Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
That was just the beginning
SOPHIE
The morning light is soft and golden as it filters through the gauzy curtains. I blink awake to the sound of waves in the distance and the warmth of Micah beside me. The sheets are cool where I’m not curled against him, but he’s already propped on one elbow, watching me like I’m something precious.
He convinced me to skip my classes today so we could sneak away for a last minute birthday trip.
Probably a terrible idea—especially since I have Constitutional Law, my hardest class—but honestly, I didn’t need that much convincing.
The chance to escape with Micah, even just for a day, was too tempting to pass up.
“Good morning, birthday girl,” he murmurs, his voice rough from sleep.
I smile, still blinking against the light. “Hi.”
He leans in and presses a soft kiss to my temple, then my cheek, then lower—trailing heat down the side of my neck. “I ordered breakfast,” he says. “But I need something sweet first.”
I let out a sleepy laugh, fingers curling against his chest. “There's some candy in my bag, I think.”
He pulls back just enough to look me in the eyes. “Not that kind of sweet.”
Before I can respond, he's pulling the sheets down, slowly and deliberately.
He lifts my sleep shirt, pressing his mouth to my stomach, my hip, the inside of my knee—each kiss unhurried, like he has all the time in the world.
His hands are warm and steady on my skin, and every place his lips land feels like it catches fire.
"Micah," I whisper, my breath unraveling.
He glances up at me, eyes dark but impossibly soft. "Shh. Just let me take care of you."
And he does. Slowly, thoroughly, until I'm trembling beneath him and gripping the sheets and whispering his name like my life depends on it.
The warmth keeps building, winding tighter and tighter, and just when I think I can't take any more of it, something gives—everything in me pulls taut and then breaks apart at once, and I hear myself cry out, my fingers tightening in his hair.
He stays with me through all of it, unhurried, reverent, holding me steady while I come back down.
When he finally crawls back up, he presses a kiss to my forehead, then settles beside me, pulling me against his chest. His heartbeat is steady under my cheek.
"Happy birthday, Sophie," he whispers, brushing his lips against my ear. "That was just the beginning."
The wind bites at my cheeks as we walk along the shoreline.
The ocean stretches endlessly beside us.
It’s colder than either of us expected, but I don’t mind.
Especially not when I'm wrapped in Micah's scarf, still holding the warmth of him. I’m pretty sure he tucked it around me just so he wouldn’t have to see me shivering.
Still, my nose is practically frozen.
“You’re turning into Rudolph,” he teases, grinning down at me. “It’s cute. In a frostbite kind of way.”
I try to glare at him, but the wind is too brutal, and I’m too busy trying not to smile. “Remind me why you thought a beach trip in November was a good idea?”
“Because,” he says, stopping in front of me, “It’s romantic. Even if we’re both freezing our asses off.”
I roll my eyes, but he takes my hand and tucks it into his coat pocket along with his own. His palm is warm, and he brushes his thumb lightly over my knuckles. My heart flips a little too hard.
We eventually find a cafe inside the resort and sit at a table after ordering coffee.
“How’s your day so far?” he asks after a few quiet sips.
I glance at him, at the soft golden light catching in his lashes, at the way he always looks a little too good to be real.
“It’s the best day I’ve ever had,” I say honestly. “Like ever.”
He leans back in his chair, arms folded casually across his chest, mouth twitching like he’s trying not to smile too much.
“I wanted to take you to Bora Bora,” he says after a beat. “And let you write on the beach all day.”
My eyes snap to his. “You remember that?”
“Of course I remember,” he says, like it was never a question.
I just stare at him, stunned—and still not used to someone paying attention to the things I say when I’m not trying to be heard.
“But with school and everything else, we don’t exactly have time to fly across the world,” he continues. “So I found the nicest beach resort I could within driving distance. It’s not Bora Bora, but I figured it could still be memorable.”
Then his voice softens. “And I will take you there. One day. I promise.”
All I can think—like I have, countless times since meeting him—is how did I get so lucky?
There are two boxes waiting on the bed back in our room.
One is long and flat, wrapped in matte black paper with a gold satin ribbon tied cleanly across the top. The second—slightly smaller—sits just beside it. No card or note. Just a quiet kind of anticipation hanging in the air.
“What’s all this?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder at him.
Micah’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching me like he’s been waiting for this moment all day. “Birthday outfit,” he says. “For dinner.”
My brow lifts. “You picked out an outfit for me?”
He shrugs, but there’s a pink flush creeping up the side of his neck. “I’m not sure if you’ll like it, but I saw it and thought of you.”
He says it like it’s nothing. But his voice is softer than usual.
I move closer and untie the ribbon from the larger box first, carefully peeling back the tissue paper.
Inside is a long black silk dress.
Simple but elegant. It’s breathtaking.
The fabric is weightless beneath my fingertips—cool, smooth, and whisper-soft.
It has thin straps, a subtle cowl neckline, and dips just slightly lower in the back.
I hold it up against my body. There’s a high slit on one side that’s more suggestive than revealing.
It’s understated in the most stunning, timeless way.
I run my hand down the length of it, and my heart quietly spirals.
“It’s beautiful,” I murmur, barely above a whisper.
I lift the second box and pop the lid.
Inside are a pair of delicate black heels—sleek and minimal, with thin straps that wrap around the ankle and a thin heel. They match the dress perfectly.
“How did you know my size?” I ask, turning to him.
His lips curve into a grin. “Come on, baby. You should know by now that I’m obsessed with you.”
I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head as warmth spreads through my chest.
“I wanted tonight to feel like something,” he says, quieter now. “Even if we’re not in Bora Bora.”
I glance down at the dress and heels again, my fingers brushing the silk like it might disappear. Then I look up at him.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” I say, voice barely above a whisper.
“I know,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “But I wanted to.”
MICAH
She’s been in the bathroom for nearly twenty minutes now.
I’m already dressed—black button-down, sleeves rolled, no tie. I sit back on the edge of the bed, watching the ocean through the floor-to-ceiling window, but I keep glancing toward the door like it might open sooner if I will it.
“You okay in there?” I call out.
“I borrowed some of Poppy’s makeup,” she says through the door. “But I think I did it wrong. My eyeliner’s uneven.”
I smile. “I’m sure you look perfect.”
There’s a pause. “That’s because you haven’t seen me yet.”
I want to tell her I don’t need to. That she could walk out here in a hoodie and a bare face and I’d still be like the luckiest guy alive. But I don’t say any of that. I wait.
And then the door opens.
And I forget how to breathe.
The dress fits like it was made for her—long and black and impossibly elegant.
Her hair’s tied in a low bun, her skin glowing, her lips a little shiny from gloss.
But it’s the look in her eyes—uncertain, like she doesn’t quite believe she belongs in something this beautiful—that knocks the air from my lungs.
She tries readjusting the dress. “Too much?”
I shake my head. “No. You’re perfect.”
She fidgets. “You’re staring.”
“I’m trying not to.” My voice comes out lower than I meant. Rougher. I clear my throat and stand, walking over to her. I lean down, brushing my lips just behind her ear. “But fuck, Soph. I can’t wait to rip this off you after dinner.”
Her breath hitches, and I grin when I feel her melt a little.
Dinner is intimate. The restaurant glows gold under soft lights, and every table is set perfectly. Sophie orders something she can’t pronounce and laughs when it ends up being her favorite thing on the table. She tries every dessert on the sampler plate and insists on feeding me her favorite bite.
When we walk out into the hotel lobby, she’s smiling in that sleepy, sugar-drunk way she gets when she’s full and happy.
“I’ve never had a meal like that in my life,” she murmurs. “The bread came with its own butter course.”
I chuckle and lead her back to the room.
Once we’re inside the room, I reach into the nightstand drawer and pull out a box wrapped in deep brown paper with no ribbon this time—just clean folds.
“What’s this?” she asks, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“Birthday gift. Part two.”
She unwraps it carefully and lifts the lid.
Her eyes go wide.
Inside is a brand new MacBook Pro, a leather notebook with her initials pressed into the bottom corner, and a custom Montblanc fountain pen in glossy black and gold.
For a second, she just stares. Then, “Micah.”
I will never get tired of hearing her say my name.
“Your laptop barely stays on unless it’s plugged in, and I’ve seen you trip over the charging cord,” I say. “And I know you’ve been writing a lot in your notebook between class and work shifts, so I wanted to give you a new one to use when you’re done with it.”
She swallows hard. “This is too much. You can’t—this pen probably costs more than my rent. I can get free ones at the student center. And my computer still works.”
“It’s not about the pen, Soph.” I step closer, gently taking the box from her hands and setting it on the dresser. “It’s not about any of it. I’d get you a hundred of them if you wanted. Just say the word.”
She opens her mouth to argue, but I cut her off, gently.
“You deserve to be spoiled,” I say. “Let me be the one to do it.”
She blinks fast. I know she’s trying to hold back tears.
I reach up, brushing my thumb over her cheek. “And I know you’ve been struggling with your course load lately. I think it’s because—” I hesitate, then go on. “I don’t think law school is what you really want. Do what you want to do. And let me support you.”
She swallows hard. “But what if—” her voice falters, “What if you and I drift apart eventually?”
“We won’t,” I say, without hesitation. It’s not a line—it’s the truth. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
She studies me, her voice barely audible. “How can you be so sure? We’ve only known each other for a semester.”
“Because I know,” I say. “You’re it for me, Soph. You’re the thing I didn’t know I was waiting for.”
She doesn’t respond right away. Her eyes drop to our hands. My thumb is brushing slow circles over the back of hers.
But then, she lifts her gaze. And she nods.
“I’ll think about it,” she says softly. Then she squeezes my hand. “And…thank you. For all of it. You spoil me, Micah Vale.”
I smile, tipping my forehead against hers.
“I’m just getting started.”