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Sunshine streams through the restaurant's windows, making the mimosas on our table glow like liquid gold. I run a finger along the condensation on my glass, enjoying the chatter of the busy brunch spot around us. My friends' faces are bright with weekend freedom—and relentless curiosity.

"Okay, spill it," Jazz says, leaning across our corner table, her curls bouncing as she narrows her eyes at me. "You've been dodging my texts all week."

For once, I don't feel the immediate urge to deflect. The weight I've carried for so long—the constant vigilance, the walls I built—feels lighter somehow.

Skye eyes me over her avocado toast, a knowing smirk playing across her perfectly lined lips. "You look different."

"Different how?" I ask, but I already know. I can feel it myself—something's shifted inside me.

Jazz grins, swirling her mimosa with practiced elegance. "Maybe because she finally got laid properly." She raises her glass in a mock toast. "And thank fucking god for that."

I roll my eyes, but I don't argue. The memory of Enzo's hands on my skin sends a pleasant shiver down my spine. But it's not just that. It's not just the sex—though holy hell, the sex is incredible. It's something more fundamental.

"It's not just about getting laid," I say, surprising myself with my honesty. "It's about... I don't know. For once, I'm not running."

My words hang in the air between us. I've spent years perfecting the art of keeping people at a distance, of never letting anyone see beyond the confident exterior. But here I am, laying myself bare to the three women who know me best.

Mikayla watches me carefully, her sweet face thoughtful as she toys with her French toast. Then she asks softly, "You're happy, aren't you?"

The question catches me off guard. Am I happy? Not just satisfied, not just content, but actually happy?

I pause, then nod. "Yeah. I am."

And it's true. The realization washes over me like warm water. I'm happy. With Enzo. With his dogs. With the life we're building in the aftermath of everything we've survived.

"Well, shit," Skye says, but her eyes are warm. "Never thought I'd see the day Kendra Washington would fall for a man with a criminal record."

"Says the woman who married a literal crime boss," I counter, and we all laugh.

"To complicated men," Jazz raises her glass. "May they always be worth the trouble."

We clink glasses, and for the next hour, I tell them everything—well, almost everything. Some parts of what happened with Enzo, with Zenon and Ercole, are still too raw. But I tell them enough. About his dogs. About his books. About the way he looks at me when he thinks I don't notice.

About how I’ve fallen in love with him. Skye is particularly happy and I’m going to have to fend off her pushing for a wedding soon.

When we finally part ways outside the restaurant, their hugs linger a little longer than usual.

"I'm happy for you," Mikayla whispers in my ear. "You deserve this."

I don’t tell her that she deserves the same. But I have a feeling that her happily ever after is around the corner.

When I get home—and it feels like home now, not just Enzo's place where I stay—the afternoon light fills the living room with golden warmth. Enzo is on the couch, Penny at his feet, Paige sprawled over his lap like she weighs ten pounds instead of seventy. He's nursing a tumbler of something amber, his other hand absently stroking Paige's ears.

He barely looks up from his drink as I drop my bag and slide onto the couch beside him. The leather is cool against my bare legs.

"Did you survive brunch?" he asks, voice rumbling low in his chest.

I smirk, stealing his glass and taking a sip. The whiskey burns pleasantly down my throat. "Barely. Jazz thinks you've corrupted me."

"She's not wrong."

"Skye says you're trouble."

"She's definitely not wrong." His lips twitch with amusement.

I shift, resting my head on his shoulder, and he goes still. This is new for us—this casual intimacy without the heat of sex behind it. I feel his chest rise and fall with a deep breath.

After a beat, he sighs, pressing a kiss to my hair. His lips linger there, and I close my eyes, savoring the moment.

"You're a menace," he murmurs against my hair.

I smile, feeling more content than I have in years. "And you love it."

Paige shuffles, her paws digging into Enzo's thigh as she readjusts, and Penny looks up at us with her anxious eyes. This little makeshift family we've created.

And for the first time in my life, I'm exactly where I want to be.