The doorbell rings.

I only barely manage to hold onto my mug of coffee. This day has been great so far. Hell, it's the best Thanksgiving I can remember. There's no place to go but down.

Ophelia nods to the door. "I'll get that. Stay put, sweetheart."

She pushes herself off the couch. It's across from the one I'm sharing with Pete. There's a coffee table between them. Between the trays of snacks and the mugs of coffee, there's barely a free inch of the table.

From their spot on the couch opposite ours, Tom and Willow try to act as if they're not staring at me.

I must look as anxious as I feel.

"Breathe, baby." Pete leans in close and rubs my shoulder. "You can do this."

I nod. Of course I can do this. It's not like it's a huge deal, our families sharing a holiday together. And not any holiday—the one about gratitude and sitting around a table with nowhere to hide.

"Your dad looked great when we saw him," Pete says. "Remember?"

"He did." Some of the tension in my shoulders eases. Dad looked great when we visited. But that was halfway through rehab. Now he's out, on his own, taking care of himself.

"You're worried about him?" Pete asks.

I lean in to whisper in his ear. "What if he's already slipped?"

"You really think that happened?"

"No, but…"

His deep brown eyes find mine. The certainty in them soothes me.

Pete pulls me into a tight hug. "You're gonna be okay, baby. I promise."

The front door opens. It's too far to hear exact words, but that's Madison's voice. She's greeting Ophelia. And there's Dad.

I push myself to my feet. I can do this.

Pete motions to Tom and Willow. The three of them stand at once. Then Madison is bouncing into the room. Her short hair hangs in front of her eyes.

"Jessie. Your dress is gorgeous." She throws her arms around me. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too." I pull back and hug my dad. "How have things been?"

"Difficult, but good." He smiles.

He looks good. I can't believe how quickly the time has passed. It feels like just yesterday I was getting on a plane to get as far away from home as possible. And now I'm here, at Ophelia's place in Orange County, surrounded by my family, new and old.

Home is still in flux—the label is kicking us out of the Hollywood place—but I trust Pete when he says he's got it under control. The man really gets shit done.

Ophelia motions for everyone to sit. Madison and Dad introduce themselves. He asks them to call him Mark instead of Mr. James.

It's going well.

It's going to be okay.

"Can I help with dinner?" Madison offers.

"No. We're ordering delivery. No one in the family cooks." She motions to the kitchen. "Would you like some coffee?"

"No thank you." Madison turns to Dad. "You?"

"Yes, please. Thank you." He settles into the armchair with a half-awkward, half-welcoming expression.

"Anyone else?" Ophelia offers.

I hold up my cup. She takes it with a smile then she's in the kitchen, refilling our beverages.

Tom shouts to his mother. "Willow cooks." He points to Willow's wedding ring. "You saying she isn't family?"

Ophelia returns to the room. She shakes her head at Tom. "Don't be ridiculous, Tom. You know Willow is as welcome as you are." She hands Dad his cup. "Cream and sugar are on the table. Almond milk in the fridge if you'd like that."

"Jess cooks," Pete offers.

"She's family," Willow says. "Even if it's not legal… not yet… I'm sure soon they'll be… soon… Nevermind."

Tom laughs. "Kid, you might as well spell it out and say, you're sure they'll get married soon."

"Leave your wife alone. It's bad enough she has to live with you," Ophelia teases.

Tom presses his forehead against Willows. "You're my wife."

She drags her fingers over his wedding band. "You're my husband."

They kiss. Thankfully, it's more sweet than steamy.

Ophelia clears her throat and turns to Madison and Dad. "How was your flight?"

"Good. Long." Madison smiles. "So, who is going to fill me in on all the gossip about my sister?"

Tom lights up. He and Pete share a look.

Pete nods then he turns to Madison. "What exactly do you want to know?"

* * *

The afternoon is perfect. Dinner is perfect. It's an incredibly untraditional spread of Indian food. It's all vegetarian, so Willow won't feel left out.

It's sweet how much Ophelia cares about us feeling accepted. She's warm, welcoming, and take no shit at once. Come evening, she practically kicks us out of the house. I hug Dad and Madison goodbye. They're staying at a nearby hotel. We have plans to show them around Los Angeles tomorrow.

But, tonight is ours.

After we say our goodbyes, Pete slides his arm around my waist. He practically drags me outside.

The dark sky is dotted with stars. The moon is a thin sliver of silver. We're in the suburbs, surrounded by the light of houses and shopping centers, but I can see so much more details of the stars than I can in Hollywood.

"You secretly miss the suburbs, baby?" he asks.

"No." I pull him closer, soaking in the warmth of his body. It's cold out here. "I miss the stars."

"Let's go look at them."

"We caught a ride here with Tom and Willow." I stare into his eyes, trying to figure out what the spark of mischief in them means. "Explain yourself."

"You trust me?"

"You know I do."

"Then follow me."

I nod an okay and follow him around the corner. The next block is a cul-de-sac lined with perfectly symmetrical two-story, four-bedroom houses.

It doesn't seem like the kind of place that suits Ophelia, but her home is as warm, inviting, and bad ass as she is.

Pete pulls something from the front pocket of his jeans. Keys. He taps them and a car's beep echoes through the air.

Where did that come from?

I stare at my boyfriend.

He smiles back at me then he motions to a car parked on street, some fifteen feet in font of us. Its lights flash as its electric lock disengages.

Pete hands me the keys. "It's yours."

"What?"

He leads me to the car. It's the same as his. A Tesla. A very expensive luxury electric car.

Only it's silver.

"When I asked you what you wanted, you said you wanted a silver Tesla." His eyes fill with affection. "Now you have it."

"But it's so expensive."

"You said you wanted it, so I got it for you."

My heart melts. I slide my arms around his waist. His cotton hoodie is soft and thick but I can still feel the warmth of his body under it.

"Your dad is sober too." He presses his palm between my shoulder blades, pulling me closer.

"And you love me."

"Only two things left. The house on the beach and the cup of coffee."

My tongue is in knots. This is too perfect for words. I murmur something that vaguely resembles a yes.

"Guessing you don't want a giant cup of coffee right now," he says.

"No."

"I'll buy you one first thing tomorrow." He squeezes me tighter. "And you wanted law school to be easier. Can't do much about that. Well… I'm trying something."

"You're being mysterious."

"Yeah." He steps back and leads me to the driver's side door. "Let's take her for a spin. I'll show you a great make-out spot."

I press the keys between my palms. "Okay, but my car is a boy."

He chuckles as we get in the car. "What's his name?"

"Hmmm. Steele."

"Baby, that's a little myopic."

"But you're the only person I want to sit on."

He shakes his head. "You're lucky you look as hot as you do in your glasses, because that was terrible."

I push the bridge of my glasses up my nose. "Okay. How about Peeta?"

"Peeta is perfect."

I secure my seat belt and turn the car on. The electric engine barely whispers. It's quiet. And it's mine.

Damn, it's like the car handles better being mine. I pull onto the street and follow Pete's directions. Traffic is light. The streets are wide. It feels like I zoom through every green light.

Twenty minutes later, we're turning on a quiet, curvy street. It takes us to the top of a hill. The twinkling lights of the suburbs surround us. And past those, there's the dark blue of the ocean.

It's beautiful. And empty.

The perfect make-out spot.

I turn off the engine and undo my seatbelt.

Pete turns to me. "Should we christen Peeta or is he shy?"

A laugh escapes my lips. "No. He's into it. He digs threesomes."

Pete chuckles. He pats his lap.

I don't need to be asked twice. I climb over the center console. My knees plant outside his thighs. It already feels so good, the weight of my body sinking into his.

He looks up at me. His fingers trail over my jaw and my cheek. He takes off my glasses, folds them, and places them in the center console. "Let me see it again."

My lips curl into a smile. Okay, time to tease him back. "You want me topless, ask."

"You're wearing a dress."

"Technicalities." I pull the zipper to my waist and pull the dress over my head. It's difficult positioning myself so Pete can see the tattoo on my shoulder blade. It's my half of our couples tattoo—an arrow with the words real or not real in the center.

He traces its lines again and again. "How did I get so lucky, you falling in love with me?"

I turn so we're face to face. "I'm the lucky one." I lean in to kiss him.

Affection flows from his lips to mine and back again. It's still overwhelming, how lucky I am, how amazing this relationship is, how much he loves me.

I don't have a hint of patience today. I've been busy with school. He's been busy with work on the new album. We're both adamant about putting nose to the grindstone Monday through Friday then spending our weekends together.

It's Thursday. I haven't touched him properly since Sunday. Even after months together, four days without touching feels like an eternity.

I unhook my bra and let it fall aside. The starlight flows in through the windows. We're as good as alone here. It's safe to do this, to do whatever I want to him.

His hands go to my hips. He pulls my panties to my knees.

I'm not waiting. I unzip his hoodie and slide it off his shoulders. Then the t-shirt. His jeans prove more difficult. I can't manage to get the button.

He takes my hands and brings them to his shoulders. Then his lips are on mine. His tongue is in my mouth. His kiss is greedy. Mine is too. I run my fingertips over every inch of his skin I can—his shoulders, his chest, his stomach, the back of his neck.

My hands find his hair. I hold his mouth against mine, kissing him hard and deep. The intimacy of it takes my breath away. I have to pull back to stare into his eyes.

That look in his eyes—that's love. It pours into my soul. It fills the car.

This space is ours.

The world is ours.

He's mine and I'm his.

Our bodies need to be joined. Now.

"I want you inside me," I breathe.

His eyes cloud with desire. He shifts off his jeans and boxers. In one swift motion, he pulls my body onto his.

I let out a sharp gasp as he plunges deep inside me. His mouth goes to my nipples. His hands go to my hips, guiding me over him.

He knows exactly how to play me, knows my body better than I do. I dig my fingers into his shoulders and surrender to his guidance. The car isn't exactly roomy—I bump my head against the roof a dozen times—but I don't want anything else.

This moment, right now, the two of us together, is perfect.

The motions of his soft, wet mouth send pangs of desire to my core. I get closer. Dig my nails into his skin. My lips part with a sigh.

"Look at me," I breathe. "Watch me come."

He groans as he kisses his way up my chest, neck, lips. After one long, deep kiss, he pulls away.

His eyes fix on mine.

His hand goes to my shoulder blade, right over the lines of my tattoo.

I hold his gaze for as long as I can. His deep brown eyes are as intense as ever. They're wide with desire, affection, love.

Pleasure wells up inside me. I dig my nails into his skin. I let a sigh fall off my lips. Then it's his name.

Still, I keep my eyes glued to his. Damn, I love the way he looks at me like he's never seen anything better.

With the next thrust, I come. I groan his name as pleasure spreads to every inch of my body.

Pete presses his lips against my neck. He kisses his way to my ear. Then he's sucking on my earlobe.

He moves faster, harder. I can tell from the way he's groaning that he's almost there. I can see it in the shaking of his shoulders.

I dig my fingers into his hair and take in every second of his orgasm. The way he groans against my skin, the way his nails dig into my back, the way his muscles tense and relax.

There. He moans my name as he comes.

We collapse into the slightly reclined seat. It's messy and it's cramped, but it's perfect.

Whenever I'm with him, life is perfect.

* * *

I take Pacific Coast Highway back to Los Angeles. For miles and miles, the road curves along the ocean. I roll the windows down and let in the cool evening air. We're going so fast the rushing air leaves no room for conversation.

But that's okay. Pete squeezing my hand is all the communication I need.

I'm about to turn onto the 105—taking it to the 110 to the 101 is the fastest way back to Hollywood—but Pete stops me.

"Stay on Lincoln." He calls the highway by the name of the street it turns into.

"But this isn't where you live."

"Trust me."

My heartbeat picks up. A lightness passes through my chest and stomach. This is a surprise. And it's something good.

I check his expression just to be sure. He's smiling ear to ear. I'm not sure I've ever seen him this happy and free.

He motions to the dash. "Eyes on the road. Don't want to die before we… you'll see."

I nearly squeal. It's hard to maintain an even grip on the steering wheel. Somehow, I manage it. We stay on Lincoln/Pacific Coast Highway though Marina Del Rey. We're just into Venice Beach when Pete tells me to turn onto a side street.

What the hell is he up to? We're near Tom and Willow's place. Half a mile away, less even. Are we going to see them? It's possible. For a while, we take the route that would lead us to their house. Then we're turning south instead of north.

Not their place.

The streets are narrow and they're packed with cars. I give up on figuring out exactly what it is we're doing so I can focus on navigation. After a few turns, we're there.

Pete points to a reserved parking spot next to a black luxury car. No, it's a black Tesla.

It's his black Tesla.

And it's in front of a beautiful two-story house on the beach. It looks a lot like Tom and Willow's pace, only it's more rectangular, more modern. The walls are white, the roof is flat, the blue tinted windows are wide.

There are succulents everywhere. The gated garden is lined with them. And the balcony.

Pete laughs. "Of course you're looking at the cacti."

"I like them." I turn back to him. "That's your car."

He nods.

"So this…"

"It's ours."

It's ours. I practically jump out of the car. "Give me the keys."

He laughs again. "There are more cacti on the rooftop deck."

There's a rooftop deck.

And there's the beach. It's right there. Ten feet away. Less. The backyard is on the sand.

It's the last thing I wanted, a house on the beach. My eyes meet his. He smiles and nods.

He bought me a house on the beach.

I have everything I want.

He locks the car and leads me inside. It's beautiful and clean and furnished with just enough.

"There are three bedrooms. One is ours. One is your office. One is my practice room." He presses his lips to my forehead. "Of course, you're always welcome to listen."

I nod. It's still overwhelming. He bought me a car and a house on the beach. "This place looks expensive."

"Real estate is an investment."

That's true.

"I know what you'll say, Jess. You'll say it's mine. And you're partially right. According to the state of California, this place is mine." He stares into my eyes. "But the second we get married, then the state will recognize it's ours."

Pete's talking about getting married. Am I dead? Is this heaven? It doesn't seem possible for this to be happening.

"That something you want?" he asks.

"If you're proposing you better get down on one knee and pull out a giant rock."

He laughs. "Since when are you showy?"

"Since all my classmates rolled their eyes at how my boyfriend is in a band."

"You ever tell them the band?"

"No."

He runs his fingertips through my hair. Then his lips are on mine. Mmm, he tastes good. All the excitement in my chest pours through my lips to his.

I feel steadier when he's around, like I can do anything.

He pulls back and looks into my eyes. "That's petty, wanting to make your classmates jealous. I expect better from you."

"Please, you'll pick out something at least four carats if I don't guide you."

"Maybe." His smile spreads ear to ear. "Is that what you want?"

I nod. That's everything I want.

Good. He drops to one knee.

No.

He's not…

He looks up at me, an ocean of affection in his eyes.

Oh my God, he is. He's really doing this.

Pete takes my hand. His eyes fix on mine. "I don't ever want to run away from my feelings again. I love you more than anything. I know I want you forever." He pulls a ring box from his pocket and flips it open. "Jess James, will you marry me?"

"Yes. Of course."

He slides the ring onto my finger. It's a round solitaire on a platinum band. It's huge but it's elegant and classic too.

It's perfect.

He smiles. "Now, I have everything I want."