Page 89 of Rizzed Up By My Alien Neighbor
But he did.
Every moment, every misstep, every alien-tinged quip—that was the breadcrumb trail leading here.
The Jalshagar bond might have sparked the connection, but it’s the choosing that made it real. Not fate alone—but trust. Effort. Partnership. Something forged by two people, human and not, who decided this felt worth more than anything they’d ever known.
I shift, lifting my head to meet his gaze. His gold eyes glisten under the porch light—warmth and something deeper, something unspoken passing between us. I clear my throat, voice soft like a promise in the dark.
“I never thought my daughter’s space-dad would also be the love of my life.”
He smiles, small and reverent, as if hearing those words for the first time even though he’s lived them with me for months. I feel the heat rise in my cheeks. “You know,” he says, voice low and steady, “I never planned to find a life here. I planned to fix my ship, save my species, return.”
He trails off, and I squeeze his hand gently.
“But I found you,” I whisper.
He exhales slowly, his other hand rising to cup my face. His skin is warm and real beneath the illusion, and I press closer until I can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat—strong, sure. “Then this is where I belong,” he says, words that sound like home. “With you. With all of us.”
My stomach tightens with a mixture of relief, exhilaration, wonder. The weight of everything we’ve survived—the custody battles, the alien revelations, the mortal threats—they all feel like steps on a journey that led here, to this porch, this moment.
I look down at our joined hands—his massive, scaled fingers wrapped around mine—and I feel a swell of hope that’s bigger than I’ve felt in years. “Me too,” I say. “Me too.”
The porch swing slows to a stop as we settle into silence. Above us, the stars are bright and untroubled, blinking like witnesses in the sky. My heart feels light, in a way it hasn’t since before any of this began.
“What happens next?” I murmur, more to myself than him.
His lips brush my temple. “We choose,” he says.
“We choose what comes next,” I repeat, the certainty in his voice soothing something deep inside me. We’re not just surviving anymore. We’re living. Expanding.
He leans in and kisses me—gentle at first, then searching, as if every taste, every touch, cements the promise of this future. I respond, matching him note for note, until the world outside falls away. The night folds around us, quiet and full, and for the first time since all the madness started, I feel truly safe—protected, yes, but more than that: held. Seen. Loved.
When we pull apart, breathless and smiling, I nuzzle closer. “I love you,” I say, the simplest truth I’ve ever spoken.
His smile deepens. “I love you,” he echoes. “And I will keep choosing you—every day, every fight, every quiet moment.”
I let out a soft laugh. “You’re ridiculously poetic for an alien accountant.”
He grins. “I do what feels right.”
I laugh again, because it’s impossible to resist him. Impossible to resist this.
The night hums with life: nocturnal insects, distant traffic, the gentle resonance of our togetherness. We’re choosing this life—uneasy, unpredictable, but ours. And I know: love isn’t a burden. It’s the strongest force in any universe.
He wraps his arm around me and I rest my head against his chest. “To us,” I whisper.
He presses a kiss to my hair and murmurs, “To us.”
And under the unblinking stars, we sit—choosing. Again. And again. For as long as forever lasts.
We lean there, cradled by the night air—warm, alive—and I press my lips to his chest, listening to the steady thrum of a heartbeat that’s not mine, yet completely feels like home. I smile up at him, breath mingling with his, and whisper, “You know, you make being gross sound kinda… nice.”
He chuckles, low and fond, the resonance vibrating through me like a promise. “I never thought I would survive a superluminal time-fling just to be your neighbor,” he says, voice gentle. “But I find it… optimal.”
I laugh, soft and genuine, because how do you respond to a line like that without falling even harder? I kiss him slowly, lingering—letting the sweetness of the moment reach every corner of me. It’s a kiss full of everything unsaid: gratitude, relief, desire, and yes—love. With every lingering second, I’m reminded that our bond, while once explosive and unpredictable, is now calm, steady. Like a heartbeat I don’t own but that anchors me.
A breeze stirs the leaves overhead, and fireflies dot the yard in lazy, golden arcs. Above, the stars seem to spin lazily across the sky—vast, unknowable, and yet somehow distant compared to the intimacy of this porch, this moment.
We pull apart just enough to look at each other. His golden eyes hold an expression I still marvel at: stunned awe, tempered by a quiet warmth. “Hey… you ready for the family to come out?” I tease, nodding toward the edge of the porch.
