Page 119 of American Beauty

We clawed our way back to this moment. Back to each other. And now that I have him again, I won’t let go. Not this time. Not for anything.

The server refills our wine, and we lift them in quiet unison, fingertips brushing.

“To surviving the worst.”

He meets my gaze and taps his glass to mine. “To never forgetting what it took to get here.”

Dinner is slow and decadent. He orders the largest steak on the menu—because of course he does. I go for a pasta I can’t pronounce with more garlic than should be legal in the state of Texas.

We trade bites across the table like it’s second nature, like we’ve been doing this for years instead of falling back into each other’s rhythm after months apart.

Alex cuts a piece of his steak for me and lifts it to my mouth with a smirk. “You’ll thank me later.”

He tells me about the trouble he and his brothers used to cause Malie growing up—how they’d sneak out to surf before dawn, track mud through the house, and come home with bruises they all swore were from “falling,” not fighting. His grin is wide, boyish, when he talks about how Malie once chased them down the driveway with a wooden spoon, yelling in Samoan, because they’d shaved off each other’s eyebrows on a dare.

I’m still laughing when I reach for my wine, eyes wet with amusement. “That’s wild, but honestly, it kind of makes me think raising a house full of boys wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

He stills, fork halfway to his mouth. “Yeah?”

I glance up, meeting his eyes. There’s something unreadable in his expression—curiosity edged with something softer.

“It’d be pure chaos. Loud. I’m pretty sure, disgusting. But I think I’d love it.”

His mouth curves into a slow, thoughtful smile, the kind that lands somewhere deep in my chest.

I smile back. And that moment stretches, filled with everything we don’t say.

My feelings have changed. Somewhere between losing him and finding him again, I let go of the rules I’d built around my heart. I want love––real love––and a family of my own.

I want forever, and I want it with him.

And if it comes with little Tasmanian devils… well, okay.

But now isn’t the time for that conversation. Not tonight. Not with tomorrow looming. So I take another sip of wine instead and hold on to my secret a little tighter and for a little longer.

His eyes stay on mine, steady as ever, but I can see it—the flicker of something fragile beneath the surface. I notice everything when it comes to him. He won’t say it out loud—I’ve learned that much about him—but he’s nervous about tomorrow.

“Everything’s going to be fine.” My voice is low, keeping this conversation between us in our little corner. “You hear me? You’ve got this, big guy. And you’ve got me.”

His shoulders ease and that little crease between his brows softens.

“You’re not going through this alone.”

His eyes flicker with something quiet. Relief, maybe. Love, definitely.

“I didn’t realize I needed to hear that. I’m glad it’s you who’ll be with me.”

My foot finds his under the table. “I’ll be the perfect nurse and take care of every… single… inch of you.”

His jaw tightens, eyes flashing heat.

“And if you’re a good patient, I might climb into that tiny hospital bed and make you forget you’re supposed to be resting.”

“Take Magnolia three times a day for pleasure.I like that prescription. I’m looking forward to this surgery now.”

Alex unlocks the door,and like always, opens it for me. The moment the penthouse door clicks shut behind us, everything changes.

He shrugs off his sport coat, draping it over the arm of the couch before unbuttoning his sleeves and rolling them up, forearms flexing with each motion. His hair’s a little mussedfrom the night breeze, and it’s somehow sexier than when we left.

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