Page 116 of Forever Yours
Somewhere inside, the kittens must be running amok, and I picture Knox walking through the door, arms full of groceries, smiling like he always does when he spots me.
Four days left.
And I already know it won’t be nearly enough.
Two days later, the smell of roasted garlic hits before we even make it up Millie’s steps.
Knox balances two bottles of wine in one hand and the kittens’ carrier in the other. “You sure they wanted us to bring dessertandfur brats?”
“Millie insisted,” I say, pushing the door open. “Something about ‘every dinner being better with chaos.’”
He chuckles, low and warm. “Sounds about right.”
As we step inside, we’re swallowed by warm ambiance—jazz playing from a CD player, mismatched candles flickering across the table, and the smell of lemon and butter so rich, it practically hugs me.
“Look who decided to grace us with their presence!” Millie announces, emerging from the kitchen with a dish towel over her shoulder. Margo and Elena trail behind her, each armed with a dish large enough to feed a small army.
“We come bearing wine, kittens…” Knox says, holding up two bottles of rosé.
“And dessert,” I add, showcasing the homemade apple cobbler Knox and I prepared together.
“Wonderful.” Margo gleams. “Wine, kittens, and carbs. My three love languages.”
They usher us toward the table, voices overlapping, and for a second, it feels like family.
We eat until we can’t move. Elena tells stories about her ex who tried to impress her by deep-frying a turkey in his apartment. Millie rolls her eyes at every word, and Knox keepsrefilling her wine just to see how many times she’ll say “Oh, good heavens.”
He looks completely at ease, one arm resting behind my chair, his laugh blending into theirs.
I catch myself watching him more than anything. He leans back in his chair, sleeves pushed to his elbows, laughter creasing the corners of his eyes. When his gaze slides to mine mid-conversation, my pulse stutters.
It hits me. How easily I fit beside him. And how much it’s going to hurt to leave this version of us.
“So…Cami,” Margo says suddenly, jolting me back. “Are you ready for New York? Your big-girl job?”
Forcing a small smile, I nod. “Yeah. Saturday.”
“Ugh,” Elena groans. “We were just starting to like you.”
Knox looks over, gaze teasing. “Same.”
Millie waves her fork. “Nonsense. We liked her from the start. Anyone who keeps our plants alive and doesn’t clog any drains, earns permanent residency.”
“Or at least visitation rights,” Margo adds. “You two figured out what’s next? Gonna make this thing between you official? Weekend meet-ups?”
Knox chuckles under his breath. “Something like that.”
Elena leans forward. “And what about you, Knox? Offloading the penthouse?”
He nods once. “That’s my plan. I’ll head back to New York a few days after Cami leaves, get it listed, and”—he pauses, glancing toward me—“start renovations on the house next door come spring.”
Millie perks up. “Renovations? Ooh, that means you’ll be back again every summer?”
Knox smiles. “Or more often than that. I’m planning to slow down a bit anyway. Focus on my main business, hand off some accounts, do a little mentoring before I step back.”
Margo lifts her glass. “Look at you, early retirement energy.”
“More like peace and quiet energy,” he says, laughing softly.
