Hooking my finger around the silky strap of Parker’s pajama top, I slide it back into place, smiling as it falls again. Her deep breathing lets me know she’s still asleep, so I drop my lips to her soft skin, lingering to appreciate the sweetness radiating from it.

My phone vibrates on the nightstand continuously, but I make no move to answer the call. For one, I know it’s Coach calling, even though I emailed all staff explaining I was stuck in DC and will miss a voluntary meeting ahead of a holiday. And two, nothing could drag me away from the happiness I feel waking next to Parker, watching the early day’s light come through the break of the curtain.

The light paints pictures on her skin, kind of like the shadow puppets we used to make as kids against the wood planks inside the clubhouse. But this time, I don’t see an elephant or a duck. I see bits and pieces of us filling the constellations connected by the freckles and beauty marks on Parker’s back.

And when she stirs, rolling onto her stomach, I see the top of the scar. I don’t look at it for more than two seconds—more than I can take—before my eyes are called to the portable lock sandwiched into the door. I try to ignore how my skin grows tight and prickly and scoot closer, lying part of my body gently on top of her.

Parker lets out a soft sigh and snuggles into me, her foot rubbing against my calf.

“You’re here,” she mumbles, finally turning her head.

I lean back so I can see her face. “I’m here.”

Parker rubs the sleep from her eyes while I hold my breath, wondering if we’ll backtrack to yesterday and further even though we’ve started a new day.

But even after last night, it’s this moment—when she reaches out and cups my cheek of her own volition—that I’ll never forget. I drop a kiss into her palm, hiding in it. The ring on her finger presses against me. I kiss that too.

“Fitz…”

“I did have a crush on you when we were younger,” I confess, wondering if she can feel the race of my pulse drumming against her wrist angled against my neck. “But now, it would be insulting to call it that.”

Reducing my feelings to a crush at any point seems inappropriate, but what the hell am I supposed to say after last night? After, in a moment of panic, I stopped Parker from removing my underwear and exposing what I’ve been hiding for what feels like the entirety of my life, what can I possibly say?

Somehow I’ve been in love with you forever and I’m terrified now that you know you’ll run away seems like, well, a pathway to destruction of whatever I have in this moment.