I step back and stare at him. He looks tousled and cozy and soft and so fucking mine I can’t even breathe. “I might do you right on this kitchen counter.”

“Hush now. Don’t take the wind out of my sails.” He scoops me up, making me squeak in surprise as he wraps my legs around his waist and walks us toward his room.

“Where are we going?” I ask, stealing a quick kiss.

He kisses me back. “Originally, I’d planned to whisk you away somewhere special, but we talked on the cab ride home last night—well, this morning—about how long of a day it had been, how good it would feel to just—”

“Stay in,” I whisper, slipping my hands through his gorgeous hair, kissing his jaw. “And wear sweatpants that make your ass look spectacular.”

Jamie somehow turns an even deeper tomato red at that compliment, but that’s all the acknowledgment I get. “So I thought, rather than go somewhere special, why not bring ‘somewhere special’ to us?”

I peer over my shoulder as he opens the door, and my heart beats so hard it bruises my ribs. Staring in disbelief, I slide down his body, then turn and take in his bedroom. A picnic feast of dumplings and pho sits in the middle of the floor, with plush blankets and cushions arranged on the ground for comfortable seating. The fancy modern fireplace dances with silent, flickering flames, and a few lanterns glow throughout his room with tiny tea lights. The light is faint, but as I glance up, I know why. Projected onto his ceiling is every constellation you can see right now in the Northern Hemisphere. When it’s darker, they’ll be as bright as the stars outside.

“It’s so romantic,” I whisper.

Standing behind me, Jamie wraps his arms around my waist and sets his chin on my head. “I’m glad you think so. I wanted it to feel special, but not too much. Candlelight and a fire, but—not that you wanted them—no rose petals. I’ll sneeze. And no body chocolate—”

“Too sticky.”

I feel his smile as he hugs me harder. “Precisely. Hope that’s not a disappointment.”

I laugh through the lump in my throat. “Nothing about this could disappoint me, Jamie. It’s perfect.” Blinking away tears, I turn and face him. “You’re perfect.”

· THIRTY-TWO ·

Jamie

I watch her eat, humming happily, licking her fingers. And when we’re done, I unceremoniously dump our containers in the kitchen sink, then come back and tuck Bea close between my legs as I lean against the foot of my bed, her back to my front.

“Thank God for sweatpants,” she sighs, rubbing her full stomach as she stares up at the constellations projected on the ceiling. “I ate all the dumplings.”