Epilogue
One Year Later
Morning sun streamed through the curtains of the bedroom, warm and dappled, and Deb blinked her eyes open. She didn’t move at first. She had learned, over the last year, that mornings were a delicate ecosystem: one wrong shift of her body and the whole thing went sideways.
She wanted to yawn. She wanted to stretch. But there were impediments.
She was curled on her left side with Hayley tucked perfectly into the curve of her, the quintessential little spoon.
Hayley was soft and warm and smelled like shampoo and sleep and the faint remnants of last night’s lavender lotion.
Her hair was sticking up in a way that defied physics. Deb adored it.
And then, of course, there was the additional obstruction.
From her right shoulder down past her hip, Cory was draped across her like a fur-lined sash, purring as though his life depended on it. His blue eyes were half-slitted in bliss. He looked smug.
Deb couldn’t help grinning.
“Well, as long as you’re comfortable, huh, handsome?”
“Always the most important thing,” Hayley mumbled, voice thick with sleep and amusement. “Good for him that he is ridiculously good-looking. I heard him horking up a hairball a couple hours ago.”
Deb groaned into her pillow. “Oh, man.”
“As usual, I am leaving it to you to hunt down the mess.”
Hayley’s sleepy snort broke into a soft laugh as she continued, “I love Cory. But I do not Hairball Hunt love him.”
“That’s fair,” Deb conceded, though her pout was real. She had hoped—naively, romantically?—that when they moved in together, Hayley would magically become the kind of person who discovered and cleaned up cat puke as a love language. Alas. Reality was cruel.
Still, Hayley cooked like a goddess and performed witchcraft-level miracles on laundry. Deb’s hospital coats had never been whiter. Her scrubs smelled like sunshine and competence.
So she supposed she could shoulder hairball duty for the rest of her natural life.
Before she could shift, Cory stood up, stretched, and—as was tradition—placed one perfectly weighted paw directly onto Deb’s left boob, using it as a springboard. He launched off her body, soared over Hayley like a show pony, and landed with an audible thump on the floor.
Deb’s gasp of pain was dramatic. “He… He did that on purpose.”
Hayley squirmed around to face her, eyes sparkling even in sleep’s afterglow. She cupped the afflicted boob gently. “Aw, poor baby.” She stroked soothing circles with her thumb. “That is what you get for adopting a small horse as a house pet.”
“He was a kitten,” Deb protested weakly. “I didn’t know what I was in for.”
“Mm hm. Denial at its finest.” Hayley’s teasing softened, heat blooming in the hand still on Deb’s breast. “Lemme kiss it better.”
Her voice was a purr now, rich and promising.
Before Deb could respond, Hayley slung one slender thigh over her hips and straddled her.
She was wearing only the tiniest gray tank top and pink bikini panties that nearly made Deb see God.
Hayley lifted the stretched neckline of Deb’s battered UT t-shirt and eased her breasts free, lowering her mouth to kiss the bruised spot.
Then lower.
Then gently around the nipple, which immediately hardened under Hayley’s deft, wickedly soft touch.
A whimper slipped out of Deb before she could stop it.
Hayley’s hand drifted down, slipping under the waistband of Deb’s boyshorts. Long, slow strokes. That perfectly unhurried teasing that always made Deb forget her own name.
Hayley loved her like this—lazy and warm morning sex where everything unfolded like a secret between them. No rush. Just the slow build of heat through their bodies, waking them fully in the best way possible.
Deb arched helplessly under her touch, pleasure tightening low in her belly until she couldn’t hold back. She came hard, breath catching, body shaking beautifully. She collapsed into the mattress, boneless and dazed.
Hayley pressed a final kiss to her lips, then started to slide off the bed.
Deb caught her hips. “Hey now, let me return the favor.”
“You don’t have work today. I do.” Hayley kissed her again—soft, warm, maddening. “I’m going to let you make it up to me tonight when I get home.”
Deb perked up instantly. “Should I start with ordering your favorite Mexican takeout?”
Hayley’s whole face lit. “I would love chicken and sour cream enchiladas from Dos Locos, yes please.” She wriggled free, stretching like a smug cat. “And a big batch of their fresh tortillas. With queso dip.”
“Your wish is my command.”
Deb watched her walk out of the room, admiring the exceptionally wiggly exit. That ass could solve world peace.
She lay back, hands behind her head, heart full.
Life was good—better than good. A year ago, she and Hayley had been firing snark at each other across the ICU like it was ammunition. Now they shared a home. A bed. A cat. A life.
They had been living together for three months and Deb had never been so content.
They were the kind of team she’d secretly always wanted—at work and at home. Deb’s ER unit ran more smoothly than it ever had, and Hayley’s floor had streamlined transfers like a well-oiled machine. They could communicate more with one look than some nurses could manage in a ten-minute huddle.
And after long shifts? Coming home with each other—or to each other—was like walking into a warm bath after a hailstorm.
They talked. They touched. They laughed. They cooked. Deb had begun reading more books—romances, because she claimed research—and Hayley had started taking bubble baths, which she claimed were hydration-related, but Deb knew were actually stress relief in disguise.
They had a spring trip planned to Thailand. Deb’s first passport stamp. Hayley’s fifth. Deb was so excited she checked flight prices every few days even though the trip was already booked.
Ruby had been right: enemies-to-lovers wasn’t just for books.
It had worked out better than anything Deb had ever tried.
They still had explosive arguments sometimes—both of them were passionate, opinionated, and a touch stubborn—but they never went to bed angry.
And the make-up sex? Unreal. Orgasmic diplomacy. World-class conflict resolution.
Deb hadn’t known life could be like this.
Hayley bustled back into the room, now fully awake and energized. She carried a big bowl and two spoons.
“One bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch with real milk,” she announced dramatically as she climbed into bed. “To celebrate the special occasion of you having a day off.”
Deb stared at her. At the bowl. Then at her again.
This never got old. How had she gotten so lucky?
Hayley scooped the first bite into her mouth with such exaggerated concentration that the messy blonde bun on her head bounced with each crunch. Deb snorted.
“God, I love you,” she murmured.
Hayley paused mid-chew, then swallowed. Her whole face brightened into a sunshine smile.
“Well, I love you, too.”
Before Deb could get her spoon into the bowl, Cory trotted back into the room with the swagger of someone who believed—incorrectly—that he paid rent. He leapt onto the bed, sniffed the cereal, and chirped, angling his head toward the milk.
“Fine,” Deb sighed fondly. She dipped her fingertip into the milk and offered it.
Cory licked it with great passion.
Hayley leaned her head on Deb’s shoulder, sighing happily as they ate.
Life, indeed, was very, very good.
As the evening approached, Deb ordered the enchiladas and queso from Dos Locos, tidied the living room, lit one of Hayley’s favorite candles, and changed into the soft navy lounge set that Hayley once said made her look “dangerously huggable.”
Cory supervised all preparations with a critical eye.
At exactly 6:42—Hayley’s very specific time of arrival—the door clicked.
Deb perked up like a puppy.
Hayley stepped inside, hair escaping her bun, cheeks rosy from the cold. She looked exhausted. And beautiful. And hers.
The moment Hayley saw Deb, her shoulders eased. Her whole expression softened.
“There’s my girl,” she breathed.
Deb walked over, took her bag, and kissed her slow and deep.
Hayley melted into her instantly.
“Food’s on the counter,” Deb murmured against her lips. “Cory already tried to break into the bag twice.”
“Sounds about right.” Hayley kissed her again. “I missed you.”
Something warm unfurled in Deb's chest. “I missed you, too.”
They ate curled up on the couch, sharing bites, trading stories about work. Hayley ranted about an attending with a God complex; Deb ranted about a patient who insisted Google knew more than she did. They laughed. They kissed between forkfuls.
After dinner, they showered together—lazy, warm, lingering touches, steam swirling around them. Hayley pressed Deb to the tiled wall at one point, but Deb swatted her hand away with a teasing grin.
“Uh-uh. Tonight I get to take my time with you.”
Hayley shivered. “I like that plan.”
Later, wrapped in blankets, Deb made good on her promise—slow kisses, soft hands, loving touch. Hayley came undone beautifully, whispering Deb’s name like a prayer.
Afterward, they lay tangled together, skin against skin, Cory wedged between their ankles like a sentient foot warmer.
Hayley brushed a thumb over Deb’s cheek. “Can you believe it’s been a year?”
“No,” Deb said honestly. “And also yes. Because it feels like I’ve known you forever.”
“We were such idiots,” Hayley whispered, laughing into Deb’s neck.
“The worst idiots.”
“And now look at us.”
Deb did look. At their home. Their cat. Their bed. Their life.
And she loved every thread of it.
“I think we turned out okay,” she murmured.
Hayley kissed her forehead. “I think we turned out perfect.”
Hayley shifted, lifting Deb’s hand and pressing it to her chest. Her heartbeat thudded steadily against Deb’s palm.
“I’m really happy,” Hayley whispered. “Like… stupidly happy. With you.”
Deb’s eyes stung. “Me too.”
They kissed softly, sleepily.
And as the candle flickered out and Cory settled into a new position of maximum inconvenience, Deb thought:
Life is really, truly, impossibly good.
And it was.
And it would be.
For a long, long time.