Chapter Thirty-One

TRINITY

The next few weeks passed in a blur, each day folding into the next like pages turning in a book neither of us had the heart to put down. Stephen and I were slowly but surely working through everything. The heaviness between us was still there—lingering like fog—but the light was shining through. For every question I asked, he was more receptive than the day before. It wasn’t easy for him—baring the wounds of his past—but he was doing it. Not because I demanded it, but because he finally understood why I needed to know.

I wasn’t asking to judge him.

I was asking so I could understand him. So I could better love the man I had already given my heart to. So I could be the woman he needed to rise higher, to believe in more.

The closer it got to Clint and Mia’s return, the more frequently Stephen reinforced he was done with that life. That his future, his real future, was with me. It had never been an ultimatum. I didn’t make him choose me or the lifestyle—I’d only shown him why I couldn’t settle for it. And every time he said that our life together was more important than any business deal or street loyalty, it gave me a little more peace. A little more validation that maybe … just maybe, we were going to be okay.

We’d even had a few dinners out with Luke and Todd. Their relationship was blossoming beautifully, and it warmed me to see the people I loved most getting along so effortlessly. Stephen and Todd had struck up a surprising friendship, and they even started showing up at the office for impromptu lunches with Luke and me. It was like this quiet dream forming in the background—a family, not by blood, but by bond. And I adored it.

That morning, I woke with a rush of excitement. Clint and Mia were finally coming home.

I’d missed them more than I realised—especially having them around the house. And Stephen? He might not have said it out loud, but he was completely lost without Clint. That bond ran deeper than just friendship.

Wanting to make it a sweet morning, I slipped out of bed and headed to the kitchen. The coffee machine sputtered to life, filling the air with the rich, comforting aroma of espresso. I was dancing around, practically floating, as I set up our mugs. The mood was high. The music was low. Everything felt light.

Until I felt a presence.

Assuming it was Stephen, I smiled and turned around with a soft, sultry tease ready on my lips.

“Morning, dadd—Shit! Sorry, Mike.” My face flared red with heat.

Mike chuckled, leaning against the doorframe with that easy confidence that suddenly felt a little ~too~ familiar.

“No problem,” he said, but something about his smirk made me uncomfortable. “Probably don’t tell Stephen that one. I’m not sure how he’d feel knowing you called ~me~ that.”

His tone was casual, but his stare … wasn’t. And when he winked, that unease bloomed in my gut like a cold flower.

Before I could respond, Stephen walked in, the heat of his body and the steadiness of his presence grounding me.

“What did you call him?” Stephen asked, tone light but with an edge that only I would catch. He came straight over, wrapping a strong arm around my waist and kissing me softly. “Morning, beautiful.”

“Nothing to worry about, man. She thought I was you and went to call me daddy.”

Really, Mike?

I stiffened, mortified. It was obvious it had been a simple mistake, and yet the smug look on his face said he was enjoying this way too much.

Stephen didn’t flinch.

“She didn’t say it, though, did she?” he countered coolly. “Besides … now you know why I’m the lucky one. Right, baby?”

I looked up at him with a sly smile. “That’s right, ~daddy~.”

He chuckled, pulling me a little closer. “I’m pretty busy today, baby. Thought I’d have a coffee with you before I head off.”

I narrowed my eyes, catching the mischief behind his grin. “I’m not impressed with you right now,” I said, turning my head just as he leaned down to kiss me.

Stephen growled playfully and caught me around the waist, yanking me back into him, his lips finding my neck.

“And that’s my cue to leave…” Mike mumbled as he slipped out.

“Yes, it is,” Stephen muttered, never breaking rhythm.

We fooled around a little while waiting for the coffee to finish, then took our mugs out to our favourite spot under the patio, the early morning light spilling across the tiles.

“I had an idea,” Stephen said, settling beside me.

“Oh yeah? Hit me.”

“We should all go out tonight. You, me, Luke, Todd, Clint, Mia. Dinner and then drinks at Capulet—just like old times.”

My smile was instant. “That sounds perfect.”

“And it’ll give us a chance to hear all about their honeymoon.”

“Well … not all of it.” I laughed. “Some things should stay private.”

We got dressed and headed to the airport, nerves bubbling under my skin as we stood at the arrival gate. The moment I saw Mia, she broke into a sprint, racing toward me with a shriek of joy.

But Clint? Clint launched past her like a man on a mission and practically tackled Stephen in a bear hug.

“Girl! I missed you so much!” Clint squealed in a pitch that had me choking on my own laughter.

Stephen didn’t miss a beat. “Babes!” he replied, fanning himself dramatically. “You have no idea what I’ve been through. I met someone. He’s a dreamboat.”

Mia and I were howling as they carried on like two teenagers at summer camp.

“So…” I said through my giggles, “Who’s Rose and who’s Jack?”

Clint tossed his head back proudly. “Obviously I’m Rose. Better hair, bigger chest. Duh.”

The laughter rolled over us again and in that moment; I realised just how much I’d missed them. Missed this. Our family.

“Drinks tonight?” Mia asked, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“I’m already one step ahead,” Stephen told her. “Reservations are locked in.”

“Perfect!” she squealed.

We grabbed lunch on the way back, flicking through their honeymoon photos and listening to every memory they shared. Once we got home, Clint, and Mia went to rest, and Stephen and I caught up on some light work so we could keep tomorrow free.

When I finally walked down the stairs, dressed and ready for the night, Stephen’s gaze met me with the hunger that made my knees weaken. He looked at me like I was the only thing he could see.

And in his eyes, I saw it again—his devotion, his love … his peace.

Because for the first time in his life, maybe he finally had something real to come home to.

“See something you like, daddy?” I teased, letting the words drip with every ounce of playfulness I had in me.

“No, momma…” His voice was low, gravelled, thick with desire as he closed the distance between us. “I see something I love.”

I giggled, my breath catching as his mouth found mine in a kiss so warm and sure it grounded me in place. His hands roamed as mine slid down the front of his chest, fingers dragging slowly over his toned torso.

“You look pretty fresh there yourself, babe,” I said, biting my lip as I let my eyes rake over him, shameless.

“Get your ass in there now…” His voice dropped deeper, dangerous now, that familiar glint of mischief lighting up his eyes. “Before I throw you on that bed and spank it.”

Oh, he was serious.

I laughed and took off, heels clicking on the floor as I dashed out of reach, the heat from him still clinging to my skin. Stephen was hot on my heels as we bounded through the hallway, the two of us laughing like idiots.

When we skidded to a halt in the lounge room, we were greeted by the amused stares of Luke, Todd, Mia and Clint—already waiting, dressed, and looking thoroughly entertained.

“In a hurry, you two?” Luke arched an eyebrow.

“Just chasing a piece of tail, mate,” Stephen quipped without shame.

The four guys burst into laughter while Mia and I groaned in unison, rolling our eyes at the cheesiness. Classic Stephen.

We piled into the car service, music low, chatter high, and made our way to the restaurant. Dinner was perfection. Good food, better company, and enough laughs to make my cheeks hurt. The atmosphere was effortless between us all. Like a chosen family just being... us.

After the meal, we made our way to Capulet, sliding into our usual booth. Stephen ordered two bottles of champagne, the good stuff, and when the glasses were poured, he stood up with the flair of a man about to make a speech for the Queen.

“A toast, please, if you all will?” He held his glass aloft.

I tried not to laugh at his overly serious expression, his voice suddenly all pomp and circumstance, like he was about to deliver a state address.

“Friends,” he began, “I love you guys, and I couldn’t be more thankful to have you all in my life.”

We all chorused “Here, here,” lifting our glasses in kind.

“So, with this glass,” he continued, pausing as his green eyes turned to lock on mine, “I’d like to raise a toast to you all … but especially…”

He turned to me, and my heart skipped—literally skipped—as he pointed his glass in my direction. My smile froze.

“Trinity Reffett…” His voice wavered ever so slightly, and it made my heart ache. “You are the blood that keeps my heart flowing, the air that keeps my lungs inflated. You are my soul. My love. My life.”

The words hit me like waves, each one deeper than the last. The bar had hushed. The music seemed quieter. Even the surrounding air was still, waiting.

“So today,” he continued, eyes glassy but sure, “I ask you … will you be my wife?”