Epilogue
Jif swiped a thick, glossy coating across her lips, then adjusted the fall of her cowl neckline. The pink satin mini had always been Miles’s favorite, and Jordan’s diamonds rested between her collarbones, so beautiful she’d never regret wearing them.
Not tonight, when she got to celebrate her brother’s win, even if it meant her beloved Raptors had lost. Not tonight, when she finally got to formally introduce her new (old) boyfriend to her mother.
Not tonight, when news of Corey’s trade to the Tennessee Titans had flooded the evening headlines, a red herring to distract from any residual drama around the Reynolds/Pritchard trade.
Jif cocked her head as the sound of tires turned into her driveway, then hurriedly checked her makeup a final time. A heavy, triple-beat tread climbed her steps, and the doorbell dinged a melody.
“Coming,” she sang out through her cracked-open window.
In some ways, nothing had changed in the months they’d been back together. In other ways, everything had.
Trust had come easily. Some—like her mother—might say too easily, but Jif didn’t question giving Miles a second chance. Though navigating what life together would look like going forward hadn’t been without its hiccups, each day they chose each other, and the rest followed.
Far more surprisingly, the first time Miles had leaned in to kiss her, she’d found herself stopping him.
“I can’t. Not yet,” she’d said, one hand on his chest, her fingers tracing the ripple of muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt, but her heart not ready for more.
She’d kissed a lot of men she hadn’t loved. Miles had always been different, but after their time apart, the new version of herself wasn’t quite as quick to jump back into a physical relationship.
For months, Miles had been the one to pump the brakes, too insecure. Now, she held back, the sting of their separation healing, but not fully healed.
“Consent is sexy,” he’d reminded her. “When you’re ready, I’ll be here.”
Somehow, he always said exactly the right thing, and his words became a promise she could trust in.
I won’t abandon you.
Miles, his button-up sleeves rolled to his elbows, leaned nonchalantly on his cane, shifting his weight slightly as he waited for her to answer the door, a bouquet of sunflowers in his other hand.
Another change; before, he’d resented the limitations, the cane, any reminder he’d need more time and healing to get back to where he’d been.
Now, he’d learned patience. He counted the cane a blessing since it meant he didn’t need a wheelchair or crutches.
He’d never get his old body back, so he had to make his peace with the one he had.
“Wow.” He swallowed hard, throat bobbing, as his eyes drifted down her body, then back up to fix on her lips.
Jif took the bouquet he held out, burying her nose in the petals as she always did, even though they didn’t smell.
“I’ll set them in water. Come on in.”
She spun away, leaving the door open for Miles to follow her at his own pace.
He waited, crowding close behind her, as she tucked the stems into a glass vase and fluffed the blossoms.
“I love them.”
He pulled her toward him, gathering her into his arms and touching his forehead to hers. “I love you.”
The words washed over her like a balm, and her eyes drifted closed. He’d said them before, but the tender sincerity soothed her healing heart every time.
“I love you, too.”
The warmth of his breath caressed her cheek, his fingers tracing lazy circles as they rested casually on her hip, and it took nothing at all for her to tip her head back slightly. To press onto her toes. To seal her lips to his.
His surprise lasted a beat, then he tugged her more fully against him, tangling his other hand in her hair and tilting her chin to plunder her mouth, deepening the kiss as she willingly opened to him.
Fire raced over her skin, the electricity of his touch climbing her spine, heat pooling in her core as she melted against him.
She could stay here forever.
Slowly, the kiss ended, and Miles lifted his head.
Jif blinked, then giggled, swiping her thumb across his lips, painted in glossy, strawberry pink.
“If we keep this up, we’re going to be late,” he rumbled, a reminder and a warning.
Grabbing a tissue, she daubed the color from his mouth.
“So, let’s be late,” she whispered.
A lot had changed, but Miles could still kiss, and for a last first kiss, this one would do.