Page 81 of Loving Lauren
“My fiancée,” Sierra whispered again, this time into the curve of Lauren’s ear.
Lauren’s laugh was shaky and wet with tears. “I’ll never get tired of hearing that.”
“You won’t have to. You’ll hear it every day.”
They moved together like music, like poetry, with the rhythm of people who had memorized each other’s bodies but still found new ways to be undone. Sierra gasped Lauren’s name; Lauren murmured hers like a prayer.
Later, wrapped in the blue sheets Salem preferred, they lay tangled in the afterglow, the city humming faintly beyond their windows. Sierra’s head rested on Lauren’s chest, listening to the steady beat of a heart she now felt tethered to in every way that mattered.
“I can’t wait to marry you,” she whispered, drawing circles on their skin.
“I can’t wait to be your wife,” Lauren replied, the word tasting sweet and new.
From the windowsill, Salem meowed again, indignant but patient.
“Our cat is jealous,” Lauren said with a sleepy laugh.
“Our cat can wait.” Sierra pulled her fiancée closer. “I’m not done celebrating yet.”
Salem, ever dramatic, flopped onto his side with a thump as if to signal his displeasure. But Sierra barely noticed. The fairy lights still glowed faintly, their joined hands still bore the shimmer of a promise, and her heart still raced with the giddy truth of it all: She had a fiancée.
Forever.
Chapter 51
Their mornings had settled into something beautifully ordinary. Something real. No more waking up in separate beds or wondering what came next. Just two toothbrushes in one ceramic cup, matching mugs with ridiculous puns that made them both laugh, and a perpetually judgmental black cat who absolutely refused to let them sleep past seven.
Lauren always looked impossibly good in the morning light, barefoot, swimming in Sierra’s old hoodie like it had always belonged to them, dark hair tousled in every direction. Some days, Sierra would pause in the middle of pouring coffee or checking her phone, caught off guard by a wave of gratitude so intense it made her chest tight. This was her life now. This person, this home, this quiet domestic happiness she’d never dared to hope for.
They’d fallen into rhythms that felt inevitable. Weekly movie nights, always hosted at their place because they had space for everyone. Quiet dinners where they took turns cooking; Sierra had mastered the art of seasoning, while Lauren could makegarlic bread that was basically illegal in its perfection. Evenings spent working side by side at their kitchen table, Sierra editing photos while Lauren sketched new makeup looks, their legs touching underneath like the most natural thing in the world. Sierra found herself loving the way Lauren hummed while they worked, or how they’d get ink smudges on their fingers and never noticed.
These weren’t grand gestures. They were the moments that built a life.
“Okay, hear me out on this,” Lauren said one evening in late spring, curled up on their couch with a wedding planning binder open in their lap and a glass of red wine balanced carefully in their free hand. “The park where it all began. Fairy lights everywhere. Maybe that good taco truck from downtown.”
Sierra grinned, looking up from her own wine. “God, marry me already.”
Lauren gave her a look of mock exasperation. “I literally already said yes. We’ve got the ring and everything.”
Sierra leaned over to rest her head on Lauren’s shoulder, fingers playing with the soft edge of their shared blanket. “It sounds absolutely perfect. Though maybe we upgrade from the taco truck to something slightly more wedding-appropriate?”
“Fine, but I’m holding firm on the fairy lights,” Lauren’s voice was warm and steady in a way that still made Sierra’s heart skip sometimes. “And we don’t have to wait forever to make it happen. I’ve been saving money, and I think I have enough for a small ceremony.”
Sierra sat up to look at them properly. “So do I, actually, but yours is the money you set aside to scale up your business.”
Lauren suddenly looked vulnerable. “I’ve been thinking that I want to use that money to build this with you first. The wedding, the life we’re making. I don’t want you carrying everything on your own. I want to show up as your partner in every way.”
“You could show up in a garbage bag and I’d still cry through the entire ceremony,” Sierra teased, making Lauren laugh despite the serious conversation. But Sierra caught the deeper worry flickering behind Lauren’s smile, the old fear of not being enough.
“Love,” Sierra took Lauren’s hands in both of hers, “we’re already building a life together, and if we’re talking about what comes next... maybe we don’t stop at wedding planning.”
Lauren tilted their head. “What do you mean?”
Sierra’s heart pounded, but she smiled. “I mean, if we wanted to... I could come off birth control. We could think about starting a family.”
Lauren went still, eyes wide. “Are you serious?”
“I am. One baby, two babies, whatever feels right for us.” Sierra squeezed their hands. “And if we do this, then we save together afterward for whatever else you want to do next. Wedding, family, your business, a house, our hopes and dreams... all of it. We’ll make it work together.”
