It took us less than a month.

Well, shit.

I’m still on my knee when Jesse cups her mouth. Mrs. B’s kids let us stay in their house while they are looking for buyers. When a house costs twenty million dollars, finding a buyer is not that easy. So we house-sit for Juliette and hop onto a plane every now and again to visit her. Sometimes we invite friends over for dinner. Edie and Trent were here the other day with Luna and the baby, Theo. I love this house, but man, I can’t wait to move into the yacht we purchased a few weeks ago. It’s being painted right now, and that shit is huge.

“That’s the part where you answer,” I groan.

“Yeah. I mean, yes. Yes, yes, yes!” she yelps, and I slide the ring onto her finger. It’s the wrong finger, so she tells me to do it right, and I roll my eyes and tell her I’m new to this love bullshit. She tells me I still do it very well, and we’re happy.

So fucking happy.

And Pushkin is pissing on my boots.

And the sun is shining.

And I kiss her hard, my lips smashing into hers.

“I think we need matching ass tattoos,” I say.

“Why? Do you have another cool story?” She grins into our kiss.

I pick her up by the ass and wrap her legs around my waist. “Yeah.” I bite her lower lip and tug. Hard. “You.”