《 kisses and forever 》（1）

dear all, i know it's been forever (title reference!) since i last updated. i'm truly sorry if you're one of those people who are anxiously waiting to hear from me. i promised an epilogue-y bonus chapter and here it is!

for the ease of reading and editing, i've divided this into three parts. the last part is the final end where you'll learn what Sean and Flora is currently up to, but the first two parts will focus entirely on Jessica and Jake, two characters i wish to see happy (this is what a "bonus chapter" means by my definition—a chapter that spotlights different perspectives/characters.) given that i've written an entire sequel to satisfy you, my dear readers, i believe it's time for me to write what my heart desires. i'd completely understand if you wish to skip this, but i'd be eternally grateful if you still choose to support me.

i suggest reading "a gentleman's guide to hooking up" first if you forgot about Jessica and Jake, but briefly: they met when they were 18 and dated for three years in college. before the start of senior year, Jake announced they broke up because they were tired of each other. it was mentioned through the chapters that they kept in touch, but no details were shared; you're about to find out now. happy reading x

∞

Katelyn Hamilton shifted on the bar stool, regretting once again of choosing to wear the tight blue dress she borrowed from her sister. The woolly texture made her itch under the bra straps, but it was the price she had to pay if she wanted to grab the cute bartender's attention. She had been trying and failing for the past ten minutes already.

Scratch cute. Cute wasn't quite enough to capture his athletic build, his hair of soft gold and those turquoise eyes that promised disaster. Katelyn had the worst taste in men and they all turned out to be utter disappointments, which was why she tried to pick out the best-looking ones to eventually hurt her.

Mr. Disaster was now leaning against the door, talking to the bar owner, a young Hispanic guy who looked like he worked out rigorously. Their voices were dimmed and washed out by the background noise, but judging from the animated hand gestures, they were deep in discussion about something serious.

A few seats to her left, a couple stood up to leave.

Katelyn took a brief glance out of habit. The young woman had a timid expression on her face. It was almost like she was afraid of her company. When the man slid his arm around her waist, she squirmed. Katelyn forgot to think about the hot bartender for a moment. As she tried to decide if she should be alarmed, the bar owner, who was chatting and seemingly not paying attention a minute ago, stepped in to block the exit. "Everything okay there?"

"Yeah, we're just leaving," the man said. The young woman took a small step back.

Seeing the opening, the bar owner moved to place himself between the couple. "Why don't you go on first," he suggested to the man, and to the woman, "Are you sure you're okay?"

The woman shook her head hesitantly. "She's fine," the man said.

"Well, I don't feel fine about this, sir." The bar owner switched the leather motorcycle jacket he was holding to the other hand, and everyone could see his tattooed biceps bulge. He was ripped. "We'll take care of her."

The man pushed open the door and left, but not before tossing out a curse word to demonstrate he had the last word. Mr. Disaster sat the young woman down and poured her a glass of water. He talked to her until eventually she started to smile. When he asked her if she wanted help getting an Uber, she nodded.

Katelyn remembered the signs hanging in the women's restroom encouraging guests to report of anything that made them uncomfortable, promising to intervene, and she felt like they were serious. She gave the bar a mental certificate of approval, even if it meant the bartender was too busy to flirt with her. They were standing closer to her now and she managed to grasp some of their conversation.

"Are you sure you want to stick around?" The bar owner said to Mr. Disaster. He put on his jacket and slid his hands into the pockets. "Like I said, we can always hire more help for the weekends."

"No worries, I want to get more involved. It's fun hanging out here."

"I'd stay, but I really have to leave early tonight. Blair is tired of fucking me at five am, and I promised my kids I'd take them out as soon as they wake up."

"Go. It's all good." Mr. Disaster smiled like a teenager who couldn't wait to shove his parents out of the door so he could throw a party. "I'll keep an eye on Alesha and Mark and make sure they behave."

The bar owner scoffed. "They're professionals. You're the only one I worry about," he said, zipping up his jacket before leaving. Katelyn could see his motorbike parked outside.

Mr. Disaster slipped back behind the bar. Finally noticing her staring at him, he lifted his eyes to meet hers and grinned. He had annoyingly white teeth. "How's it going?"

"Good," Katelyn said, "but I'm almost through with my beer. Can I see the drink menu again?"

"Sure." He started to slide the menu across the counter. She reached out to take it, but he placed his palm on top of the menu to stop her. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Go ahead."

"I'm not a licensed mixologist."

Katelyn lifted an eyebrow.

"I'm more like an amateur bartender with a great personality and a nice smile." He flipped open the menu and pointed to the page. "Which is why you can only order from this list here, because right now these are all the drinks I can make."

"What if I want something complicated?" She pointed to the overhead blackboard with her chin. "Like '15 Nautical Miles Per Hour' or 'Lunch for Gunslinging Outlaws?'"

"You can't." He shook his head. "They're no good anyway. 'Lunch for Gunslinging Outlaws' is just a fancy name for horse pee."

"Alright then. I'll have a shot of vodka...if you can manage that, amateur bartender."

"That can be arranged." He broke into a smile as he picked up the bottle. He didn't lie; he did have a very nice smile, one that could excuse his lack of experience a thousand times.

"How are you qualified to work here?" she asked anyway.

"Good question. Under normal circumstances I wouldn't be hired, but my buddy owns this place with me, so I help out sometimes on weekends."

"This is your bar?"

"Yeah, I guess you can say that. I also have a regular, bland, exceptionally boring day job, but this is a lot more fun. I get awesome customers who let me get away with being underqualified." He winked and she stared dry-mouthed at his high cheekbones.

Fifteen minutes and two vodka shots later, Katelyn lost his attention to a group of three middle-aged men. He got them a fresh round of beer, laughing with what seemed like genuine interest. Foams ran down his knuckles when he set down the glasses. A drop of sweat sparkled on his temple.

She wasn't ready to leave.

"Hey, can you do me a favor?" He came over to her side, as if having received her telepathic message. He turned on the faucet and started rinsing the glasses in the sink.

"Sure."

"Can you get behind the bar? Yes, just lift that thing there and come through." He turned around. "Can you grab my phone out of my back pocket?"

Katelyn found out two things. One, he was wearing dark blue jeans. Two, he definitely knew how to do squats. She slipped in her hand and took out his phone, already feeling a flush on her face.

"My password is 2046," he said.

"Okay."

"Can you find my contacts and tap on it?" he asked, watching her.

"Yeah. What am I looking for?"

"Can you type in your name and number?"

She looked up from the phone and laughed. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," he said, looking very serious indeed. "What's your name?"

"Katelyn."

"Hi Kate, I'm Jake." When he smiled, a hint of mischief crept into his eyes. The color was somewhere right in the middle between blue and green. "I hope you're not leaving soon."

She punched in her number and slipped his phone back into his pocket, her wrist brushing against his waist. He was tall and she had to crane her neck to look at him. She caught a whiff of his cologne, which made her instantly bold. "Well, Jake, I guess it depends on when you get off work."

∞

Jake Lancaster picked up a clean glass and held it out to Dylan, who shook his head. He shrugged and turned to pour himself a glass of draft beer. Dylan never drank on the job, but he needed the minimum amount of alcohol to get him through another long night of troubles.

He leaned back against the counter and took a long sip. "Katelyn turned malicious the moment I told her I had a girlfriend, but then she got over it and fucked me anyway."

"Are you still pulling the girlfriend card? Why?"

"Because it works."

"As well as the 'I can't break up with her because I don't want to hurt her' card?"

"Of course. These two cards go hand-in-hand."

Dylan sneered. "That's exactly why you keep attracting the same type of girls."

"What type?"

"The type that's willing to sleep with you even though they believe you have a girlfriend," Dylan said. "You think a fake excuse like that gets rid of your one-night stands? No, it attracts women who are competitive and unsympathetic. You're asking for trouble."

Jake sighed and downed the rest of his beer. "I miss the days when you were as stupid as me."

"So what happened after you slept together?"

"She started to insult me. Said she only did it because she was a journalist and she was doing research for an article she was working on. It's called ten types of guys you meet before you get married or something."

"What the actual fuck."

"I asked, what category do I belong to? The dreamboat? And she said, um, no, you're the underachieving loser who peaked in high school."

"Ouch," Dylan said, no traces of sympathy in his tone.

"I mean, says the girl who gives relationship tips online and calls herself a journalist," Jake said, "but I didn't dare talk back to her. I just apologized profusely and begged her not to give us a bad review on TripAdvisor."

"Oh, do you mean something like this?" Dylan held up his phone and pointed. The most recent review they received came with one star and the title "overrated." "The bartender had no idea what he was doing. He was clumsy and showed a clear lack of experience," Dylan read. He lifted his head. "Enlighten me...did she mean behind the stick or in bed?"

Jake groaned. "Oh shit. I'm sorry." While working part-time at the bar was something recreational for him, it was practically Dylan's life. He cared very much about the reviews and personally responded to every one of them.

"Seriously, man. You're charismatic and people like you, but remember we have a reputation here, so please, please be smart and don't fuck everyone."

"I know."

"How many times did I tell you not to sleep with the customers? You can flirt with them, that's part of the job, but you have to be slightly unavailable to hold their interest. We want them to keep coming back and bring in the money."

"But why would I want to flirt with them if I don't eventually get to sleep with them?" Jake muttered, realizing he hadn't matured a day since he hit puberty.

"Because you want a large tip and a good review," Dylan deadpanned, not missing a beat. "And you want to make me happy."

"Yes, boss," Jake said. "I do want to make you happy." It felt like not too long ago when he was Dylan's personal mentor, sharing with him all that he knew of girls and sex, but now Dylan had become so responsible with the bar and his two kids, Jake found himself turning to him for advice and guidance instead.

Maybe Katelyn was right. He was an underachieving loser who peaked in high school.

"For the billionth time, not boss. Partner," Dylan corrected, before he went on to give more boss talk. "Don't neglect your male customers. Get them to bring friends here, or introduce first timers to regulars. Make everyone feel like this is a big happy family and they'll keep coming back."

"I know, I'll do that. Look, Dill, I'm sorry about the review."

"Never mind." Dylan's expression changed, and a familiar smirk came over his face. "Was it worth it, though? She was hot."

Jake grinned. Not because he enjoyed talking about Katelyn, but this reminded him of high school. He missed hanging out by the lockers with Dylan and Sean, he missed lunch period, he missed basketball games where he was always the hero to save the day, but mostly he missed the privilege of being reckless and stupid. He was 27 now, still young, but sometimes it felt like the number of mistakes behind him were catching up with the opportunities in front of him.

The door opened. Two of their coworkers, Alesha and Mark, came in to prepare for the evening. Jake listened as Dylan went over to ask them if everything was okay. He reminded them to watch out for signs of harassment and stressed to Alesha about wanting her to feel safe working here, and to report to him immediately if anyone dared touch her.

"I know this isn't a church," Dylan said. "This is a bar where people drink and they're not on their best behavior, but it's our responsibility to make sure someone's shitty day doesn't get shittier because they stop by at our place." Then as usual, he finished the pep talk with, "Smoking is strictly prohibited. If anyone wants to smoke here, tell them to take their lung cancers out the door."

Dylan's dad died of lung adenocarcinoma when he was still a kid. Ever since then, the sight of cigarettes drove him crazy.

Jake's back pocket buzzed and he ignored it. It was probably Katelyn texting to call him a loser again. When his phone didn't stop vibrating, he took it out and checked. It was an incoming call from a number he'd never seen before.

His pulse quickened at the realization of what this could mean. An eager chill ran down his spine as he cleared his throat and picked up.

"I'm in town. See you later?"

There was no introduction, no greetings, and no warming up to the question, as if none of these were necessary. As if she knew he'd tell Dylan he had to take leave, that the positive reviews had to wait, because his evening plans would consist of her and her only. Everything could be rescheduled but her.

Jessica was back.

∞

When she'd gone through the customs, Jessica Jiang bought a Tom Ford lipstick. Funny how she couldn't care less about how red her lips were back in Mozambique, a few connecting flights away, but the ad campaigns grabbed her as soon as she landed. She decided she wanted to look good.

Next, she picked up a prepaid phone, called Jake (didn't want to waste time so it was brief), slipped in her house, took a long shower with steaming hot water until her skin was numb with rosy hues, changed into clean underwear and a pale blue chiffon dress, and clipped on a pair of diamond-studded earrings. On second thought, she could use a bit of blush, too, so she sat down at her vanity table and applied it on her cheeks.

After she got off the bus, she walked the two blocks to his apartment. She wasn't too surprised to see him waiting there already, but the sight of him sent a sense of relief through her chest. He sat on the brownstone steps leading up to the entrance. As she approached, he stood up.

She inhaled and let the breath out bit by bit. Jake Lancaster was easily the most gorgeous human being she'd ever seen, and that was including the movie stars and models on screen. This was the first sentence through her head when she saw him. She wondered why she was still fascinated by this fact when they had banged, dated, broken up, and banged a few times more after that. His hair was a bit longer than she remembered, a strand of spun gold falling in his eyes (of course it had to), temporarily shading the aquamarine eyes she often came across in her dreams. She felt a sharp jab in her heart when she realized how long she'd been kept away from him.

Jake strode toward her and stopped when he was half a step away. His gaze swept from her hair down to her feet, went up, and stayed on her face. "Jiang Jiang," he said, using the nickname he came up many years ago by repeating her surname twice. His pronunciation sounded endearing to her ears. There were supposedly four different tones in Mandarin but he couldn't tell the difference, which was why the words floated in mid air, as if uncertain of where they belonged, but Jessica adored the way he said it.

She smiled up at him, even though for some reason she wanted to cry.

"You lost weight," he said.

"Yeah, I suppose I have."

He closed that half step and wrapped her up in a hug. It was a hug full of him. His cologne swallowed her as she recognized the fragrance they picked out together. He smelled wonderful, like a breeze filled with grass and spring scents.

"I miss you," he said. "God, I miss you so much."

He lifted her off the ground by a few inches and she felt weightless like a small bird. When he put her down, she managed with difficulty not to sway on her feet. If meeting him made her so weak already, how much harder would it be when it was time to say goodbye? An invisible hourglass had been flipped and the count down started.

He picked up the duffel bag she brought with her. "Let's go inside first?"

"Sure."

He walked up the stairs, leading the way to his apartment on the second floor.

"Hey, Jake?" She slipped her fingers around his forearm and traced the curve of the muscles there. "I miss you so much, too."

He turned to look at her. Shadows fell over his eyes, but she could still read them. There were traces of tenderness and sadness shimmering, but most of it was love.

∞

Jessica shifted on Jake's bed and found herself a more comfortable position in his embrace. For the past five minutes, all he did was that, holding her body from behind without saying anything. His face was pressed against the back of her neck, and she could hear his controlled breathing. The amber cat he adopted meowed once before disappearing into the bathroom.

When he finally spoke, he asked, "How long are you staying this time?"

"A week."

"Just a week." Jake exhaled. "Will you stay with me the entire time?"

"Yes." She twisted around so that they were facing each other. "Is that okay?"

He nodded. She brushed the fallen strand of hair away from his eyes like her fingers had longed to. After that, she counted the light dust of freckles across the bridge of his nose. Everything was as she left off and she relaxed.

"Did you just come from your house?"

"Yes."

"Were your parents there?"

"Course not. I wouldn't go back there if they were."

"Are you going to keep avoiding them?"

"That's the plan."

"Jess, come on. You're gone for so long without contacting anyone. Talk to them—"

She squinted at him. "Have you been talking to my family?"

"Um, sort of?"

"Jake."

"Alright, I did! I felt so bad about lying to them last time, because you made me promise not to tell them you were with me," he complained. "So after you left and went back to Azerbaijan, I called them to update on what you'd been up to. They were worried sick about you."

"Jeez, let me handle my own parents, will you?"

"But you're not handling them," he said in a quiet voice, like he was afraid of offending her. "I like having you to myself, but shouldn't you spare some time for them?"

"I don't know. My dad won't give up on the idea of having me take over the family business. It's the only thing he wants to talk about but I have zero interest in his luxury hotels. I'm only staying for a week and I don't want to waste it on fighting with him." Jessica sat up and propped a pillow against her spine. Leaning back, she closed her eyes and sank in the softness. "Frankly, being at home gives me such a weird sense of reverse culture shock. I just came back from a place where...not everyone gets access to clean water and decent toilets, but my parents will be stressing over what to wear to one of those stupid charity events. You know, the kind where people go so they can dress up and splurge on wine."

"Don't resent them because they're rich," Jake said. "Maybe some people are there for the wrong reasons, but at least the events themselves are for a good cause. Beats not doing anything at all."

"Yeah, but why not donate to the organizations directly?" She shook her head. "It's more about feeling good about themselves than anything else. I know some people who do overseas volunteer work because they think they get to travel, learn a new language and it looks nice on their resumes, but when you think about it, what's the point of flying down to a village in Kenya, stay for two weeks and help paint a house? You might as well stay home and help paint your own garage."

"Do you mean it's not sustainable?"

"Exactly. Like you can go to adoption agencies to take care of orphan newborns for one day, and then maybe brag about it, but what about the rest of the 364 days?"

Building a school was easier compared to improving education. Setting up a temporary medical clinic was relatively simple, but to establish a long-term plan to recruit qualified health care providers wasn't.

Jessica had bottled-up opinions on unpopular topics like voluntourism and poverty, and if she wasn't careful she'd get carried away, which was why she never dwelled on humanitarian aids with strangers. It made people uncomfortable.

But Jake was no stranger, and he was her exit. On recollection, the prime years of her life were made up of plane rides and custom stamps and vaccinations and places less often mentioned—ten weeks in Sierra Leone, twelve weeks in Bangladesh, nine months in Burkina Faso, two years in Azerbaijan, a short period back on US soil where she worked as an NGO coordinator and a volunteer at an animal shelter, another year back in Azerbaijan and this recent trip to Mozambique—and then there was him. Her life was comprised of a dozen bizarre adventures and one charming boy.

With an embrace that was always warm and a smile forever positive, he was her haven. Lying in his tastefully-decorated room (thanks to his interior designer mom) where sunlight fell non-intrusively through the open window, she was allowed to unwind and forget about changing the world. Nothing needed to be changed here. Jake would welcome her entire stay, hold her and listen to her stories with admiration and compassion, and when he left for work in the morning, she'd sometimes stay in bed all day, play with his cat, draw, listen to music, and wait for him to come back. She would let herself be taken care of.

"Hey, few people can compare to you," Jake said now. "I'm so proud of you."

"I'm just doing something I'm passionate about. How are you? How's Jaylan?" She smiled. "Tell me everything."

"A customer suggested it," he explained when he noticed her smiling at the name of his bar. "I was drunk and for some reason I thought it was funny. Dylan was even drunker when he agreed."

"I love it."

He smiled. "Yeah, the name grew on me. I'm doing fine, I guess. I'm still helping out at my dad's company...it's a tiny one, as you know, but we're expanding. We only had five employees last year. Do you know how many we have right now?"

She shook her head.

"Six," Jake said proudly.

"Impressive! That's a twenty percent increase."

"I know, right? My official title now is CEO/president, and even though I do nothing important all day, it sure sounds sexy."

"Absolutely. You can't ask for a sexier position."

"I don't know..." He let his sentence trial off and smirked. "Cowgirl is pretty good, too."

She liked how he could openly express his pride in her one second, like she was some savior of the world, and the next second he'd start saying something dirty like she was the same Jessica he first met at 18.

"So I have a regular nine to five job," he continued, "but on the weekends I work at Jaylan."

"Do you have to? I mean, you own the place. You don't have to personally get behind the stick."

"Yeah, Dill doesn't do that anymore. He just comes in and checks on things, and he leaves early sometimes to spend time with his family. But he gets to do that because he's had years of bartending experience before he bought the place. I don't. I want to immerse myself and learn everything firsthand before I sit back."

She nodded. "That's tough, though. You don't catch a break at all."

"It's only temporary and I feel like I'm still young enough to work late nights." He stopped, catching her eyes. "Hey, you know what? I'm doing this because I remember how your dad used to make you work front desk and clean hotel rooms. I'm impressed with his mindset."

"You sure are fond of my dad and his ways."

"He's a brilliant man. He actually gave me a lot of advice on running my tiny company."

"That's nice. I'm glad someone appreciates his advice, because I don't."

Jake frowned, but his tone remained soft. "Jess, give your dad a break. You can't go months without seeing your family."

"How often do you see yours?"

"Every month," he said. She hadn't expected him to come back with anything to support his argument and was taken aback, even though she knew his family was close. "They're coming to Jaylan to see me in a few days. I didn't know you'd be here, though. I can reschedule...unless you want to join us?"

"Sure."

"Really?"

"Why not? Your parents are lovely people. Am I going to see Dill too?"

"Yes, and he's going to cook us something. You know he's been helping his mom with dinner since high school, right? He's gotten really good. It's nothing extravagant...he kind of just throws in whatever he can find in the fridge that day, but our customers love how we don't have a menu. We call it Dill's Special of the Day."

"Sounds fantastic, I can't wait to try!"

Jake's cheekbones looked perfect under the light, she noticed. He seemed to be grinning a lot when he talked to her. "A couple of people, Sean and I included, were invited back to Riverside High a while ago. We were expected to give a speech on entrepreneurship and business management. Sean was certainly qualified, but I had no idea what I was doing there. I was a bit nervous about what the students were going to ask me, because I had no words of wisdom to share, but turns out—"

"They just want to know if you're single."

His eyes widened. "Exactly! And when Sean said, I'm engaged to the cheerleader I was dating when I studied here, they went crazy. I think that's the only thing they learned that day...that there's a slim chance you might end up with the person you're currently dating."

"That is an inspiring take home message," Jessica agreed. "I can't believe they got engaged. Not that I can't imagine it because I totally did, but still, wow. Makes me feel all tingly inside, especially when I think of all those years when they weren't together. Sean was such a wreck that night in India, I'll never forget it."

"Yeah, he can be annoyingly chatty when he's wasted, right? Too bad you weren't here for the proposal party. That was mad fun."

Jessica diverted her gaze to the patterns on the bed sheet. "I wasn't here for a lot of things," she said after a pause.

As if noticing her mood shift, Jake reached out to touch her face, his fingers lingering only a second. "We can drive up to see them if you want."

"I'd rather not. I saw Flora when they were in LA."

"That was over a year ago."

She stared up at the ceiling and with her eyes, she traced the outline of the single light bulb wrapped in wire. "Flora was having the time of her life throwing birthday bashes for celebrities. She showed up in a Valentino dress at the animal shelter I was volunteering at and had no idea where to put down the Hermès bag Sean bought her. I kept calculating in my head how many vials of antibiotics that added up to."

"You don't want to hang out with them anymore because they're successful? Sean's a thousand times more accomplished than I am but that never bothers me. We still play video games all night at his place like how we were as teenagers."He was instantly defensive, and she found his loyalty adorable.

"Oh no, don't get me wrong, I love them both. They work harder than anyone I know and they deserve it," she said. "It's more like, I don't know how to feel around them. I notice the things Flora wears because they're gorgeous. I'd love to have a Kelly bag, too, but I can't because it makes me feel guilty. A part of me want her life and I'm jealous of her, but I simultaneously hate myself for getting tempted. Being with Flora is like a drilling question of 'what if' and 'look what you had to give up.'"

And then there was this other thing. Some people would tone down their happiness in front of other people, out of consideration, but not Flora. When Flora was happy, she said it like it was, and even though Jessica adored her for her honesty and candor, it made it especially difficult to listen to her gush about how in love she was with Sean and all the small and big things he did for her.

That was the part of Flora's life that Jessica was most jealous about, the part she couldn't admit to Jake. She could live without the designer clothes and the lavish apartment, but waking up in the arms of her own perfect guy had become a blurry fantasy she didn't dare revisit. Because you could ask a guy to move to LA with you, but it was entirely different to ask him to follow you to the poorest parts of the world without medical aids, handle severe weather conditions, endure extreme stress, leave his family and friends behind, and basically put his life on hold.

Come on, Jake couldn't even survive without WiFi. How would he cope every morning when he sat on the toilet if he didn't have those funny cat videos on YouTube to distract him?

Could you even ask him to put his life on hold here, in the US, while he waited for you to come back? Did you even have the rights to ask him to stay faithful?

Jessica knew she didn't. So every time she came back and dialed his phone, she prayed he'd still pick up and welcome her, all while mentally prepping herself for the worst. One of these days, he'd told her that this had to stop. That he was ready to settle down. That he was in a relationship now, with a "normal" girl with a "normal" job who would discuss with him the color they should paint the baby room.

Jake moved closer to bring her in his arms. "Jess, you're...it must be hard. I mean, I used to think it's challenging to be out of the country by yourself, but I guess it isn't any easier being back home."

She gave a silent nod and leaned in deeper into his hug. "The more I've seen, the harder it is to simply...enjoy things."

"I want to do something for you," he said. "What can I do for you?"

She savored the warmth from his body and the smell of his cologne. His cat padded out from the bathroom and curled up beside them on the bed. She'd been feeling so tired, so incredibly tired, until now, when she was finally allowed to rest in his arms. She was a meteor floating in outer space but had now landed in peace.

"Jay-Jay," she murmured with her eyes closed. "You're already doing it."