This is it. This is the happiest I’ve ever been. If this is the happiest I’ll ever get to be, then I’ll die a satisfied woman.

There is a magic to being in a relationship with this man. From the way he draws pleasure from my body to the way he embraces who I am, I have never felt so seen.

He doesn’t want to change me. He doesn’t want to use me.

He lifts me up. He lets me be.

There is beauty in being seen; in knowing that this man knows the shape of my soul, and that even if given a chance, he wouldn’t change a damn thing.

I’ll never forget this moment.

I’ll never forget this trip.

I’ll never forget this summer or what it was like to be adored by Dempsey Haas.

37. Dempsey

Chapter 37

Dempsey

I wake up after the most restful night of sleep with her by my side. We spend almost all our nights together nowadays, but there’s something about being in the city with her that just feels different. She’s asleep on her stomach, her head turned toward me, her pouty pink lips parted and her thick eyelashes fluttering while she dreams.

She’s an angel.

A gift I never expected.

This bright, effervescent force that came barreling into my life at the most inopportune time.

Nothing about us makes sense. And yet—we’ve made this work.

Watching her wistfully as she sleeps, I brush a strand of blond hair from her face. I caress another tendril resting on her bare back.

I look out at the perfect view as the sun starts to rise and shine its reflection on the Manhattan skyline.

My attention drifts back to her gorgeous sleeping form. Is this what it would be like? If this was an option, is this how it would feel?

For one single minute, I let myself envision that this could be my life.

We’d live in a big city: New York or Los Angeles, Chicago or San Francisco. I’d wake up early, like I always do, and get in a workout in our home gym. I’d shower, then prep the coffee. She’d never need to set an alarm clock—I’d wake her up eating her pussy each and every morning, then I’d bring her breakfast in bed.

We’d get ready together, dancing around each other in our penthouse suite or restored loft with an epic view. I’d head into the office; she’d go down to the courthouse. She’d look so fucking hot dressed up for court. She’d smoke all their asses, I’m sure, then we’d meet up in the city for lunch. And maybe a quickie.