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Amusement flickers in her eyes as I stumble to a stop, still making sure she’s secure in my arms. “But now it’s my moment, and I want a hug,” I mumble. I dip my head and nuzzle her throat.

“You know…” She chuckles. “I’m just going to keep telling you until you eventually believe me.”

I nip her neck lightly, and she releases a pretty gasp for me.

“That’s fine by me because it will likely take forever, which means you’ll just have to be stuck with me forever,” I declare, burrowing my face into the point where her neck meets her shoulder, and I repeat the suction before releasing it with a pop.

“I want forever with you,” she confesses. The seriousness of her words and promise has my vulnerable heart jolting, wanting to detach and leap straight into her hands.

Rosy cradles my face in her palms and tugs lightly so our mouths are just a breath apart. A moan falls from my lips, and she inhales softly.

“I want forever with you, too,” I whisper.

I want nothing more than to stay locked together like this. Every self-doubt, every fear, every fragile piece of my heart is hers.

I mutter a fevered “Forever” against her lips, then pour every ounce of myself into the kiss.

FIFTY-SEVEN

ROSY

“Um…Bry? I don’t think it’s supposed to look like this.” I try to rein in the panic and disappointment, but shit. I knew I’d fail.

I keep stirring, unable to look away from the pan in hope that it might…magically work.

Bry’s hands land on my hips, and he looks over my shoulder. I tense and wait for him to tell me I failed. Not that it would be surprising. I planned a two-course meal for Noah’s birthday, but deciding to cook it all myself probably wasn’t a great idea.

And now it’s flopped.

“That looks fine to me. It should be almost done,” he says, and his fingers squeeze softly.

My brows pinch as I stare at the shrunken tofu crumbles mixed with the mushrooms. “Why has it shrivelled up? Shouldn’t it look slightly more appetising?”

He laughs, then places a kiss on the side of my head. “No, both tofu and mushrooms reduce a little when they’re cooked. Just give it a couple more minutes, then they’re done.”

“Okay, two minutes. Got it.” I nod and check my phone’s clock to count down.

“Do you want me to start on the bread for you?” Bry asks. He steps back, his hands falling away, and I fight my body’s response to follow him.

“No, I need to do it. If you do it all for me, then it’s cheating.” I huff and glance at the time. One more minute.

Mirth coats his tone as he responds. “Okay, okay. There’s no way Noah will think that, though. He’s going to be excited that you did this for him.”

I stir the ingredients absentmindedly. “Are you sure? Because I still think it’s not as exciting as going out to eat. Is it really lame for me to cook for him?”

Bry scoffs and hugs me tightly. This time, his arms wrap around my middle tightly, and his chest presses against my back. “Definitely not. He’s going to love it, I promise. But does this mean you’re setting a new precedent for us to all get a date night with you on our birthday?”

It’s hardly a date night, really. I didn’t want to take away the usual dinner we have together as it’s a part of our day I’ve come to love. But afterwards, I’ve planned a film for just the two of us, to give him my gift and surprise him with something else too. The last part is a bit last-minute, and I hoped it would arrive this morning, although it still hasn’t. Too nervous for any of them to see it, I ordered it to arrive next door.

It’s not like I’ve ever ordered lingerie like that before, so I wasn’t sure how it would be packaged. If the brand name is on the box, and Max sees it…there’s no way he wouldn’t open it to see inside.

“Oh. I guess? If that’s something you’d want?” I reply.

He nuzzles my ear, and I shiver at the touch. “It would be the perfect birthday.”

I check the clock, and my stomach knots. Shit. I shuffle his arms off me. “They cooked for four minutes, not two. Oh, Bry, I’ve ruined it,” I gasp, and pull it off the heat frantically.

He gently removes my hands from the pan and cradles them to his chest. “Rosy, they’re not ruined. You’re honestly doing great. The tiramisu is in the fridge—,” he says.