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She laughed. "Deal. Three more parties maximum per year."

"Including the Jasper Creek Harvest Festival?"

"That doesn't count. That's home."

Home. The word settled between us, comfortable and right.

"How's it feel?" I asked. "Getting everything you worked for?"

She was quiet for a moment, her fingers playing with her wedding ring—the engagement ring I'd given her plus a simple platinum band we'd added six months ago in a ceremony at Jase and Bonnie's house. Small. Family. Perfect.

"Honestly?" She turned in my arms to face me. "It feels good. Really good. But it's not everything."

"Kit—"

"I mean it." She touched my face. "This Oscar? It's incredible. It's validation and recognition and everything I thought I wanted. But you know what the best part of tonight was?"

"What?"

"Looking out into the audience and seeing you there. Knowing that when this is all over, we get to go back to that house in Jasper Creek. Have Sunday brunch with your entire chaotic family. That's everything, Code. This—" she gestured to the party, the Oscar she'd set down on a nearby table "—this is just the cherry on top."

I kissed her, slow and deep, not giving a damn if photographers saw or if we ended up in tomorrow's tabloids. Let them. Let the whole world know I was married to Oscar-winner Katherine Lord and that I was the luckiest bastard alive.

"Take me home," she whispered against my lips.

"It's only eleven. We promised Simon and Roan⁠—"

"Take me home to the hotel. We'll come back if you want,” she teased, knowing it was the last thing I wanted. “But right now, I need to be alone with my husband."

I didn't need to be told twice.

We collected her coat, made hurried excuses to Angelica and Bruno, and escaped while most of the party was distracted by some celebrity drama unfolding near the champagne fountain.

In the limo—because apparently Oscar winners got limos—Katherine kicked off her heels and curled against me.

"Thank you," she said.

"For what?"

"For being exactly who you are. For not trying to be Hollywood. For being my safe place to land."

"Always."

She dozed against my shoulder as we drove through LA traffic. I watched the city lights streak by and thought about how much had changed in eighteen months.

I'd gone from barely sleeping, drowning in cybersecurity nightmares and Ukraine guilt, to this—married to an Oscar-winning actress, living in small-town Tennessee, actually building something that looked like a life.

My phone buzzed. Text from Jase.

Jase: She won!!!!! Bonnie's crying. The twins made her a crown out of aluminum foil. When are you coming home?

Me: Tomorrow. Tell the twins I'll bring them fake Oscars from the gift shop.

Jase: They'll lose their minds. Proud of you, cousin. You both deserve this.

I looked down at Katherine, her red dress pooling around her, her Oscar clutched in one hand, her other hand resting on my thigh. My wife. My home.

Yeah.