EPILOGUE — STEPHANIE
Four months later.
"You missed a spot," David says.
I'm on my knees on the kitchen floor of the upstairs unit (our upstairs unit, as of two months ago), wearing the maid costume. Yes. That maid costume. The one I wore a lifetime ago to try to rattle him.
"I did not miss a spot," I say, sitting back on my heels. "This floor is spotless. You could eat off this floor. You could perform surgery on this floor."
"Mmm," he says, raising his eyebrows. "I don't know about that."
He's leaning against the counter in a T-shirt and sweatpants, coffee in hand, doing that thing where he looks at me like he's already deciding what he's going to do to me. "Looks like a spot to me. Right there." He nods at a patch of gleaming, immaculate tile. "Better do it again."
"You're impossible," I say, but I'm already crawling toward it. I hear the mug click down on the counter and feel a tingle run up my spine.
Here's a quick recap of the past four months:
Almost three months ago to this day, John walked out of the company carrying a cardboard box and his tail between his legs.
Two months ago, David put my right to stay in writing, and I officially moved in with him.
One month ago, we had our housewarming party. Philip came, drank all our good wine and gave a toast that was more of a roast. Philip and David are on good terms now.
As nervous as I was about telling people about us, David assured me it would be fine, and he was right. Once everyone saw how great we were together, they got on board.
Speaking of attendees, Mandy also came to our housewarming. For some reason, she personally decided that she's the one responsible for engineering my relationship with David and insisted on telling everyone as much at the party. I've stopped correcting her.
Most importantly, though, every single day, for the past 123 days, David has told me he loves me.
He tells me when I'm both most and least expecting it.
It could be right when I wake up or go to school, or it could be when we're arguing about the thermostat (I like it warmer, and he likes it colder).
I wasn't expecting it because of how hesitant he was to tell me how he felt before we were together, but it's been a pleasant surprise.
I used to think the games David and I played were the whole point. That without the constant tug of war between us, there would be no passion. I thought if I stopped fighting him, he'd stop wanting me.
It turns out I was wrong. Dead wrong.
That's how it was with all of my other exes. When the games died, so did we.
But not with David. When I stopped fighting him, we just grew closer.
It also freed up a lot of energy for both of us. We can focus on bigger fights now. Like John. Or throwing the best housewarming party of all time. Or conquering the world together.
The possibilities are endless.
Because now that we're on the same team?
We're unstoppable.
I look at David, warmth swelling in my heart. He winks at me with those icy blue eyes. The ones that somehow become bluer every single time he catches me staring into them.
"Come here," he says.
And I do.
The End.