I’m sitting in the empty soaking tub, still wearing my sparkly dress, my knees curled tight to my chest, when I hear him walk into the penthouse. He doesn’t flip on the lights as he moves room to room, searching for me, nor does he announce himself when he reaches the bathroom. I don’t turn my head to look as he lingers on the threshold; I simply know he’s there, as though my body sings out to his through the darkness.

The bathroom lights are faint — the wall sconces dimmed to their lowest setting, the ambient glow from the urban jungle out our window casting faux moonlight everywhere. His footsteps echo softly on the tile as he crosses to the tub. Without saying a word, he climbs into the empty basin and settles back, directly across from me. It’s so large, we don’t even touch.

Our eyes meet. The pain in his mirrors my own.

“Felicity…” he whispers.

“Don’t.”

His brows lift.

“Whatever you’re going to say…” I suck in a breath. “Just don’t. Not right now. I’m still…” I swallow hard. “I’m still trying to process what I’m feeling, right now.”

“Just tell me one thing.”

I nod, waiting.

He expels a sharp breath. “Do you hate me?”

“No, Ryder.” My stoic mask crumbles as pain shoots through me. My voice cracks on the next words. “I could never hate you.”

He nods, jaw clenched painfully tight.

We’re silent for a long time.

Two fools in an empty bathtub.

We’ve come so far from the kids we used to be, back in Nashville, it’s hard to remember them at all. How young we were. How supremely naive. Facing down our future armed with nothing but love and lyrics.

I look out over the city around us. The rest of the population feels so distant, looking down from these heights. Untouchable. As if the two of us are the only people left on the planet.

Somehow, though, it’s always been that way between us. Like we’re the only ones in the entire world who matter at all. He looks at me, and the rest fades out of focus.

Him and me.

Me and him.

Together in the darkness. Singing in the shadows. Shining brightest in the darkest night. Two constellations bound by something so strong, the only word I can use to describe it is fate.

I glance over and find him already studying me. Every plane of my face, every tiny asymmetrical imperfection. I gaze back, taking in all his infinitesimal details. I know his features so well, after all this time. Almost better than my own. I’ve seen them twisted into every emotion imaginable, from hate to love to fear to self-loathing. I’ve seen his highest highs, born witness to his lowest lows.

I’ve wanted him and needed him. I’ve scorned him and starved for him. I’ve loved him and hated him. And here, in this moment, at the top of the world, in the depths of despair…

He is still the only person I would wish to have by my side.

Love. Hate. Want. Need.

I look at you, and I feel everything.

Seconds or minutes or hours pass as we sit there, not speaking. Just…

Feeling.

Seeing.

Being.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, finally breaking the silence between us.

“I wanted to, Ryder. So many times.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“At first, because I didn’t think it would matter. We were fighting. I was leaving. Why would I share that with you? Why would I dredge up something so painful, force that weight onto your shoulders, when it was long-buried?”

“And after we got together?”

“I…” My voice is a hollow shell. “I was scared.”

“Of me?”

“No!” A tear slips from beneath my lashes. “Of losing you. It took us so long to get together, so long to finally take the risk, let go of the past, and start again… Can’t you understand how scared I was to drag us back there? To relive all that pain?”

His jaw ticks rhythmically as he fights to control his temper. “I still had a right to know. I had a right to know about—” His voice breaks, and it breaks me in turn. “About our son.”

My tears flow faster. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Did you know?”

My brows lift. “Wh-what?”

“Did you know, when you left me…” His knuckles are white as the porcelain tub. “Did you know you were pregnant?”

“No,” I whisper softly. “I didn’t know until about a month after. And, by that point, you…”

He runs a hand through his hair. “I was a fucking mess.”

I give a tiny nod of affirmation.

His eyes find mine again. “Just so we’re clear — nothing you say could make me walk away from you. You won’t lose me, Felicity. Never.”

I barely trust myself to speak. My composure is rapidly fraying as the tears pour out, faster and faster. I want to hurl myself across the distance, into his arms. I want to close this space separating us, until there’s nothing left but his skin on mine, his heart beating in time with my own.

“Ryder…”

“I’m sorry, too,” he murmurs. “For confronting you about it on stage. There’s no excuse, but you have to know, if I ever thought you’d actually sing it—”

“I know,” I assure him. “I sang it because… it was time. Time to let go of the past. Time to illuminate things long-hidden. Time to honor our son.”

His eyes are red. “Was he— How did—”

“About six months in.” My head shakes. “The doctors said it was nothing I did, nothing that could’ve been prevented. I just…” My throat clogs. “I lost him, Ryder. I lost him.”

I don’t see him move, but suddenly he’s there — his arms closing around me, pulling my face into the hollow of his neck. His mouth comes down to rest against my hair, breathing me in with ragged gulps. The dampness against my temple tells me I am not the only one in tears. And, two years late, we hold each other close, finally mourning together for the small life we created.

Eventually, when the grief has receded from a tidal flood to a manageable undercurrent, I turn my head up to meet his eyes. His forehead comes down to rest against mine. We’re both breathing hard. I feel his every pant against my lips.

“When Carly said you were gone…” His throat bobs. “I thought she meant you’d left me again. That you’d run. I thought… I thought I’d lost you.”

I lift my hands to his face, cradling it gently. “You’ll never lose me, Ryder. I told you… No more running. No more hiding. I’m yours. Come what may. Even when we fight. Even when you hurt me. Even when I hurt you.” I lean a few inches closer, until our lips brush in the faintest ghost of a kiss. “I’m yours and you’re mine.”

“Fuck the rest,” he mutters as he claims my mouth.

It’s meant to be chaste. A light, comforting kiss to soothe each other, after the emotional storm we’ve just weathered. But as soon as his lips hit mine, there’s no turning back. We kiss greedily, desperately. Our hands grasp blindly for zippers and buttons in the dark, stripping each other bare until all that remains is flushed skin against the cool porcelain.

My fingers trace my name over his heart as I stare up at him, marveling at the look of pure devotion in his eyes as they move across my naked skin. I breathe his name like a prayer as he slides inside me, slow enough to drive me wild, hard enough that I feel every unremitting inch of him. My legs slide around his waist, meeting his thrusts as he makes love to me like we’re the only two people in the world.

The star charts are wrong, I think, as my limbs begin to shimmer into moonbeams. We’re not constellations stuck in separate skies.

We’re the whole damn galaxy.