Mina is the reason no other woman ever felt like home.
She tilts her head back, eyes bright in the low light. “I love you.”
Her words are soft. So is her smile. And I know, without a single doubt, she means it.
I drift my thumb across her cheek and steal a kiss. “And I love you.”
“You think one day that might be us?” she asks, nodding toward Ash and Ori, wrapped in each other’s arms as they dance.
“I don’t know. I enjoy being me. Don’t think I’d want to be Ash.”
I’m teasing—mostly. Getting a rise out of my ballerina girl never gets old.
Mina jabs me in the ribs, laughing softly. “You know what I mean.”
Yes. I do.
And despite its being soon, I believe Mina is the woman I’ll marry one day. The woman who will make me a dad.
At least, I hope it’s her.
“Maybe it’s too soon to think like that.” She skews her mouth to the side, a flicker of insecurity rising in her eyes.
Not a chance in hell I’m letting it linger.
“That little girl who used to twirl on the lawn?” I murmur, brushing my knuckles along her jaw. “She dreamed of a stage. A home. Maybe a couple of kids running around.”
She nods—slow and shy, eyes glistening. “She did.”
“I think about that a lot,” I whisper. “What it would be like to give her all of it.”
She seizes my mouth in a fierce kiss, her tongue dancing with mine in perfect rhythm—and I feel my need rising to strip her down and take her right here in this darkened corner.
Hey, Ash and Ori would understand.
The other guests might have an issue with it, never mind how my parents would react.
After all, it’s their first time meeting her—and although she was an instant hit, a visual of her bent over a railing is not a good core memory.
For them.
For me, it’s perfection.
So is she—and I think she’s finally starting to believe it, too.
She bunches my shirt in her hands, rubbing her nose against mine. “I’m holding you to that, you incredibly perfect man.”
“I love you, Mina. I fucking love you.”
I grab her face with both hands, my thumbs brushing her cheeks as I pull her to me. Then I kiss her—deep and unapologetic—knowing we’ve earned this moment and daring the world to take it away.
I’m lost in her. And I don’t care if I’m ever found.
To think I almost didn’t give her a chance.
Someone clears their throat near us, and we pull apart.
I wipe a hand across my chin and grin at my folks. “Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad.”