THEO
I woke up slowly on Sunday morning to soft morning light spilling through the windows, warming my cheek.
For a second, I didn’t move—just lay there with my eyes closed, trying to decide if it was possible to slip back into slumber for another hour.
But then the mattress shifted beside me and a warm, feminine body moved closer, tucked against my chest like she belonged there.
Nora.
My eyes popped open, and the memory of last night washed over me.
The offer to be her fake boyfriend.
The bonfire and how it felt to have her in my lap.
And then everything that had happened after that in this room. In the dark. In this bed.
A sharp, vivid image of Nora’s mouth moving with mine flashed through my mind.
The way she’d caught her breath when I’d pulled her closer.
The way she’d held onto me like she didn’t want to let go.
Yeah. I definitely wouldn’t be forgetting that kiss anytime soon.
Maybe ever.
I drew in a slow breath through my nose, allowing her perfumed hair to fill my lungs.
We both must have slept hard after everything last night, because hours later, we were still in the same position we’d fallen asleep in. Nora’s back was pressed to my chest, my arm still draped around her waist.
I studied her profile in the pale light. The curve of her cheek. The line of her nose. The freckles scattered across her skin like little constellations.
I had the ridiculous urge to count them.
To memorize every single one.
Nora shifted in her sleep and nestled closer, her hips nudging back so her butt pressed more firmly against my hips.
And even though I tried not to notice, my body responded instantly to the movement, heat coiling low in my stomach before I could stop it. I held still, breathing through it, trying not to be the guy who woke her up because he couldn’t control his own reaction.
Was she waking up yet?
I glanced at her face again, searching for any sign that she was regaining consciousness.
But she wasn’t.
She was still very much asleep, just peaceful.
And that made my chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with nerves.
It felt nice to know that she felt comfortable enough with me to be able to sleep so soundly.
But even though she seemed to be okay with everything right now, the questions were still there, lined up and waiting for me the second she opened her eyes.
Would she still be okay with waking up like this?
Would she still want me when the morning made everything clearer?
Or would daylight make her wish she could rewind the whole night and pretend it never happened?
I thought about the kiss again, letting myself replay it for a beat longer.
Two weeks ago, even the idea of kissing her had sent me spiraling. The dream that I had on the night of Ian and Maddie’s wedding had messed with my head for days—like my grief had decided to weaponize my own desire.
Like wanting something again meant I was doing something wrong.
So I braced for it now, waiting for the guilt to rush in. Waiting for my stomach to twist. For that cold, punishing sense of betrayal.
But it didn’t come.
Instead, I felt calm.
Steady.
Grateful.
Like some part of me had finally learned the difference between moving forward and leaving someone behind.
But even with how good I felt about the kiss and everything we’d done, I was also thankful that we’d been able to stop before things had gone further.
Because as much as my body had wanted to keep going, the rest of me knew if we’d crossed that next line last night, I might have woken up panicked. Spinning. Second-guessing everything.
But this?
Having her in my arms with her fingers still laced with mine, it felt right.
Like we were starting something that didn’t need to be rushed.
Nora made a soft sound, almost like a sigh, and her fingers tightened around mine.
Which made me smile.
Because even half-asleep, she didn’t want to let go, either.
I swallowed, my gaze drifting back to her.
Her hand relaxed a second later, her grip loosening as she shifted slightly against the pillow. Then her eyes slowly blinked open. She turned her head just enough to look at me.
And for a second, neither of us said anything.
We just looked at each other.
Like we were both trying to figure out what this was now.
“Morning,” she said, her voice thick with sleep.
“Morning,” I replied, my voice coming out rough as well.
She glanced down briefly, like she was just noticing how close we were. And when she looked back at me, her eyes widened slightly.
Like she was also remembering everything that had happened the night before.
“So,” I said, clearing my throat and pushing myself up onto an elbow. “How did you sleep?”
How are you feeling?
Are you okay?
Do you have any regrets?
My mind raced through all the questions I wanted answers to. Needing to know where we stood and if she was okay with everything we’d done.
“I slept really well,” Nora said, rolling over so she was facing me straight on. “You know, once I actually fell asleep.”
The corners of her mouth were tipped up like she was amused at herself. Like she was fine. More than fine.
And the tightness I’d been carrying in my chest for the past few minutes eased.
“That’s good,” I said, meaning it. Because a small, irrational part of me had been waiting to open my eyes and find her already dressed, regretting everything, and halfway out the door with a polite smile and an excuse.
Instead, she looked relaxed. Warm. Like waking up in my arms hadn’t scared her one bit.
“What about you?” she asked, tucking her hands under her head like she had nowhere else to be. “Did you sleep okay?”
“I did,” I said. And I could’ve left it at that. But since I wanted her to know that I didn’t have any regrets about anything we’d done, I added, “You’re pretty great to wake up next to.”
Her smile widened instantly, brown eyes bright and a little shy. Then, reaching forward with one hand, she took my hand in hers and wove our fingers together. “I’m glad you seem okay with everything that happened.”
Her eyes searched mine, slow and careful, like she was looking for any sign I wanted to take anything back.
I tightened my fingers around hers, then lifted her hand and pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles.
“I’m very happy with how things went,” I said.
“Good,” she breathed.
For a few seconds, we just lay there, staring at each other in the soft morning light, the air between us quiet but charged. Her auburn hair was a mess. Mine probably was, too. The sheets were twisted around our legs. Her scent was still all over me.
And even though this was all new, it somehow just felt so right.
I cleared my throat, mostly because if I stared at her for too long, we might get sidetracked again and find ourselves too wrapped up in this newfound closeness to make it to breakfast.
“So,” I said, brushing my thumb over her fingers, “do you know what the plan is for today? Does everyone just kind of do their own thing while they’re here?
Or are there group activities?” I paused, thinking of Lia and Romeo’s garden party.
“Any surprise competitions we need to emotionally prepare for?”
“Definitely no competitions.” Nora laughed, the sound light and happy. “Ky is way nicer than that.”
“That’s a relief.”
She seemed to think for a second, her gaze drifting to the ceiling fan as it turned. Then she shrugged. “It’s usually pretty chill. We hang around the house during the day. Hit the beach or hang out by the pool. Just take it easy.”
“That sounds nice.” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a lazy weekend.
Charlotte was much too high-energy for anything like that.
“And what about evenings?” I asked. “More barbecues and bonfires?”
“Sometimes,” she said. “But we usually go out at least once or twice. Have dinner at some nice place in town or go to a club.” Her mouth curved. “Just depends on how everyone is feeling.”
“That sounds great to me.”
“Good,” she said, her voice warm. “It’s usually just really laid-back.”
“And we’re still doing the Hastings’s yacht thing on the Fourth, right?” I asked.
“That’s still the plan as far as I know,” she said.
“I heard that Ian’s siblings took over the planning for that party this year since Ian has been on his honeymoon.
But last I heard, they’ll have space for us to spend the night on the yacht if we don’t want to head back to shore after the fireworks. ”
“Nice,” I said, imagining what a party on a billionaire’s superyacht would look like. Then glancing down at our joined hands, I asked, “Should we expect the same room pairings?”
“If you don’t mind,” she said, looking up at me through her long brown eyelashes. “I think that’s what most people plan on, at least.”
“Perfect.”
Because if that meant another night with her tucked against me, her legs tangled with mine under the covers, I definitely would not complain about it.
Nora’s expression softened then, like she was thinking the same thing, but neither of us said it out loud.
After a beat, she finally shifted, stretching her legs under the sheet. “We should probably get up before Ky comes to check on us.”
“Yeah.” I huffed a quiet laugh. “You’re probably right.”
We took turns in the bathroom, the same unspoken rules as last night. Give each other space. Pretend we weren’t both hyperaware of the other person being five feet away.
“You ready?” I asked when we were both dressed and back in the room.
“Yep.” Nora nodded. Then reaching for my hand, like it was just something we did now, she said, “Let’s go.”