I’m in the kitchen spooning our soup into bowls when Drake strolls in and plops himself down into a chair at the table.

Placing our bowls on the table, I slide into the chair next to him. “So, about this surprise.”

“Nope,” he drawls, popping the P. “Not gonna tell you. So, hush up and eat.” I purse my lips and glare at him, but he just laughs. “You keep sticking that lip out at me, and I’m gonna bite it.”

“You say that like it’s a threat,” I smart back to him, hoping he’ll take the bait. Because why wouldn’t I want his lips on mine?

“Not happenin’, Bit. Eat up.”

Ugh. “Fine.” We lapse into a comfortable silence, the kind that speaks to two people so familiar with each other that words aren’t always needed. The kind that’s a prelude to what’s to come.

Once we’re both full and happy, I clear away our bowls while Drake goes to set up my surprise. The fact that it needs setting up really piques my interest, and I’m half-tempted to peek, but I know that will upset him. Lord knows, I’ve done enough of that, and I’m not looking to do any more.

With nothing to do but wait, I reclaim my seat at the table and tap out a message to Myla Rose, checking on how things are going at home. She replies instantly, filling me in on everyone. And I do mean everyone.

She brags on Brody, telling me how he’s able to lift his head and hold it up during tummy time and that he smiles a big gummy smile at the sound of her voice.

She tells me that Cash scored a new carpentry contract with a bed and breakfast in town that wants to order a new desk for the check-in area.

She tells me that Seraphine’s been busy spending time with her dad as his health continues declining. This bit of news hurts my heart, seeing as how her dad is all she really has, other than Magnolia.

She also tells me that Simon offered to give Magnolia driving lessons, but she’s yet to take him up on them. This tidbit may be the most interesting of all.

I text her back, thanking her for the update, and let her know that things are going well here and that we should be home sometime tomorrow.

Just as I set my phone down onto the table, Drake calls my name from somewhere in the house. I head in the general direction and find him hovering just outside the back door with a thick plaid blanket in his arms. “C’mon out here. I got a fire goin’, and this”—he nods to the blanket—“will keep us warm.”

I follow him out onto the deck, and he leads me over to the small fire pit. “I thought we could make s’mores.” He sounds unsure of himself, and it pinches at my heart.

Wordlessly, I take the blanket from him and lower myself down onto the cushion on the boards. I drape the blanket over myself and gesture for him to join me. “You’re right. I love it.”

He glances upward and mouths out what looks like “Thank God” before settling himself down next to me.

After we’ve gorged on more s’mores than any human should eat, we lie back and look at the stars. The view is truly amazing without the lights of the city dulling the shine of the night sky. We spend an hour or two pointing out what we think are constellations, but mostly, I think we’re just making up our own, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Being here with him is magical, a second chance I’m not sure I fully deserve, but one I’m certainly not going to waste.

“So, what’s next?” I ask Drake once we’re back inside, cozied up on the couch together.

“We can either go into town and watch the fireworks, or we can stay home and watch them from here.”

For me, it’s a no-brainer. Here, he’s all mine. I don’t have to share him. “Here. Let’s stay here.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” We kill time talking about everything and nothing all at once. And when we tire of talking with words, we let our bodies speak for us.

“Do you think it’ll always be like this?” I ask him, kissing my way across his throat.

“With you? Always.” He winds my hair in his fist and tugs my face up to his before bringing his lips down on mine.

We spend what feels like hours relearning every part of one another, shedding our clothes along the way until we’re skin-to-skin.

“It’s almost midnight,” Drake rasps against my skin.

“So, it is,” I whisper, straddling his thighs with mine. I hover above him, our bodies lined up in all the right ways. “I’ve missed this—us,” I tell him as I kiss my way up his chest.

“Me too, Bit. So damn much.” He trails the tips of his rough fingers up and down the column of my spine, his touch featherlight.

“I get it now—you know that, right? Being like this with you has always been amazing, but it’s not everything. It’s an added benefit that comes along with owning your heart.”

Slowly, he drags his fingers from my back to the edge of my breasts, torturing me. Teasing me. “That’s right. It’s eleven fifty-nine,” he tells me, his voice low and rough in my ear.

Laying my lips against his cheek, I begin counting down. “Five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . .”

Together, we whisper, “One,” and as the fireworks explode over the lake, I sink down onto him, reveling in the way we fit together like two pieces of a puzzle.

“Oh, God,” I moan as he grips my ass while I move my hips in tight circles. “So good. I . . .” I pause, realizing the weight of this moment. While I’ve told him I loved him, I’ve never said it with him moving inside me. “I love you, Drake.”

He lets out an almost primal growl, flipping us so that he’s in control. “Say it again,” he demands, driving into me.

“I love you.” I pant the words, barely able to think past the pleasure he’s bringing me.

“That’s right. Only me. Now and forever.”

“Only you,” I promise him. “Always—” My words fall away as I fall apart beneath him, and I swear, as he follows behind me, I hear him murmur, “Happy New Year, Little Bit.”