His breath stirs against my lips as he exhales and tightens his hold on me.

And then, just before sleep claims me, he whispers, “Good… because I think I already have.”

Chapter 25

Mile High Club – Kerry

“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay up north this time of year? Decembers are brutal, it’s freezing cold, Kerry Anne.” Mom watches me with a concerned frown as I rummage through her closet, tossing jackets over my arm.

“I’ll be fine, Mama,” I laugh, pulling out an old, well-worn coat that still smells like her. “I just need something warm, comfortable, and broken-in. The best cold-weather clothes are always the ones with history.”

Mom gasps, hands on her hips. “Excuse me? Your man is rich, and you’re up in my closet. Why can’t you get your own clothes to break in?”

From the phone propped up on the dresser, Vic chuckles.

“That’s what I’ve been saying, Mrs. Grace,” his deep voice comes through the video call. “She has all my cards but refuses to use them.”

“Shush, Vic!” I scold, barely holding back my smile. “I already spent enough of your money on that ridiculously expensive award show dress.”

“Seeing you in it is gonna be worth it.”

My mom and I both giggle.

“Y’all are just too cute,” she says, grinning. “What time are the girls coming over?”

“About an hour, maybe sooner. They’re so anxious, asking me what time we’re leaving every five minutes. Apparently, y’all are having a solar system night or something?”

Mom claps her hands, absolutely delighted. “Oh, they are going to love it!”

When I was little, Mom and Dad transformed my room into the Milky Way. Glow-in-the-dark stars and planets covered the ceiling, and we’d map out constellations together, connecting the dots with imaginary lines. We’d make up stories about space travel, pretend to float in zero gravity, and eat popcorn under the glow of the universe. The nostalgia hits me hard as I picture Syd and Ari building their own version of the memory.

“They’re gonna have a blast,” I murmur, touched by how much my parents are putting into this weekend.

And just when I think they couldn’t possibly be doing more, Dad walks in pushing an old-school popcorn cart with a cotton candy machine strapped to the top.

My mouth drops open. “Vic, look at this!” I grab my phone, turning the camera around.

Vic whistles. “Damn, now I wanna stay and have solar system night.”

I giggle, but my heart races because while my parents are planning the most magical weekend for the girls, I’m freaking out about mine.

This will be our first weekend alone together. No cameras. No kids. No distractions. Just me and Vic in New York City.