Bash: Hey, Tripp. Checking in on you. Wanted to make sure you made it home safe.

    Tripp: Yup.hr

    THE DAYS THAT FOLLOW CARRY ON IN A HAPPY, LUST-ADDLED haze.

    Gwen teaches and takes care of Clyde.

    I bowl and work on my mental health so that I can be in proper shape to do the job that I love. Hell, I even attend the odd yoga ss.

    Every day feels better. Thebination of healthy eating, exercise, andpanionship has me feeling lighter overall.

    I would be lying if I said that I’m not avoiding dealing with the Tripp aspect of our current situation. Clyde knows, and aside from the odd incredibly awkward and inappropriatement, he lets us carry on without judgment.

    My room has be our room, and I no longer avoid family dinners with the two of them. Still, knowing that Tripp left town on such awkward terms nags at me. It’s been almost a week since Gwen’s party, and he hadn’t contacted me, which made me wonder if Gwen was right—if he was onto us.

    So I figured I’d test the waters by sending him a text this morning. When I got a one-word answer, never has a person overthought the word yup so thoroughly.

    Part of me had enjoyed having Tripp there that evening. In so many ways, it felt like a step forward. Like something that could be possible. Like Gwen and I could build a life in Rose Hill with our friends around us and Tripp could stille to visit.

    Like maybe, just maybe, everything that I wanted was within reach.

    I was ying house in my head, avoiding the reality of having to tell him. But now a thread of worry has taken hold. One I can’t shake.

    My brain circles back to the words I might use to exin how everything got soplicated.

    I met her first.

    I couldn’t help myself.

    I tried to stay away.

    I’m sorry I didn’t try harder.

    I want you in my life, but I can’t give her up.

    Please forgive me.

    I met her first.

    I met her first.

    I met her first.

    I keeping back to the childish retort. Like somehow it excuses every decision I’ve made since meeting her. But the truth of the matter is I did meet her first. It was only one night, but in an endless sea of nights that were only ever numb, she made me feel something.

    And that feeling has never left me. I’ve clung to it almost desperately. A beacon of light that has kept me swimming through rough waters. And only recently have I really had to grapple with the fact that I have no intention of letting that feeling go.

    Of letting her go.

    I’ve enjoyed living in our happy bubble, and I’m not ready to burst it. After wanting Gwen for so long and being alone for so many years, arge part of me is desperate not to disrupt the peace. That’s why I’m sitting on the back deck, waiting for her toe home from yoga, with an absolutely embarrassing surprise ready to go.

    “I can’t fucking believe I’m doing this,” I mutter to myself as I stare out over the darkened water, the shrub-lined edge of the property still and quiet. The day was hot and dry, but the nighttime temperatures still plunge. Spring usually brings rain to the valley, but this year it’s like we skipped a portion of the season. We went from early spring straight into early summer.

    Soon I hear the crunch of tires on the driveway from the opposite side of the house. Gwen is humming when she hops out of her truck, and it makes me smile. The front door shuts behind her, and she calls out, “I’m home!”

    Next, I hear Clyde yell, “That lovesick fool is waiting for you on the back deck.”

    I shake my head. I thought I saw him peeking out from behind his curtains. Snoopy motherfucker.

    I’m met with the soft, rolling sound of herugh, as though she thinks he’s joking. But she still pads toward the back of the house and steps outside.

    “What are you doing out here, Casanova? Just being lovesick?” she teases before stopping rather abruptly.

    I chuckle, peeking at her over my shoulder. “You know me. Just been waiting all day for you to get home.”

    She scoffs and drops beside me as I reach for the tray covered in tinfoil. I lift it onto myp, watching her curious gaze dance over the foil as it crinkles.

    “What have we got here? Did you spend your day in the kitchen making me a lovesick little pic?”

    Iugh. “Gwen, so help me. If you don’t let that one go, you’re gonna pay for it.”

    Her eyebrows shoot up on her forehead. “Now you’ve got my attention.” She salutes me. “Reporting for duty, sir. Ready to pay for it.”

    I groan. Ever since we started sleeping together, it’s been like this. Fun and light and so fucking addictive. I look her over, knowing that she’s exactly what I’ve needed. I’ve been living with a dark shadow covering everything around me, and alonges Gwen, peeling it away, letting all that light in.

    With her, the world looks so different.

    So much better. For the first time in years, I feel excited about the future. With her, anything is possible.

    But then Tripp’s name pops up in my mind, and I feel sick all over again. Sick because I know I can’t truly move forward withouting clean to him.

    I push my anxiety aside, focusing instead on the present. Her. Tonight.

    “You can pay for itter. Right now, we’re feeding roons.” Her eyes widen as I peel the foil back and reveal a tray covered in small bowls filled with different roon snacks. And yes, I spent the day researching on the inte to find out what they like to eat.

    “Is this… is this…” She leans closer, her fingers hovering just above the variety of foodid out. “Is this a roon charcuterie?”

    I chuckle. “It’s whatever you want to call it, Gwen. But I picked out an array of options to see if we can get your roon friend back.”

    Her bright eyes sh up to mine, glowing that pale purple color in the dark blue of the night. “You didn’t have to do that,” she says.

    “No, but I wanted to.”

    A soft smile touches her lips. She doesn’t respond to that. I know I’ve said it a couple times, but it’s true. With her, nothing seems like that big of an ask. It turns out that when I care about someone—when I love someone—I’m willing to do anything for them.

    Join a stupid bowling team that I never really wanted to.

    Give them a kidney.

    y Disney Princess with some shitty roon.

    All just to make them happy. With Gwen, it’s especially easy.

    “So what have we got here? Can you exin the menu for me?” she asks with a wink.

    “Okay, so over here we’ve got some watermelon. I read they really like that. And then I did some cheese. A little bacon.”

    She stops me. “You cooked them bacon?”

    “I mean, yeah, the inte said they like that. I figured we could try them all.” Feeling slightly bashful, I carry on as she looks at me with wonder. “There’s canned tuna. Doritos. Marshmallows—apparently they love those, but I feel like it’s probably not good for them.” I point to thest bowl. “And finally, we have cat food.”

    Her brows furrow. “Cat food? You went and bought cat food?”

    I scoff and wave her off. “No. I asked Rhys if I could borrow some of his cat food. They have a cat, you know.”

    Sheughs, but it’s more of a giggle, airy and disbelieving. “Is it weird if I tell you that this is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me?”

    I eye her carefully. It bugs me that no one has ever done something this simple for her. And I don’t need a bunch of des for it, so I deflect. “Yes. Because roons are the official animal of romance. Nothing says I’m into you like sharing rabies over a bowl of Doritos.”

    Her elbow juts into my side. “Watch it, Rousseau. You’ll be the one paying for itter.”

    And with that, she takes a handful of cat food from the bowl and tosses it across thewn.

    I try to stifle my groan.

    “What?” she says, sliding her gaze to me with mock offense. “You’re the one who set this up. Now you’re gonna make that little bitchy grumble about it?”

    “I’m not being bitchy,” I reply. “I just… Do you know how meticulously I tend to this grass? The roons are going toe around and they’ll dig, and they’re going to—you know what? Never mind. It doesn’t matter. If mywn is fucked up but you’re happy, then it was worth it.”

    She throws her head back andughs. But as she does, a rustlinges from the bushes, and Gwen ps a hand over her own mouth to stop herself. Momentster, a small, masked bandit—who may or may not be carrying rabies—pokes its head from the bushes. Gwen lets out an excited squeal.

    “Oh my god, he’s back!” she says, eyes lighting like a cartoon character with that diamond twinkle in the corner.

    Yeah. Googling roon foods and texting one of my friends to borrow a cup of cat food was all worth it to see her like this.

    The roon’s beady eyesnd on us suspiciously, but its pointy nose wiggles in the direction of where she threw the cat food. Tentatively, it moves across the yard, picking up a single piece of kibble.

    Gwen doesn’t rush it by reaching for more food. Instead, a happy smile spreads across her face as she watches the roon make his way from one piece to another, his pointy, evil teeth working maniacally at crunching each chunk.

    “How was your day?” Gwen whispers softly.

    The roon freezes, eyes shifting toward us.

    “Pretty good,” I whisper back, not wanting to ruin the moment for her by talking too much. But she makes a rolling motion with her hand, urging me onward. “I went to a yoga ss.”

    “Yeah?”

    “Yeah. My instructor is extremely fuckable. I couldn’t stop staring at her ass the whole time.”

    Gwen bites down on a satisfied smile. “I love this for you. How incredibly motivating.”

    We share a heated look that has me grinning and hardening in my jeans.

    “What else did you do?” she continues, watching the roon move forward ever so slightly.

    “Talked to the therapist I’ve been chatting with. They gave me clearance to work again. Might start slow, though. I don’t need to overdo it.”

    She nods. “I bet your yoga teacher thinks it’s superhot that you’re taking such good care of your mental health.”

    I chuckle. “What about you? How was your day?”

    She lifts another handful of cat food and tosses it onto the grass, just a little closer to the deck. The roon startles, then tiptoes forward cautiously.

    “Oh, me?” Gwen asks. “My day was great. I kind of want to fuck one of my students though, and that’s a first.”

    I yfully eye her with suspicion. “Is it?”

    It’s just part of the friendly banter—I didn’t mean for it to be about Tripp, but as soon as the sentiment leaves my mouth, that thread of unease stretches between us. He keeps popping up even though I don’t want him to. He’s ever-present—unresolved.

    “I didn’t mean—”

    She waves me off. “I know, but let me rephrase that. I want to do more than just fuck one of my students, and that is a first.”

    A deep feeling of satisfaction settles into my bones. She’s told me before that she’s done nothing but keep things casual, that rtionships aren’t something she’s gone looking for. Hell, I could see it the other day—the way she sat on the couch like I was some experiment she had to figure out in real time.

    For Gwen, doing the most mundane things might feel more monumental than they should. But those domestic moments… those are what I crave.

    The same ones that Gwen hasn’t had at all.

    I’d be lying if I said there haven’t been times when the thought of her with Tripp hasn’t kept me up, driven me to distraction, and made me jealous. And yet, it strikes me now that she’s giving me something far more precious than what she had with him.

    With contentment glowing in her eyes, she reaches for a marshmallow and tosses it across the grass. The roon backs up a couple of steps, and I watch as it rubs its grubby little palms together like it’s just found something exceptional. It scampers forward, snatches the marshmallow, then sits down on its haunches, rotating the puff of sugar while munching away like you would corn on the cob.

    “Oh my god.” She sighs. “Is that not the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?”

    I stare at the oversize rodent. I won’t lie. I’ve spent time and energy keeping roons off my property by cing my garbage in a shed and generally scaring them off. But sitting here now, watching this roon devour a marshmallow, I have to confess, “Yeah, Gwen, it’s pretty damn cute.”

    She hums happily. Like she’s relieved that I don’t hate her new friend. “Should we name him?”

    “You say that like it’s a child,” I quip.

    “Yeah, except I wouldn’t name a child Marshmallow.”

    “Marshmallow?” I ask. “You’re naming him Marshmallow?”

    She shrugs. “Yeah, why not?”

    I watch the roon. “I mean, it’s just not very dignified. Do you think he’s going to run back into the bushes and tell all his friends that the hot blonddy who lives here named him Marshmallow?”

    She shakes her head. “You might be overthinking this.”

    “Gwen, how am I supposed to trust you to name our first child if you can’t even give this roon a respectable name?”

    We both freeze then. God, there’s so much unsaid between us, so much implied. I really have to stop stepping in it like this, making things awkward.

    But, of course, nothing with Gwen is ever truly awkward.

    “Do you remember,” she starts, “that night in the airport? How badly I put my foot in my mouth when I went on about us having a night to tell our kids about one day?”

    I chuckle softly. “How could I forget?”

    She nods, teeth strumming over her bottom lip. “Now we’re even.”

    A lowugh rumbles in my chest as I pull her close and drop a kiss against her hair. I breathe her in. She smells likevender and coconut. No doubt some oil blend she’s using at the studio. “Yeah, Gwen, now we’re even.”

    We spend the next several minutes figuring out what to name the roon while tossing him different foods from the tasting menu I created. We settle on the name Sly because she thinks it suits his mischievous nature and I think it sounds kind of badass.

    Because if I’m about to be a roon dad, you’d better believe it’s going to be the coolest roon that anybody’s ever known.

    Out of all the offerings, we find Sly seems most enthusiastic about the watermelon. Hees close enough to reach his grubby little paws forward and take it from Gwen’s hands. Her ensuing excitement scares the shit out of him, but hees back for seconds, so clearly he isn’t too traumatized.

    Gwen is over the moon.

    Watching her tonight makes my heart swell like the Grinch’s on Christmas Day. It also erases any lingering guilt I felt about that night I snapped at her.

    I may not be good with verbal apologies, but I will go out of my way to make up for mistakes. And it feels like I achieved that tonight.

    When Sly ambles off, looking satisfied and ready for a nap, I offer to clean up while she showers. I find myself grinning at absolutely nothing—like the lovesick fool Clyde used me of being—while standing at the sink, scrubbing each bowl. And by the time I finish putting them back in the cupboards, that grin hasn’t faded.

    I almost have to pinch myself as I head up the stairs to my bedroom—our bedroom. It feels surreal.

    And it’s made all the more surreal when I step inside our room and find the balcony door open. I can see Gwen. Buck naked, wet hair slicked down her back, bent over the railing.

    Waiting for me.