Page 273 of Better When Shared
Aimee’s eyes widened before a grin split her face. “Oh my god, you listen to my show? That’s amazing! I have so many questions for you too. Would you consider being a guest? The perspective of an older woman on modern relationships would be incredible content.”
“Older woman,” Hui sniffed, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. “I prefer ‘wise elder.’ And yes, I would be delighted to share my insights.”
While my grandmother and Aimee fell into rapid conversation, Kiaan approached Ryker, their eyes meeting over my head. The moment crackled with tension before Ryker reached out his free arm, pulling Kiaan into our embrace. The three of us stood there, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other’s air, reconnecting.
“I can’t believe you guys flew out here on a private jet,” Ryker said, his voice rough with emotion. “It’s way too much.”
“Blame Kiaan,” I said, even as I burrowed deeper into their shared warmth. “He’s the one with more money than sense.”
Kiaan beamed. “Just trying to be a good boy for you! We missed you.”
“I missed you guys too. And I’m so fucking glad I’m moving,” Ryker said.
Epilogue
Kiaan
I paced the hardwood floors of our new living room, checking my watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. My stomach twisted with a familiar mix of excitement and terror as Ryker adjusted a vase of wildflowers on the coffee table. In an hour, Skylar would walk through that front door, and our lives would either slot perfectly into place or crumble around us.
“She’s going to love it,” Ryker said, his calm voice cutting through my spiraling thoughts. He stood in a shaft of late afternoon sunlight, looking so at home in this space we’d created together that my chest ached.
“You don’t know that,” I countered, resuming my pacing. “What if she hates it? What if—”
“Kiaan.” Ryker caught my arm as I passed him, stopping me in my tracks. “Breathe.”
I inhaled deeply, letting his steady presence anchor me. The past month had transformed us both. Ryker had wrapped up his life in Denver, transferring to the San Juan Island Fire Department with surprising ease, and I’d hired a house sitter to watch my Malibu house, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to have a place at the beach when we wanted a vacation.
And now here we were—moved in, unpacked, waiting for our third to complete us.
“I just want it to be perfect for her,” I admitted, surveying the space we’d created.
Ryker snorted. “Is it possible that surprising her by finishing the renovation while she was on that sailing trip wasn’t the best choice if it’s giving you this much anxiety?”
I stuck my tongue out at him, and he laughed.
The house wasn’t ostentatious by my standards—a renovated farmhouse with four bedrooms, two offices, a gaming room in the basement, and a large kitchen that opened to a living area with vaulted ceilings. But compared to Skylar’s tiny house, it was a mansion. I’d wanted to go bigger, more luxurious, but Ryker and Skylar had reined me in, claiming they wanted something more homey.
And it was, not just because of my money, but because Ryker had been working on it for the past few months, with project after project that showed his loving touch.
“It doesn’t have to be perfect,” Ryker said, guiding me to the oversized sectional we’d chosen specifically to accommodate all three of us comfortably. “It just has to be ours.”
“Did we pick the right kind of washer and dryer? I can have them replaced before she gets here—”
“Kiaan.” Ryker’s voice carried a gentle command that always made my racing thoughts slow. “The washer and dryer are fine. The house is great.”
I collapsed onto the couch beside him, leg bouncing with nervous energy. “I’ve never done this before.”
“What, bought a house?”
“No,” I said, staring at my hands. “Asked a woman to marry me. Us.”
Ryker’s arm slid around my shoulders, pulling me against his solid warmth. “Welcome to caring about people more than yourself, Kitten. It’s scary as fuck, but worth it.”
I leaned into him, still marveling at how natural it felt to be touched by him, to be held by him. A man. Not that I’d ever looked at another man the way I looked at Ryker. In the month since our Denver reunion, I’d had plenty of opportunities to test that theory. Plenty of attractive men had crossed my path, and I’d felt absolutely nothing. No stirrings, no curiosity, no desire.
But Ryker? The moment his arm wrapped around me, heat bloomed in my chest and spread lower, an automatic response I’d stopped fighting weeks ago, my hole fluttering with the insistent need to be stuffed full of him.
“What if she thinks the house is too much?” I asked, voicing my deepest fear.
