Page 45 of Ready or Not
It softened the jagged edges I used to shield myself, made me want to be braver than I'd been in years.
“I say…” My voice trembled, but I didn’t stop this time. “I say we try.”
THE END
EPILOGUE
FIVE MONTHS LATER
“Desss,”I giggled. “I gotta gooooo. They’re waiting for me.”
Laid up in Desiderio’s bed with his head nestled on my bare stomach, he hummed a low, lazy protest. His fingers traced absent-minded patterns along my rib cage as though he were drawing constellations only he could see. His breath warmed my skin, and for a moment, I forgot about the world waiting beyond his bedroom door.
“They can wait,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. “You’re not going anywhere… not yet.”
I laughed softly, threading my fingers through his curls.
Some days were always like this—with him—this dangerous pull that made time irrelevant and responsibilities feel distant.
But I couldn’t afford to let him win today.
Not this time.
Having just returned from a DJ gig in London three days ago, I assured my best friends that I’d join them for our monthly adulthood brunch recap. Naomi had an important announcement to make, and knowing her? It was bound to be something dramatic.
Besides, I couldn't skip it, especially after avoiding them for the last seventy-two hours, holed up in his apartment like we were both lovesick fugitives.
“I can’t,” I insisted, half-heartedly. My resolve was crumbling quicker than sugar in warm tea. “I haven’t seen the girls in two weeks.”
“And you haven’t seen me in what? Close to a month now, thanks to work?” he tilted his head to look up at me, pouting. “You owe me some time, too.”
“I know, but…”
He pulled the covers over his head and muttered something incoherent.
“Des,” I said again, firmer this time, though my resolve wavered as his lips brushed just below my belly button. “Seriously, I have to go. I promise I’ll be back.”
He groaned, threw the covers off his face, and rolled onto his back, throwing an arm across his eyes in exaggerated defeat. “You’re cruel, you know that? You’re heartless, mami.”
I propped myself up on an elbow, peering down at him. The sight of him naked in his bed, all dazed curls and that maddening pout—he was almost about to make me reconsider brunch entirely.Almost.
“Heartless?” I repeated, tracing a finger along the edge of his jawline. “You’re the one trying to kidnap me.”
He dropped his arm and tilted his head toward me, dark eyes glinting like he was plotting something mischievous. “Is it kidnapping if I don’t want my girlfriend to leave?”
Girlfriend.
Still getting used to the sound of that word.
Though it’d been four months since he made a grand gesture to ask me to be official—roses, candles, a playlist of all my favorite songs, and cake that asked the big question—it still made my stomach flip every time he said it.
Girlfriend.
It felt foreign and thrilling all at once, like I’d stumbled into a shiny new reality we were building together.
I rolled my eyes, but my cheeks betrayed me with the faintest warmth. “That’s not how it works.”
“Pretty sure it is,” he countered, pulling me down by the wrist until our faces were inches apart. His grin was wicked, as if he knew exactly how torn I was. He let the silence hang there, his breath brushing against my lips, daring me to close the space between us. My resolve wavered again, my willpower slipping like water through clenched fists. It was unfair, really, how easily he unraveled me with a single look, a single touch.
