Page 102 of Sweet Sinners
She takes a sharp breath, eyes flashing with irritation as she steps back, arms crossing defensively. "Connor, we didn't discuss—I mean, that was something we should’ve decided together. Jesus, you—"
"Angel," I cut her off gently, closing the distance again. I cup her face in both hands, holding her firmly, making sure she hears me. "I love you. Not halfway, not in secret, not only when things are easy. Completely. Recklessly. Forever." My thumb strokes gently over her trembling lip. "I refuse to let you hide from this or pretend it isn't real. You’re mine, Cali. And I'm yours. And I want everyone to know."
Her breath hitches, those beautiful eyes softening, uncertainty melting into quiet vulnerability. She searches my face, voice barely above a whisper. "Connor…we didn’t even discuss this. It’s such a huge—"
"I don't need to discuss loving you," I say softly. "I just do."
She blinks once, then twice, fighting a smile. "What did they say?"
I exhale, smiling slowly. "At first, they laughed. Then your grandma said it actually made sense, something about blaming it all on the Gods. They’re supportive, Cali. And they're coming here for Christmas."
Cali stares up at me, mouth slightly open, then bursts into a shaky, relieved laugh. She shakes her head, disbelief written all over her beautiful face. "God, you're impossible."
I grin, pulling her into me, lips ghosting over hers. "And you love me anyway."
She melts into me, eyes softening, surrendering to the truth. "Always," she breathes against my mouth. "I love you more than I've loved anything, Connor. More than anyone. And I'm done hiding it, okay?"
Her words sink deep, filling every empty space inside me, calming every lingering doubt. "Good," I murmur roughly, holding her tighter. "Say it louder."
She draws back just enough to meet my eyes, her gaze fierce and certain, the Calliope I fell hopelessly in love with. "I love you," she repeats, voice steady, sure, like it's her greatest truth. "I'll love you through every scandal, every whisper, every damn obstacle they throw at us. Because you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."
My chest tightens, breath catching at the sheer power of her words. I stroke her cheek softly, memorizing this moment, this feeling.
I nod, drawing her closer until nothing exists but us. "No more darkness, Cali," I whisper fiercely. "Just this sweet feeling, just you and me."
Her smile deepens, her eyes glowing with warmth as she seals the promise with a kiss that feels like the beginning of everything we've fought so hard for.
And finally, it feels like we've won.
Cali
Epilogue
Two Years Later
Glass walls surround me, the soft glow of string lights reflecting gently against their polished surfaces, casting fractured rainbows across the wooden floors. Greenery spills from every corner—lush, wild vines and blooming flowers thriving beneath the glass ceilings, creating a sanctuary that's somehow both elegant and unruly. Exactly like the man who created it.
Exactly like us.
Connor's restaurant,The Glass House, is everything we've built together—an elegant, unapologetic blend of our past and the future we once thought impossible. At the center, beneath a vaulted ceiling of glass where the stars spill like diamonds across the night sky, stands a breathtaking Angel’s Trumpet, its soft, white blossoms spilling downdelicately, beautiful and dangerous. A subtle, constant reminder of every scar, every secret we’ve conquered, every twisted path we walked to find our happiness.
My gaze sweeps over the intimate gathering, warm laughter filling the glass-enclosed space. Yiayia and Papou sit close, eyes bright and proud as they watch Connor move confidently through the restaurant, completely at ease in his dream finally fulfilled.
Across from them, Maya—officially retired but still a constant presence in our lives—lifts her glass toward me, a soft, affectionate smile on her lips. My heart tightens at the simple gesture. Even now, she's the grounding force I need, the woman who taught me family isn't just blood but love and loyalty, unwavering.
Dean sits a few tables over, his girlfriend nestled comfortably against him. After countless awkward apologies and late-night conversations, we've rebuilt a friendship I genuinely value. He catches my eye and gives a small nod, smiling warmly, the past finally settled between us. Near the back, Mr. Sinclair laughs at something his wife whispers, completely relaxed for once, his sharp-edged seriousness softened tonight.
Warmth spreads through my chest as Connor glances back at me, his green eyes blazing, possessive yet tender. It still steals my breath away, how deeply he loves me. How fiercely I love him.
My husband.
The word still feels surreal—but perfect. Everything we've built feels like a dream. From the expansion of my father’s empire into sustainable shipping that I personally pushed for, to the haven Connor created from his passion, we've carved out happiness in places others insisted we didn't deserve.
And we've done it openly—together—refusing to hide from the whispers and judgments. There are still lingering glances, mutedgossip, reminders that our story isn’t conventional. But every glance just makes me hold Connor’s hand tighter. Every whisper strengthens our resolve.
Connor approaches slowly, eyes bright, confident—so different from the man who first walked back into my life. His presence commands the room effortlessly, his smile drawing me forward until his hands cup my face, pulling me in for a gentle kiss.
“You look beautiful, Mrs. Mitchell,” Connor murmurs against my lips, his voice low and possessive, the words sending heat flooding through me.
