Page 129 of Fighting With Light

“Baby!! You did it! You won! I’m so proud of you!” she yells, planting kisses all over my cheeks. I hear the cheering in the background and feel her lips on my skin, but it all feels like I’m floating out on the water. I’m not actually here.

I won. I got the title.

“Liam!” Aelia yells, smiling so wide it breaks me out of my trance. I hug her, and spin us around.

“Yeah!” I yell.

47

Aelia

I smile at Liamas he bounces around the shore, shaking hands and taking pictures with fans. Flashes light up his face and I am so proud of him. They present the trophy and I stand off to the side as he smiles with his sponsors. He keeps glancing at me and I want to stay off to the side, out of the way. But then he gestures for me to come over to him and the flashes blind me for a moment as he slides his hand around my waist.

He leans into my ear as the cameras continue to go off and he whispers, “I don’t care who knows. You’re mine for real, and I want to tell the world, princess.”

I smile up at him. He palms my cheek and kisses me for a moment that feels like it will forever stretch in time.

***

Liam drives us back while his phone is going off with texts and phone calls and he just…ignores it.

“Are you going to answer any of that?” I ask him.

He glances at me and back on the road. “Yeah, I will, I just…I want to let it sink in first.”

“Why didn’t your family come down?” I ask him.

He shrugs. “I’m sure they wanted to be here, but…with everything going on, there’s no way Emerson would have been okay with Mom being in a crowd.They’re unpredictable, and the same with Cordelia and Theo, too many unknowns.”

“I’m sorry they couldn’t be here.”

He grabs my hand, kissing the inside of my palm. “I’m just glad you were here.”

Liam pulls into the long driveway and flips the truck off. I start to get out, and he sits there for a second.

“Are you okay?” I ask him.

He nods, giving me a sleepy smile. “Never better, princess.”

“Come on, don’t you want to collect your winnings?” I ask him.

He grins and hops out of the car, chasing me inside. I head for the kitchen, and he turns down the hall to the bedroom. “Hey, wait, you’re supposed to be in here,” he yells from our room.

“For the record, I saidnothingabout a bed, Tarzan,“ I yell and pull everything out of the fridge.

He grunts in response and walks into the kitchen in a fresh pair of board shorts and a long-sleeved shirt.

“I’m going to make you a celebratory dinner,” I tell him, smiling.

He stares at me for a moment. “You cook?”

I purse my lips and cross my arms. “Yeah…I mean, I read the instructions and stuff. I can figure it out, and I amItalian.”

He chuckles. “Just because you’re Italian, doesn’t mean you can cook.”

I purse my lips and glare at him.

“Alright, princess, let’s see what you’ve got.”