, that you wanted it. But I didn’t. I was a fool. I wasted so much time.”

Lane is shaking her head. “Don’t say that. If we’d been together then, we might not have made it until today. So I wouldn’t change a thing. Because I want you forever.”

I loop an arm around her waist and pull her under me so I can kiss her. “You’re mine. Forever.” I kiss her again and damn, if it isn’t the best kiss I’ve ever received.

EPILOGUE

Lane

I wake to strong arms scooping me out of the bed. I press my cheek into Miles’s chest and breathe in his scent. Faint cologne, warm skin, coffee.

Coffee.

“Where are we going?” I mumble as he moves through the house.

“You said you wanted to take sunrise photos on Christmas morning.” His voice rumbles through me, amusement clear in his tone.

“I take it back. Put me back in the bed.”

“You told me—and I quote—even if I beg you, don’t let me go back to bed.”

“Doesn’t sound like something I would say,” I grumble and he laughs.

“Come on, Laney. Open your eyes.”

He sets me down and I finally crack my lids.

We’re in the kitchen of the Montauk house. It’s all natural wood and light blue fixtures. The picture window displays the edge of the garden, dusted with snow. Snow.

“Snow,” I breathe.

“I know.” Miles’s mouth hitches up at the side as he scans me. “Merry Christmas.” He passes me a mug of coffee.

“Merry Christmas. You should have told me about the snow. I would have jumped out of bed myself.”

“And steal the pleasure of carrying you to the kitchen? I don’t think so.”

He’s not kidding around. I can see it in his eyes. The way they soften when he looks at me, the way he smiles more now. He genuinely means it was a pleasure to hold me close. He touches me every chance he gets, and I do the same, like we’re making up for the lost years of craving each other.

“What if we went back to bed together?” I raise my eyebrows, and his focus intensifies.

“As much as I would like that, we’re wasting the light.” He sighs.

“You sound like me.”

“Come on.” He turns for the foyer. “Jackets.”

We bundle into our shearling boots and parkas. He zips mine up to my chin before kissing me. I sway forward when he breaks the kiss.

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