Page 173 of Bitter When He Begs

He shrugs. “He scares the shit out of me. But yeah. I get it.”

We drive in silence for a while longer before I speak, my voice barely there, “I think this might be it for me.”

Luca doesn’t look away from the road. He just squeezes my hand. “You’ve been it for me since the moment you said my name, Sunshine. Glad you’re catching up.”

I swat his arm, but right there I realize I don’t have to be scared of how real this is. Because the two people who know me best in the world just met. And they didn’t clash, they clicked.

“Why do you call me Sunshine, by the way?” I ask, finally, because I need to break the tension before my chest bursts open.

Luca grins, eyes still on the road. “Felt appropriate. First, it was supposed to be sarcastic, but then you walked into my storm and lit everything up. Sorry, you’re stuck with it now.”

I smile. “Sappy.”

“Fuck off. I’m trying to be romantic.”

“You’re succeeding. Unfortunately.”

Luca grins, eyes back on the road. “So when are we telling Aspen we’re moving in together next semester?”

I choke on air. “We are?”

He gives me a look. “You sleep at my place more than the frat. Your closet is already thirty percent mine. And Eli already made a chore wheel, which we’re ignoring.”

“God, we’re gonna be disgusting,” I mutter, but I’m smiling, warmth blooming low in my chest.

“We already are,” he says smugly. “Might as well make it official.”

There were moments I thought I’d never be good at this—loving someone out loud. That maybe I’d spend my whole life second-guessing the way I take up space in someone else’s world.

But Luca never made me feel like I had to shrink or soften or explain myself. He just showed up, loud and unapologetic,demanding space in mine. And somewhere along the way, he taught me it’s okay to demand space in his, too.

And the thing is… I want that. I want all of it. The fights over laundry, the late-night drive-thru runs, the shared grocery lists and toothbrushes and the quiet knowledge that someone is waiting for me at the end of the day. I want a future with him—messy and real and completely ours.

Later, Luca falls asleep next to me, one arm draped across my stomach, his breathing slow and even. I lie there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, realizing this is it. Not the end, not some dramatic fade to black. Just the beginning of something steady, something earned. Something that’ll hold.

I shift closer and press my face into his neck, his skin warm against mine.

“I love you,” I whisper into the space between us.

He doesn’t stir, not really, but I feel his arm tighten around me like he heard it anyway.

And maybe that’s what this is—love that doesn’t need to shout. Love that stays.

Yeah.

This feels like forever.