I nod in agreement. “I mean, it’s pretty perfect.”

“It is.” I follow Z as he casually backs up toward the walk-in closet. “And it has a great closet.”

And, we’re in the closet.

He smolders at me.

I cock a brow. “We’re not going to get this place if they catch us in here.”

He tilts his head. “What are you, the closet police?”

I poke his chest and he grabs my hand, pressing it to his heart.

“I am a bad influence on you,” I chide.

His lopsided grin kicks up. “We’ve made it this far. I really think the universe is on our side.”

We have made it pretty far. I’ve thrown my fair share of shit at our relationship, and we’re still here. Together. And thrilled about it.

I push the door closed.

We gaze at each other for a beat before I grab his perfect chin and crush his lips with mine.

We’ve had a number of spontaneous sexual escapades over the past two years. They’re always my favorite. Every time we’re together, I feel like a human supernova.

We’re chaotically de-clothing as he breaks away. “Marry me, canoe thief?”

“Are you shitting me?” I yank off his belt. “This again?”

I hold tight to the bar hanging along the border of the little room, catching my breath as he peels off my fitted flare overalls.

“I’m not shitting you, James,” Zarar breathes as he works his way from the floor back up to my face.

I grin as he meets my eyes. “Damnit, Z, no. We’re moving in together. Give it a second.”

This is his second proposal. The first was on our one-year anniversary.

He laughs as I pull him against me. “Why am I not surprised?” he murmurs against my lips.

“I fucking love you,” I whisper into his face.

We’re so pleased with ourselves when we slip out five minutes later without reprimand. Z pulls out his iPhone and FaceTimes Siri as we leave the place with an application.

“What’s the verdict?” she says as soon as she picks up the phone. She’s in Dawn’s kitchen. Those two are smitten, and they haven’t even started dating yet.

Z laughs. “She said no. You owe me fifty bucks!”

I gawk at him as he points the phone in my direction.

“Excrement! Jamie!” Siri complains.

I loose a disbelieving huff. “Excuse me, gluteus maximus trench, you bet on yes?”

I have plans to propose myself, when I’m good and ready.

A girl has to draw this out so our love story is epic enough for Future Zarar to woo his damn grandkids.

JAMIE

DR. DONYA WENDELL

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