Ryker
RYKER
The party is Lake’s idea. To say I was surprised when he suggested it is a bit of an understatement, but he looked excited when he casually threw the idea out there one evening while we were hanging out on the couch.
So, we’re having a party. Because I’d give him anything he wants.
“Call it a housewarming while you’re not even moving in. It’s like you don’t want to put in the effort to throw a proper party. This has Lake written all over it,” Rachel says as she walks into the house and hands me a six-pack. There’s no furniture or appliances, obviously, so we bought a few buckets and filled them with ice.
“I didn’t twist your arm,” Lake throws over his shoulder as he walks past us.
“I wanted the free food,” Rach calls after him.
“Somebody’s easy,” Kelly says from behind her, earning himself a punch on the forearm.
“Which of those walls can I knock down with a really big hammer?” Rach asks.
I look around the foyer at all the walls I’d like to keep. “None of them?”
“Oh, come on. Even a small one? How about I make you a new door somewhere?”
“I’ll let you know,” I say.
She smacks a kiss on my cheek and walks toward the living room.
Sawyer and Kelly file in and go after her, and I close the front door behind them. The house is full of sounds. Music is playing, and it mixes with the voices floating toward me from the living area.
It’s a housewarming party in name only. In reality, it’s a sort of coming-out party. Not that we’re calling it that. Not that we’ll be making loud declarations or banging forks against champagne glasses to demand attention and announce that it’s him and me. Together. For the world to see.
Nothing like that.
It’s unnecessary. Not something I feel the need to do. And Lake… Well, Lake would rather stick toothpicks into his eyeballs than turn coming out into a spectacle.
We’re doing this our own way. Quiet. Low-key. A soft launch. Most people here already know, and the few who don’t can draw their own conclusions. It doesn’t matter because we both trust everyone we invited. I doubt any of them will react in an unexpected way. They’ll just be happy for us.
I head to the living room, where my eyes immediately find Lake. He’s talking to Kian, Laurent, Laurent’s wife, and Hayes, a bottle of beer in his hand, and his gaze lands on me as if I’ve summoned it. A small, secret smile appears on his lips as he nods at something Kian says.
I go to him and attach myself to his side. He wordlessly hands me his beer, and I take a drink.
“How’s the food?” Lake asks.
The kitchen is ancient, but the oven works. We rented a long table and folding chairs for the occasion. The plates are paper, and the silverware is made of cornstarch, so this affair is not exactly going to be classy, but I don’t think anybody’s going to mind.
“The lasagna’s cooling,” I say.
“You two made us a home-cooked meal?” Laurent’s wife, Eloise, asks. “Show-offs.” Her tone is teasing, and we all laugh.
“That’s all on Ryk,” Lake says and points his thumb toward me. “I would’ve ordered pizza. I wasn’t even allowed to help.”
“Your help involves eating the ingredients.”
“I have to test them.” Lake shrugs.
“For?”
“Poison. What else? You have to be more careful now that you’re a celebrity and stuff.”
I throw my arm over his shoulders and start to steer him toward the table. “Come on. Let’s go eat, and you can die for me if it turns out the lasagna has been tampered with.”
“Oh, this looks so good,” Eloise says when she takes a seat just as I slide the pan onto the middle of the table.
“Dig in,” I say, like a proper mother hen.
And they do.
After dinner, we all sit around the table. It’s getting late, but nobody’s in a hurry to leave yet. The window is open, and cool night air wafts in through it. The music is just loud enough that it creates a pleasant background noise.
Eloise leans forward on her elbows and moves her finger between me and Lake. “So, how long have you two been together?”
Lake glances at me and sends me a quick smile before he looks at Eloise again. “Almost three years soon, officially. We’ve known each other since we were kids, though.”
“Sweet.”
“Christ, no. Lake was anything but sweet,” I say with a grin, which makes Eloise laugh and Lake raise a brow before he rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, he’s right about that. But Ryk happens to have the patience of a saint, so it works out.”
His arm is on the backrest of my chair and occasionally his fingers move over the skin just below where the sleeve of my T-shirt ends. He does it almost absently, and warmth spreads through my chest every time he does it.
“It’s a front,” I say. “The whole I-scowl-all-the-time-and-like-nobody. He actually is very sweet underneath it all.”
Lake sends me an unimpressed look. “Are you trying to rehabilitate my reputation? Because they’ll know you’re lying sooner rather than later.”
“You are sweet,” I say.
“I’m really not.”
“You’re a mushy marshmallow inside.”
“Dear God,” he mumbles.
“He’s kind of right,” Sawyer says.
Lake gives him a look of betrayal.
“Not you too.”
Sawyer shrugs and throws a look my way. “He has all your texts.”
I have no idea what he means by that, and that must show on my face.
“He has all your texts,” Sawyer repeats. “I’m talking, all of them. From the time he got his first phone. He has them all. He used to have this ancient Motorola, remember?”
I nod.
“He still has it safely stored in some box because he couldn’t transfer those messages to the next phone he got. So, yeah, he has every single message you’ve ever sent him. Even the basic ones. I’m pretty sure there are dozens of them that just say ‘Hi’ because you were clearly a real smooth talker at eleven.”
I turn to look at Lake, who’s currently busy throwing Sawyer a sour look.
“Really?” I ask.
He tries to look annoyed, but he fails miserably.
“I… I have a soft spot for you,” he says.
I stare at him. He shrugs.
And then I lean toward him, take his face in my hands, and kiss him.
Hayes claps me on the back and says goodbye, then heads to the Uber waiting at the curb. I go back inside and close the front door behind me. All the guests have left.
Lake is cleaning the last of the plates off the makeshift dining table. He’s already stacked the folding chairs in the corner and closed the window and the door that leads to our tiny backyard.
He looks up and smiles when he hears me come in.
“All good?” he asks.
I’m not a hundred percent sure exactly what he’s referring to, but I nod anyway because it’s always all good when I’m with him.
He yawns and looks around the room.
“I think it’s all pretty much done here, too, so we can head home.”
He flicks off the light, so only the one in the foyer is on. The room is dim, bathed in moonlight. Lake starts to move past me, and I step into his path, so he walks right into me.
His grin is wide and happy.
“Hi,” he says.
I smile back and take his hand in mine.
“Dance with me.”
He raises his brows and glances toward the speaker in the corner of the room. It’s been playing a random playlist the whole evening and is now playing some rap song.
“Romantic,” my husband says.
I grin at him, pull my phone out and quickly switch the song. Lake sends me the softest look when “Baby, I’m Yours” starts to play.
I take his hand. He steps so close that we’re plastered together.
My lips are by his ear, and I start to sing softly. He exhales and laughs.
When he kisses me, everything feels about as perfect as it could possibly be.
His soft lips on mine.
His chest against my chest.
The two of us together.
My heart in his hands and his in mine.
And we dance in the faint moonlight in our kitchen.
In the middle of the night.
Just him and me.
Just forever.