Chapter 222
Iris
There are moments in life where everything just clicks. Like the universe finally pauses its chaos to give you a second to breathe. Tonight was one of those moments.
Roman’s fingers were tangled with mine as we walked back from the lake, his thumb tracing lazy circles on my palm. The air smelled like pine and fresh dew, and my cheeks still tingled from the way he'd kissed me earlier—like I was made of stars and he was ready to worship constellations.
We had just finished dancing under the lights when Roman looked at me with a mischievous glint in his eye.
“Want to do something incredibly stupid?” he asked, lips twitching.
“Define stupid,” I said cautiously. With Roman, that could mean anything from skinny dipping to stealing a beta’s motorcycle.
He grinned. “Come on.”
He led me by the hand, and instead of heading back to the packhouse like I assumed, we veered toward the hill that overlooked the entire territory. I groaned.
“Roman, do I look like I’m dressed for hiking up a hill in wedges?”
“You look like a goddess who can do anything,” he said smoothly. “Besides, I brought backup.”
He held up a pair of muddy sneakers he’d apparently been hiding behind a tree.
I blinked. “You… pre-planned shoe sabotage?”
“Calculated romance,” he corrected proudly.
I burst out laughing and took the sneakers. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Yet you still picked me,” he teased, leading the way.
The hill wasn’t as bad as I’d expected, although halfway up I stopped, panting dramatically and falling to the grass like I was dying.
“Roman,” I wheezed, “go on without me. Tell my story.”
He rolled his eyes and crouched beside me, lifting me effortlessly into his arms.
“This is why I work out,” he muttered, carrying me bridal style like I weighed nothing.
“I’d complain, but honestly this is kind of romantic,” I said, looping my arms around his neck. “And your biceps are really working for me right now.”
His chest rumbled with a laugh. “Are you flirting with me while I carry your lazy butt up a hill?”
“Technically, I’m appreciating you. It’s a subtle art.”
When we reached the top, I gasped—not because of the view, though that was breathtaking too—but because Roman had set up another surprise. A second blanket, a small cooler, and a battery-powered projector sat ready. The stars stretched endlessly above, and below, the glow of the packhouse shimmered like fireflies.
“You’re seriously trying to ruin all other men for me, huh?”
“That’s the plan,” he said, kissing the top of my head. “Now sit. Eat. Watch bad movies with me.”
I kicked off the muddy sneakers, flopped onto the blanket, and opened the cooler. “Oh my goddess. Are those fries?”
“Not just fries,” he said proudly. “They’re extra crispy truffle fries from that fancy diner you love but always pretend is too expensive.”
I stared at him. “You… remembered that?”
“I remember everything about you, Iris. Even the fact that you like your fries slightly burnt.”
My heart did this weird fluttery thing, and I had to look away for a second to gather myself. Roman had always been intense—but this softer side, the one who planned dates and remembered weird fry preferences, was melting me like butter in sunlight.
We munched on fries and drank sparkling juice straight from the bottle like two overgrown children. Roman had chosen a terrible romantic comedy to project—one of those films where everyone falls in love after five minutes and nobody has a real job.
Halfway through, I snorted.
“What?” he asked.
“The heroine just quit her job, broke up with her fiancé, and moved to a random Italian village because a goat winked at her. That’s not romantic. That’s a mental health crisis.”
Roman cracked up, mouth full of fries. “Maybe she just believes in destiny.”
“She also believed the goat was her soulmate.”
“To be fair, I’d probably believe anything if a goat winked at me too.”
We were both giggling like idiots when a bug flew directly into my hair.
“Oh my—Roman get it out! It’s nesting!” I yelped, flailing.
He leaned over with exaggerated calmness and plucked the insect from my curls. “You okay there, nature queen?”
I scowled, fixing my hair. “You try keeping your dignity while being assaulted by a winged demon.”
He just laughed, his dimples on full display. “Even your panicked screeching is adorable.”
I rolled my eyes, but inside, I was a puddle. No one else made me feel like this—like the world could end, and it wouldn’t matter as long as he was beside me.
As the movie credits rolled, Roman grew quiet. He lay back on the blanket, hands behind his head, staring at the sky. I followed suit, resting my head on his shoulder.
“Do you ever think about what we’d be doing if we hadn’t met the way we did?” I asked softly.
He turned his head toward me, eyes thoughtful. “Honestly? No. Because every version of my life without you feels… wrong.”
My throat tightened, and I pressed a kiss to his shoulder.
“I used to think I had to be strong alone,” I admitted. “That letting someone in made me weak. But you’ve never made me feel like I had to be anything more or less than myself.”
Roman’s fingers found mine again, squeezing gently.
“That’s because loving you doesn’t require changing you. I fell for the storm and the sunshine in you, Iris. The stubbornness. The sarcasm. Even your creepy obsession with true crime podcasts.”
I laughed. “Hey! I need to know how to hide a body just in case.”
He kissed my cheek. “Noted. Remind me to never cross you.”
Silence settled over us again, but it was the good kind—the comfortable kind that came when two people didn’t need words.
“Roman?” I whispered after a moment.
“Yeah?”
“When we build that house of ours someday... can we have a secret library with one of those bookshelves that turns into a hidden door?”
He grinned. “Babe, we can have two. And a rooftop garden. And a bathtub big enough to swim laps in.”
“I don’t even swim.”
“Well, learn.”
We both burst out laughing, and then he leaned in and kissed me again. It was slower this time, deeper. The kind of kiss that promises more tomorrows. My fingers tangled in his hair, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded.
When we finally pulled apart, our foreheads pressed together, he whispered, “Let’s make a habit of this.”
“The dates?”
“No. Making each other feel this damn lucky.”
I smiled so hard it hurt. “Deal.”
And as the stars blinked above us, and the remains of stolen fries lay forgotten beside the projector, I realized something simple and profound:
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