Page 122 of Only the Devil

She smiles and yet again that thought comes unbidden… God, I love her.

“You’re stuck with me now. You know that right? Bad heart, terrible patient habits, and all.” I brush a strand of hair from her face. “On the plus side, I’m the king of the grill and I’m told I’m decent in bed.”

She laughs, the sound bright and unguarded. “Decent? I can confirm you’re better than decent.”

“Only better than decent? Darlin’, I’m gonna have to work on that.”

“We’ve got time,” she says, her smile soft now, full of promise. “Good things are coming our way. I feel it. And this morning’s horoscope agrees.”

I pull her close, breathing her in—the steady beat of her heart against mine. Outside, the city hums with life, but right now, it’s just us. And for once, I believe in that horoscope—because I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.

She’s curled against me, already dreaming up the next chapter of our life, whether she knows it or not. Whatever the future brings—new city, new start, maybe even something more—I’m all in.

Bonus Epilogue

One year later

Daisy

* * *

I’m reading my horoscope over morning coffee when Jake emerges from our bedroom, hair sticking up in three different directions and wearing nothing but boxer shorts. He’s gained back the weight he lost after his heart episode, plus a few extra pounds from my newfound love of cooking—or I should say, our newfound love of cooking together. If he’s not home, I revert to my old ways of cereal or takeout.

The cardiologist says his numbers are perfect. The slight softness around his middle just makes him more huggable, but he still works out, often with a trainer. I’ve decided he simply loves physical exertion and the personal challenge.

“Morning, sexy,” he mumbles, dropping a kiss on top of my head before heading to the coffeemaker. We upgraded to a proper machine after I realized we were spending eighty dollars a week at the coffee shop.

“Listen to this,” I say, holding up my phone. “Virgo: New life enters your world this month. Prepare for changes that will bring joy and responsibility in equal measure.”

Jake pauses with his mug halfway to his lips. His green eyes sharpen with that particular look he gets when he's trying to read a situation. “Daisy…”

“What?”

“Are you…?” He sets his coffee down and turns to face me fully. “Should I be asking if you’re pregnant?”

I nearly choke on my coffee. “God, no! Jake, I’m on birth control. And trust me, I’d know.” I wave my phone at him. “It’s just a horoscope. They probably mean, like, a new job opportunity or something.”

The tension leaves his eyes, but there’s something else in his expression now. Something softer. “Would that be such a terrible thing? I mean, hypothetically?”

I study his face, noting the way he’s trying to appear casual while asking something that clearly isn’t casual to him. “Are you asking if I want kids?”

“Maybe.” He leans against the counter, crossing his arms. “Do you?”

The question hangs between us, heavier than anything should at seven-thirty in the morning. We’ve been officially living together for over six months now—after spending the first half of the year doing long-distance the best way we knew how. First in my tiny Chicago apartment, then here in North Carolina, where KOAN established their permanent base. We’ve never talked about kids.

“I…” I set down my mug, thinking. “Yeah. Someday. Not right now—we’re still figuring out the whole living together thing—but someday. What about you?”

“Someday sounds about right.” Jake’s smile is soft, the one he reserves for when we’re being real with each other. “Though I gotta say, the idea of a little girl with your stubbornness and your big brain is pretty appealing.”

“And your height, so she can reach things on high shelves.”

“And my sparkling personality.”

I snort. “You mean your ability to eat an entire pizza and fall asleep on the couch during movie night?”

“That’s a valuable life skill, darlin’.” He moves closer, sliding his arms around my waist. “So, kids someday. What else? The white picket fence? Minivan?”

“I am never driving a minivan.” I still rarely drive, but in North Carolina I find there are times it’s required. I lean into him, inhaling the sleep-warm scent of his skin. “But maybe we should start smaller. Work our way up to tiny humans.”