Page 47 of The Words of Us

The next morning, I wake before her, the soft light of dawn spilling through the curtains. I sit up slowly, careful not to disturb her, and slip out of bed. I pause for a moment, watching her sleep, and my chest tightens with love. It’s overwhelming sometimes, how much I feel for her. How much I know she’s changed my life.

I head into the kitchen and start brewing coffee, the rich scent filling the apartment. It’s one of our favorite rituals—mornings spent sipping coffee, reading poetry, talking about everything and nothing. The kind of mornings I never thought I’d have with anyone, let alone with someone like Evie. Someone who saw through all my walls and chose to stay.

As the coffee drips, I wander over to the window and look out at the city. New Orleans is waking up, the streets slowly coming to life. I love this city—the energy, the people, the way it feelslike home. But what I love most is that it’s where we found each other.

Evie joins me a few minutes later, her hair a little messy from sleep, one of my shirts hanging loosely off her shoulder. She smiles at me, that soft, lazy smile that always makes my heart skip a beat.

“Morning,” she says, her voice still husky from sleep.

“Morning,” I reply, handing her a cup of coffee.

She takes a sip, closing her eyes in appreciation. “Perfect as always.”

We settle onto the couch, the quiet of the morning stretching out between us. It’s comfortable, this silence, and I feel a sense of peace that I never thought I’d have. We don’t need to fill the space with words; we’ve reached a point where just being together is enough.

But after a while, Evie sets her cup down and looks at me, her expression thoughtful. “I’ve been thinking,” she says slowly, her eyes meeting mine.

“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow, curious. “About what?”

“About the bookstore. About us. About what’s next.”

I nod, leaning back into the cushions. “Go on.”

“I’ve been wondering if maybe we should do more with the poetry nights, maybe even start publishing some of the work that comes out of them. We could turn the bookstore into a real hub for the community. What do you think?”

I consider her words, a smile tugging at my lips. “I think it’s a brilliant idea. You’ve built something amazing there, and I’d love to see it grow.”

Her face lights up with excitement, and she leans forward, her eyes sparkling. “You really think we could do it?”

“I know we can,” I say, reaching out to take her hand. “We’re a good team, remember?”

She smiles, squeezing my hand. “We really are, aren’t we?”

As the day goes on, we work on plans for the bookstore, jotting down ideas and brainstorming how we could turn our little shop into something even bigger. The excitement is palpable between us, and I love seeing her so passionate about this. She’s always been the heart of the bookstore, and now she wants to share that heart with even more people.

Later, after the plans have been made and the excitement has settled, we find ourselves curled up on the couch again, this time with a bottle of wine and soft music playing in the background. The sun has set, and the apartment is bathed in the warm glow of lamplight.

Evie’s head rests on my shoulder, and I run my fingers through her hair, feeling the familiar pull of desire building between us. It’s a different kind of desire now—more mature, more grounded in the life we’ve built together. But it’s no less intense.

I tilt her chin up, brushing a kiss against her lips. “You know,” I murmur, my voice low, “I’m still not tired of you.”

She smiles against my mouth, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw. “Good. Because I’m definitely not tired of you.”

I deepen the kiss, letting it linger, savoring the taste of her. Her hands move to my waist, tugging me closer, and the heat between us grows. It’s a slow burn, the kind that comes from knowing each other inside and out, from years of trust and love. Every touch feels like a promise, every kiss a reminder of how far we’ve come.

We don’t rush. There’s no need to. We have all the time in the world.

Later, we lie tangled together in the sheets, the night quiet around us. Evie is draped across me, her head resting on my chest, her breath slow and even. My hand moves in lazy circles on her back, and I feel a deep sense of contentment settle over me.

“I love you,” she whispers, her voice soft in the darkness.

“I love you too,” I reply, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

She shifts slightly, looking up at me with those eyes that always manage to steal my breath. “Do you think we’ve made it?”

I smile, my heart swelling with affection. “Yeah, I think we have.”

We’ve built a life together—a life full of love, trust, and understanding. It wasn’t always easy, but it was always worth it. And now, as I hold her close, I know that we’ll keep writing our story, one day at a time.

Because this? This is what I’ve always been waiting for.

And I’m never letting it go.

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