: Chapter 28

Payton

Before, March

One week.

One glorious week of doing absolutely nothing.

It’s exactly what I need after the last couple of months I’ve had. The internship kept me busy and bouncing around each day, which I’m grateful for. I’ve learned so much from it, and I’ve already made it halfway through the online, go-at-your-own-pace courses they enrolled me in, but I am so ready for all the free time I’m about to have with my son.

My hours are still just part-time, so he’s only in the organization’s care center or with Lolli for four hours, five if I count drive time, a few days a week, and I only do my course work once he’s asleep for the night, but oh my god. It’s going to be so nice not having to jump up first thing every morning and get our asses together.

I understand now why in all the movies, the moms are up and ready before the kids even roll out of bed. We need that precious silence as much as we need the chaos that follows.

Warm coffee in one hand and monitor tucked beneath my arm, I slip out the back door. I flick on the gas firepit and drop onto the little couch on the back deck, gazing out at the early morning ocean.

I bring my cup up, taking a long whiff, and a smile crosses my face. “Early morning breeze, coffee, and warm fire is my exact idea of spring break.”

“And here I thought I would be the highlight.”

I jump at the sound of his voice, my coffee spilling over the edge slightly. My head whips around, spotting Mason on the sand, only his head visible through the planks of the high deck.

“What the heck?” I squeal, setting my mug down and running to meet him at the stairs.

I don’t know what comes over me, but I jump, knowing he’ll catch me at the foot of the steps.

My legs wrap around him, and he laughs, jogging up with me in his arms, his lips pressing to my cheek before he pulls back.

“Damn if that wasn’t the exact greeting I was hoping for.”

“Why are you here?”

He raises a brow, looking to the monitor on the table, Deaton still fast asleep in his crib.

I roll my eyes, wiggling until he reluctantly sets me on my feet. “I mean aren’t you supposed to be getting on a plane right about now?”

“Oh, that?” He smirks, moving into the house and straight over to the coffeepot to make his own cup.

I trail his every move, following him back out to the patio and lowering into the seat I jumped from when he plants himself into the space beside it.

“Are you going to talk now?” I playfully scold.

Mason lifts a finger, takes a sip of his coffee, and nods his head. “You’re right. This is my kind of spring break.”

I glare. “You were supposed to be headed to Mexico.”

“Was I?” He tips his head, laughing when I smack him playfully on the back of it. “I heard Parker was able to get off and he and Kenra decided to go, too, which meant⁠—”

“I am fine on my own, Mason.” I frown.

“—that I had a chance to have you two all to myself, and I took it,” he finishes as if I didn’t speak.

Damn if I don’t get all warm and fuzzy at that. God, I’m such a girl. “Stop.”

“I’m serious.” He grins, eyes traveling over me like he knows I’m happy about this. “Cashed in my plane ticket and got something better.”

“What could be better than a trip to Mexico with your friends?”

“A trip to Disneyland with my girl.”

His eyes widen as if he didn’t mean to say that and before I can respond, not that I have a response other than the blush I’m trying to fight, because oh my, I don’t hate the sound of that.

I should, right?

Wait.

“Did you say Disneyland?”

Mason grins wide. “Better soak up these next two days of early morning breeze, Pretty Little, ‘cause the three after that, that breeze will be rolling in on a balcony overlooking downtown Disney.”

I try to rein in my excitement, I really, really do, but I can’t help the squeal that escapes, and I dive into his arms, hugging him tight.

When I pull back, I realize I’m half in his lap, and his hand is running up and down my spine.

I chew my lip, and Mason leans forward.

My lips part, but Mason reaches past me, handing me my mug.

“Here you go,” he rasps, tucking it into my hands.

I take it and face the water, but I don’t move from his lap, and he doesn’t ask me to.

We sit there in the early morning, enjoying each other’s company in complete and utter silence.

It’s the most relaxed I’ve felt in weeks.

But there’s something about Mason that soothes me, isn’t there?

Something that’s always there beneath my skin, hovering. Heating. Reminding me of the man who’s had my back when he didn’t have to.

“I’m happy you’re here,” I admit.

His lips slide along my temple, and he whispers so low, I’m not so sure he intended for me to hear. “Where you are is where I want to be.”

I close my eyes at the thought, basking in the warmth his words bring.

It’s going to be a good week.

“Come on, come on. It starts in five minutes.” I drag Mason by the wrist, literally, and he chuckles all the way, Deaton strapped to his chest in the little carrier he demanded I let him buy on the drive out here.

“You know, for a girl with face paint on, you’re kind of bossy.”

“Because a unicorn horn and glittery rainbow cheeks deem me a sweetheart.” I laugh. “If I miss this, you’re gonna get it.”

“Kind of tempted to make us miss it just to see what that means.”

I don’t have to look back to see if he’s smirking. I know he is.

“Keep it up, Johnson, and I’ll steal all your blankets tonight.”

The chuckle that leaves him is dark, and I don’t dare peek his way, realizing it was not the right thing to say and well aware my chest is on fire right now.

We make it to the gate with two minutes to spare, only for me to learn the lightning passes come with a grace period in case you are, in fact, late. Oh well, I wasn’t about to risk it.

We’re pretty much at the front of the line and stepping into the large bucket-like contraptions faster than I expected.

Mason chuckles suddenly, a soft and airy sound, and I look over to find him staring.

“What?”

His lips are curved to one side, and he shakes his head. “I like how excited you are for this ride, as if there isn’t a Ferris wheel in Oceanside you can go ride anytime you want.”

“Oh, Superstar, you haven’t put it together yet?” I grin, unclipping my travel case and pulling out my camera, pointing my finger at the sky before us.

Mason looks out, and slowly, the other side of his mouth lifts. “Well, hot damn.”

I nod. “We’ll have the best view of the sunset, and if I timed it right yesterday, on our second round up, we’ll be at the very tip-top, but it’s not only that.” I turn and tip my head over my shoulder. “Look.”

“Man.” He nods, eyes roaming over both of the parks in view, the lights from the rides starting to glow brighter with the movement of the sun. “You really do have the eye of an artist.”

I smile behind my lens, snapping a few images of the park from up high, my eyes flicking to the sky every few moments just in case. As predicted, the sun is nearly halfway disappeared just as we hit the very top and the cart pauses for the change in riders below.

I click and click and click, smiling at the sight. Just as I go to lower my camera to my lap, I hear Mason sigh. It’s a long, gentle sound, and when I look over, my stomach flutters, a silky shuddering that melts my muscles.

My son is asleep, still cradled in the carrier strapped to Mason’s chest. Mason’s lips are settled at his hairline, resting there adoringly, his palm pressed to the curve of his bottom as he stares silently out at the pinks and blues in the distance.

It’s a beautiful sight, a hundred times better than the setting sun I was so desperate to see and one I know I want to hold on to, so I shift my camera to capture it. The moment it clicks, there’s a matching sensation that takes place behind my ribs, a soft, shadowy shudder I can’t quite put my finger on, but warmth washes over me, and I smile at the two, camera clutched tight between my hands.

I’ll look back on this moment with the fondest of memories.

A man and a little boy.

A father-and-son moment any mother would love the opportunity to catch. And me—I’m glad I have someone in my life who holds my son with the same thread of care as I do.

And Mason does.

He holds him like he doesn’t want to let him go.

He holds him like he loves him because he does.

“Thank you,” I find myself whispering.

Mason’s head snaps my way, as if for a moment, he forgot where we were and that I was even here. When he really looks at me, his expression morphs from confusion to something…more.

“For?” he asks softly.

It’s a fair question. We both know there are a million things I could be thanking him for.

Like the incommensurable gift of Deaton’s grave location and that very first day I arrived in Oceanside. For this very moment.

For all the time, thought, and care in between.

“Everything.” Keeping my eyes on his, I lay my head back on the cart, my vision blurring, but for once it’s not in sorrow. “You mean a lot to me, Mase.” More than you know.

“You mean a lot to me, too, Pretty Little,” he whispers.

You love me, don’t you?

I swallow hard, the question sudden and the answer terrifying, because as my mind conjures it, the answer isn’t one that needs to be spoken. It’s obvious.

Mason Johnson is in love with me, and I think he has been for a while now.

I wonder what Deaton would say if I told him this when I see him in my dreams tonight. Would he be angry? Happy?

I honestly don’t know, but I like to think it would be the latter.

Mason stares into my eyes, so much written in his deep brown irises, but he says nothing, just places his hand on my knee in offering, and something inside me liquifies.

Reaching out, I cover his hand with mine, our fingers threading together in a perfect little fit.

I close my eyes as we grow closer to the ground, settled in a way I’m not sure I’ve ever felt. “Okay,” I rasp. “We can do whatever you want to do now.”

Mason squeezes my fingers.

We stay on the ride two more times, and somewhere in the back of my mind, a low, loving voice I know all too well whispers…

What if this is a ride you never get off?

Mason

After two long days in the park, we only lasted until after lunch on the third and final one, deciding to head back to the hotel to hit up the tiki-style restaurant beside the pool for an early dinner.

We order a few items from the appetizer menu and sit out on the patio, the weather in March as nice as it is in May here, with maybe a little less heat depending on the day. When Payton comes back from the restroom, she spots the two frozen daiquiris in front of our plates and raises a blond brow.

“It’s little man. Makes people think I’m older,” I tease. “Well, that and the fake ID Brady got me.”

Payton laughs, shaking her head and eyeing the fresh, fruity drink before her. “What if they ask for mine?”

“Just pick up Deaton, and she’ll forget all about it.”

“Doubtful.” She chews her lip, gingerly reaching out for the drink, but pushes it my way with a small smile. “I appreciate it and it looks amazing, but I can’t have alcohol quite yet.”

Leaning forward, I push it right back. “I know. That’s why yours is a virgin and mine is not.”

She stares for a moment, and then a smile spreads across her face, and she yanks it back. “Well, in that case.” She takes a long drink, wincing. “Oh my, good, so good, but holy brain freeze.”

Chuckling, I slouch in my chair, spinning the little toy hanging from the arc of Deaton’s stroller again and again, loving the squawky sounds he makes as he does his best to grab it. He’s kicking his feet like crazy, and I can’t help but reach out and tickle the bottoms.

“Oh, so you’re ticklish, huh, little man.” I tickle up his thighs and back down.

He squirms and stuffs his hands in his mouth, smiling around his chubby fingers and sending drool down his chin.

I smile, and when I feel her eyes on me, I glance up.

Sure enough, she’s staring, straw stuck between her lips, hair lying down her back for the first time in a while.

I reach out, tugging it gently, and her mouth curls over the straw, a softness settled across her.

“He likes you,” she says.

“Pshhh.” I grin, looking back down at my guy. “Of course he does. I’m his favorite, ain’t that right?” I lean in, pretending like he’s whispering something. “Oh yeah? Well, let’s see.” I play it out, winking at him for show, and then I thrust my hand out, tickling his mama along the ribs.

She squeals in laughter, tossing her head back, fingers wrapped around the drink. I bend in more, pressing my fingers high on her ribs, and she twists and shifts, her ass sliding right off the chair, but I catch her, half standing over her as I tug her back up. The move has me leaning over her completely, her head dropped back, staring up at me with innocent yet indulgent eyes.

Yeah.

She feels it. This intangible marking, like the laces of a football, weaving us together to create the perfect placement. The perfect pair. We’re tied in a way neither of us expected.

A way I can’t fight. Don’t want to.

I lean down, eyes closing as I press my lips to her cheek, inhaling her and holding on for a moment longer before I lower into my seat once more.

When I look up, her cheeks are as red as the lipstick she put on to match the ears on top of her head, and I can’t help but wonder if every part of her changes colors this way.

Heat builds in my core, but thankfully, Deaton starts to whine, and I snap out of it, quickly rushing to unbuckle and lift him into my arms.

Little man goes silent instantly, laying his little chin on my shoulder, taking a fistful of my shirt and tugging it to his mouth.

Payton’s chuckle is soft, and she shakes her head, taking the last wing from the plate in the center. “Such a spoiled little guy.”

“Say, ‘Damn straight, Mama.’”

Payton raises a brow, and I laugh louder.

“Okay, so my baby vocabulary needs some work, but I think I’m doing a pretty good job.”

Payton chews her food, looking away for a moment, but when she goes for another drink, I see the smile she tries to hide, and I take it as a nonverbal Yeah, Mase, you are.

Deaton starts rubbing his face along my shoulder, kicking a little more frantically, and I look her way with worry.

She smiles, whipping her hands up and pushing to her feet. “That means he’s ready to eat.”

“I can feed him.” I glance into the bag sitting under the stroller, looking for one of the bottles, but there’s no more in the side pocket. I look up at her, and her cheeks tinge pink.

“I, um, forgot my pump, and we used all the formula I brought at the parks the last few days so…”

I replay her words a few times, and it finally dawns on me: She needs to feed him, as in…with her body. I think about last night and yesterday morning, how after I got out of the shower both times, she was burping him, and I realize she’s only been breastfeeding when I’ve been away or occupied.

Why does that bother me?

I clear my throat, fighting off the sense of…I don’t even know what, and add our room information to the bill the lady set down before standing with him in my arms.

Silently, we make our way back to the room, me holding Deaton and her pushing the stroller.

People smile at us as they walk by, and the little kids stare at him like he’s a toy they wish they could play with, and it all fills me with a sense of pride I may have no right to feel but do.

It doesn’t hurt to pretend, right? If in my head I also see us as the little family these strangers see when their eyes are on us.

Man, is that fucked-up?

“Do you think we could go down to the spa?”

My mind clears, new images replacing the others, and the idea of a man rubbing his hands all over her has me frowning. “I mean, I can give you a massage if you need it. My hands are strong.”

While she blushes a bit, she also smiles. “No, like…the hot tub spa?”

“Oh.” Now the images in my head? “Ohhh.”

Payton laughs, and I swear she knows what I was thinking. Maybe even likes it, the thought of a man getting jealous over her.

No, the thought of me jealous.

“I mean, I didn’t bring a suit or anything, but I have a pair spandex shorts I can wear, and we leave tomorrow, so I can just wear this top in.” She looks to the T-shirt she’s wearing, a frown on her face.

I can see the moment she starts to change her mind.

She fiddles with the hem, tugging it outward so it doesn’t press against her newfound curves and starts chewing on her lower lip. “Actually⁠—”

“We are definitely hitting up the hot tub, even if we have to wrestle some ten-year-olds for a spot by the jets.”

Payton looks my way with a knowing smirk.

“I don’t have trunks either, so basketball shorts it is, and you can borrow one of my tops if you want.”

“I might just take you up on that.” She grins, heading out of the elevator before me and moving up toward our room.

We step inside, and I talk a bunch of nonsense to Deaton as she stacks pillows on the freshly made bed before moving over to me to take her son into her arms.

I try to busy myself, but we picked up before we headed out this morning, and the maids were already here, so I’m moving around aimlessly. I dig in my bag for clothes to get wet in, change, and take too long in the bathroom to kill time. I move to my suitcase once more, folding and refolding my clothes.

“Mason.”

“Yeah?” My voice is scratchy, so I clear it and try again. “Yeah?”

“Sit down,” she says softly.

Finally, I look up at her, and my shoulders ease when I spot the blanket thrown over her shoulder, the baby hidden behind it.

“Are you blushing, Mr. Johnson?”

I scowl, and she chuckles, dropping her back onto the mass of pillows behind her.

“I am not blushing.” Okay, so my face does feel a little warm. Sighing, I raise a brow, and she smiles, but it grows a little anxious as I lower beside her. “Okay, I’ve never actually seen anyone breastfeed before so…I mean, yeah, I guess I was a little nervous, but only ’cause I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

She nods, peeking under the blanket before looking back. “Yeah, honestly, it was kind of awkward at first, especially at the hospital. The nurse would just…walk in and stare to see how he was doing and make sure he was, well, you know, that it was all going how it was supposed to. Maybe it seemed strange to have people watching because I was young or maybe because it was new, I don’t know, but after a while, it just felt natural.” She shrugs, glancing over at me.

“Can you feel him?” I wonder. “I mean, does it hurt or…”

“I know when he’s eating and when he stops, but it doesn’t hurt, not anymore. Like right now,” she says softly, then her arms start to move under the blanket, and instead of his little toes poking out beside me, a bit of dark hair appears. She’s switched sides. She looks at me then. “How come you’re not nervous with him?”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean to hold him or play with him. I swear Parker freaks out if he moves in his arms, and don’t get me started on Nate. He goes stiff and starts to panic if he cries for five seconds.”

“I hate that they see him more than I do.” The words fly out before I realize they’re coming, and my eyes snap her way. “I mean…” I try to backpedal.

“You meant what you said.” Payton’s features are soft as she whispers, “You hate that they see him more than you can.” She chews on her lips, gaze moving between mine. “I like that you hate that.”

“You do, huh?”

She nods. “I like how much you care. How often you call to talk to him, even when he might not know it. I like how you check in on him, sometimes without saying a word about me.”

“I’m always wondering what you’re doing and wanting to check in on you.”

“I know, and I like that, too.”

A question that’s crossed my mind pops up, and I force myself to ask it. “Do you think Deaton would have liked me much?”

I don’t know what I expected, but Payton’s smile spreads wide, and my heart thumps heavy in my chest, doubling when she says, “I know he would. I talk to him about you sometimes, in my dreams I mean.” Her cheeks pinken, but I don’t have time to consider why she would be embarrassed to admit that, because she just admitted that.

She talks to him…about me.

That’s no small revelation.

That’s a gauntlet thrown into still waters, creating a rippling effect that expands to the very edge of who I am and what this means to me. A complete change in the foundation of what I feel for this girl is built on.

My eyes hold hers, and then a tiny hand appears, fist latching on to the edge of the blanket covering her and tugging it down until his little face appears.

His eyes snap up to mine, his mouth, still wrapped around his mama, curving into a gummy smile before closing around her once more.

My eyes lift to hers, and when I find hers already on me, I reach over, running my thumb along her lips. “I—” want to kiss you so fucking bad, Pretty Little. I swallow. “I’m going to step out on the balcony,” I say instead.

I see a flash of disappointment sparking in her baby blues, but I can’t think about that right now, so I convince myself I imagined it.

Outside, I take a deep breath, trying to calm the wild waves of emotion raging inside me. When I lift my head, I let my gaze travel over the place, the pool and play zone quieter than it was last night and the restaurant twice as busy as earlier. But what really gets my attention is the rope lights to the far right, what looks to be a reception in full swing.

“I guess this is what they mean when they say fairy-tale wedding?” Payton steps up, folding her hands over the railing. She must see the question, answering before it’s asked. “He’s out. Not sure I have the heart to put him in the stroller to make it to the spa, though.”

I shake my head. “Leave him. He had a long day, taking pictures with characters and all.”

“Oh yeah, he must be so exhausted,” she teases back.

I slip my hand in my pocket, pulling it out and holding my fist up between us. “I got you something today.”

A small frown builds across her brows, but her lips twitch in excitement as my fingers uncurl, her eyes locking on to the small blown-glass item in the center of my palm. Her lips part, and when she reaches up, her gaze meets mine first, asking for permission.

I nod, and she gently takes it from my hand, tilting hers from right to left, smiling as the glass glimmers from pink to blue, depending on where the bit of light around us hits it.

“It’s so pretty,” she says softly.

“It’s a lotus flower.”

She inspects it more closely, her fingers gliding along the smooth edging.

“The lady said they grow even in the worst condition because they’re resilient and strong, just like you.” Those blues meet mine, holding with an intensity that has my palms sweating. “The petals, they close at night, only to open again the next day. It’s like coming out of darkness and finding the light again.”

Payton stares at the small flower with what can only be described as longing. She tucks it close to her chest, her eyes closing before reopening and lifting up to meet mine. “Thank you, Mason. It’s…perfect.”

I nod, watching as she sets it on the small table beside us, turning to face me in a way that has me doing the same, her head tipping back and smiling a soft sort of sly smile that has my skin prickling.

She glances toward the party below and back. “You gonna ask me to dance, or is that only when the beach is involved?”

Heat spreads through me, and I wrap my arm around her back, yanking her to me so hard she gasps, her palms slapping at my chest on impact. Slowly, her arms slide up, wrapping around my neck, and I press her even closer, bending so my head can rest along hers.

The music is soft but reaches us easily, and we sway to the beat.

It’s hard not to listen to the lyrics of “What’s Mine Is Yours” by Kane Brown and imagine it’s playing just for us.

I didn’t know I was a sap like this. I used to tease my dad when he’d talk to my mom like he was reading from some book of poetry or roll my eyes when he’d refer to her as if she was this angel sent here just for him, but now…I get it.

I understand the feeling of utter perfection and raw need, because this girl, she is that for me.

She’s light and sun and reason.

It’s like despite everything that’s transpired and all the hurt that she went through, it happened for a purpose, to lead her right here. Right to me.

My arms tighten around her until we’re flush against each other, and hers do the same, her palm pressing and sliding along the back of my head. The feeling is so fucking foreign, a shiver runs through me, and I know without a doubt I will never find this anywhere else.

I don’t want to.

I really need her to be mine.

Please, baby, be mine?

As the song comes to an end, I slowly release her, and with every bit of space that grows between us, a weight drops onto my shoulders.

I try to smile as I back away, doing all I can to slip past her without touching her, because it’s all too fucking much.

It’s too much and not enough, and I might be freaking out a bit. I sidestep into the room, but then her little hand presses to my abdomen, halting me.

Every muscle in my body freezes, nothing but my eyes able to move, lifting and locking with hers.

Her fingers are trembling, little creases forming between her brows as she shifts on her feet until she’s facing me fully.

I don’t move.

Her other hand finds mine at my side, her touch so fucking soft as she takes it, lifting until it’s pressed against her chest.

Her heart is beating out of control, not unlike my own, and when she steps closer, my chest inflates, a heavy pounding echoing in my head as I wait to see what happens next.

The hand on my stomach glides higher so it’s in the same place on my body as she placed mine on hers.

She swallows. Her lips part, and she whispers, “Hey, Mase?”

I say nothing, just wait.

“I…I can’t stand the thought of not.”

It takes me a moment, two really, but then her words register. They were mine after all.

I close the last bit of distance between us, my hands falling to my sides. “Well then, Pretty Little,” I rasp, my voice too thick, need coursing through me like never before. “You know what to do, don’t you?”

“I’m scared.”

“Not as scared as I am.”

“What if I hurt you?” she asks quietly.

“I’ll forgive you.”

“Promise me,” she whispers. “Promise me, Mason.”

“I promise you, baby.”

She surges onto her toes, and the world fucking stops.

Sparks fly, fireworks boom, and the brassy note of a trumpet blares.

She fucking kisses me, and it’s soul-wrecking. Bone-crushing.

She’s ruining me with nothing but her luscious lips.

They’re pillowy, thick, and full, and so goddamn soft, like clouds of silky sweetness.

She tastes like sugar and honey and mine.

My arms wind around her, and I don’t know what I’m doing until I feel the glass against my skin, her back now flush against it, my need for her to be close taking over.

She arches into me, her tongue chasing and tangling with mine, the sweeps delicate but daring, long strokes and needy flicks. And when a low, whiny whimper slips from her mouth into mine, I have to grab on to the wall to steady myself.

My body is fucking shaking, an overwhelming sense of rightness I couldn’t explain if I tried consuming me, burning me alive from the inside out. I’m on fucking fire. It’s sensory overload and endless suspension. It’s an electric current that only she can charge, and it’s coursing through every fiber of my being.

It’s fucking us, and if I have any say in this world, it will never change, because… my god.

I get it now. This right here, this is why I exist.

It’s why my family bought a house decades ago in a little town called Oceanside and why a girl named Lolli became best friends with a boy named Parker. It’s why she fell in love with my cousin Nate. To lead them to Oceanside.

To lead her to me.

She might have had more than one purpose in life, but the reason for that is clear to me, and he’s sleeping but five feet away. But I was sent here with one purpose, and that is to love them both as if they’re mine.

In my eyes, they are.

I won’t let anything come between us.

I won’t love anyone the way I love them.

I couldn’t possibly.

I can only hope she feels the same and that she knows I love her son like he’s my own. He may not be my blood, but that doesn’t matter. He’s still mine, and if this changes things, if tonight means they’re becoming mine for real, he’s the only little one I want for us. It will be just us three forever. He will never have to wonder if the lack of blood we share leads to loving him differently. It doesn’t. It won’t.

Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself, but how could I not?

I’ve waited for this moment for months, and it’s here.

The girl of my dreams is in my arms, her mouth pressed to mine, heart beating wildly and showing no signs of stopping.

I hope she doesn’t.

I hope she kisses me until her lips go numb and exhaustion sets in.

I hope her lips stay on mine until her knees give and I get to lift her in my arms, just to lay her in the bed we’re sharing.

And then I hope when she finally does fall asleep, I’ll be the one she sees in her dreams, the way I have no doubt she’ll be in mine.

She is the girl of my dreams.

Please let me become the man of hers.