Chapter 38: The Life After Yes

There was no jet to Paris.No overwater bungalow in Bora Bora.No elaborate honeymoon itinerary.

Eliza and Will spent the first three days of married life in the upstate cottage they'd renovated together last fall—a place with too few outlets and far too much silence.

They loved it.

On the first morning, Will made coffee while she padded barefoot around the kitchen in one of his old T-shirts.

He offered her the mug with a grin. "Still sure you want forever?"

She took a sip, eyes locked on his. "Still sure you can handle it?"

He kissed her before she could walk away, slow and lingering, one hand curling around her waist.

It turned into something else.Deeper.Hungrier.

The coffee went cold.

Neither of them cared.

Later, wrapped in a blanket on the sun-warmed porch, she rested her head on his shoulder as they watched deer move like shadows through the woods.

"This is what I was afraid of," she murmured.

He blinked. "Deer?"

She smiled faintly. "Stillness. The idea of slowing down. I thought I'd disappear without the rush."

He didn't respond right away.

Just let the silence stretch.

Then: "And now?"

She turned her face into his neck. "Now I think I was never really breathing until I found you."

At night, their intimacy wasn't frantic. It wasn't choreographed.

It was honest.

Will touched her like he already knew every inch—but wanted to rediscover her anyway.

Eliza let herself need. She didn't hide behind control or performance.

She gasped against his mouth when he whispered her name like a prayer.

And when he sank into her, slow and unhurried, her nails left marks on his back—not out of pain, but presence.

This wasn't conquest. It wasn't about power.

It was belonging.

She kissed him afterward—forehead, jaw, chest—like she was signing her name in invisible ink.

And when he reached for her hand in the dark, lacing their fingers, she said something she never had before.

Something she once believed she'd never be soft enough to mean.

"I feel safe with you."

Will didn't speak.

He just pulled her closer.

And that was answer enough.

By the end of the week, they were back in the city. Emails pinged. Meetings resumed. The world spun like it always did.

But now—

When Eliza came home, there was music playing.

When Will burned dinner, she didn't scold him. She kissed the smoke out of his hair and ordered Thai.

When they fought, it wasn't cold.

When they loved, it wasn't perfect.

But it was real.

This wasn't the fairy tale.

It was the fire they chose to keep lit.

Every single day.