Chapter 27 Savannah #3
"How was your evening?" he asks as we settle into the car, his mint and expensive cologne scent wrapping around me like the world's most attractive security blanket.
"Enlightening," I tell him, buckling my seatbelt while trying not to stare at the way his dress shirt pulls across his shoulders in ways that should be illegal in at least twelve states. "Emma force-fed me champagne and life advice."
"Both essential nutrients for optimal best friend maintenance." Xavier pulls away from the curb with careful precision because he drives the way he does everything else, with complete competence that makes me feel absurdly safe. "Did the life advice take?"
I glance over at him, taking in his perfect profile and the way his hands look gripping the steering wheel like he was born to be in control of vehicles and situations and possibly my entire cardiovascular system, and something settles into place in my chest.
"Maybe."
We drive through downtown Pine Hollow in comfortable silence, passing the wedding venue where our lives changed, the bakery where Griff engineered cake architecture like he was designing the Sistine Chapel of desserts, the little shop where Xavier noticed what I wanted and remembered to get it.
Everything feels connected somehow, like all the pieces of our impossibly complicated puzzle are finally clicking together in ways that make actual sense.
"Xavier?"
"Hmm?"
"Thank you. For the pillows. For picking me up. For..." I gesture vaguely, trying to encompass everything I can't quite put into words yet without sounding like a complete emotional disaster.
He glances over at me, and something in his expression shifts. Instead of turning toward home, he pulls into the empty parking lot of Pine Ridge Park and puts the car in park, and suddenly my heart is beating so loud I'm surprised it's not audible in neighboring counties.
"Savannah," he says, and my name on his lips sounds different somehow. More intimate. More weighted with possibility and things I don't dare hope for.
"Yeah?" The word comes out barely above a whisper because apparently my vocal cords have completely abandoned me when I need them most.
Instead of answering, he reaches over and cups my face in his hand, his thumb tracing the line of my cheekbone with gentle precision that makes my brain completely short-circuit. "I need you to know something."
My heart hammers against my ribs like it's trying to escape. "Okay."
"The pillows weren't just practical. Picking you up wasn't just convenient. None of this is just anything." His thumb traces across my lower lip, and I completely forget how to breathe like a normal human being. "I'm falling for you, Savannah. We all are. And I need you to know that before..."
"Before what?"
He leans in close, his breath warm against my skin. “Finally,” he mutters, voice low and rough. His hand cups my cheek, fingers brushing lightly over my jaw. I shiver under his touch.
His mouth presses against mine, slow at first, like he’s tasting me for the first time all over again.
He growls softly, a sound that rumbles through his chest and vibrates against my lips.
His tongue traces the curve of my mouth, gentle but insistent, asking for permission without needing to hear it.
I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His hand slides into my hair, fingers threading through the strands as he deepens the kiss. He holds me like I’m the only thing that matters in the room, like he’s been waiting for this moment forever.
His lips part slightly, his tongue slipping inside to explore, warm and demanding.
I taste him: salt, something woodsy, a hint of mint that makes my head spin.
He murmurs my name between kisses, each one slow, deliberate, claiming.
His hands never stop moving, stroking my face, tracing the line of my neck, anchoring me to him.
I’m lost in the feel of him, in the heat of his mouth and the strength of his hands.
When we finally break apart, both of us breathing hard enough to fog the windows, he rests his forehead against mine.
As we drive through the quiet streets toward home, toward Logan's steady presence and Griff's gruff affection and the life we're building together one awkward conversation at a time, Emma's words keep echoing in my head.
About grabbing happiness with both hands.
About finally being ready to want something just because I want it.
About going home to three men who buy me pillows and pick me up from friend dates and kiss me like I'm precious and worth fighting for.
I’m finally ready to believe I deserve good things. Emma’s wedding is two days away, and everything is falling into place like puzzle pieces that actually give a damn.
It’s my turn now. The universe must have gotten bored, and decided to cut me some slack. I belong here with them in this perfectly messy, beautifully chaotic life that finally makes sense.
It’s about time, universe. Thanks for finally showing up with my happy ever after.