Chapter Eight

Steven

I wake up to the warmth of Joy's body pressed against mine, her head resting on my chest, her breath soft and steady. For a second, I don't move. I just lie there, soaking in the moment. It's still early, light barely streaming through the blinds, but I feel like I've never been more awake in my life. Everything feels perfect. I can't remember ever being this happy—this content—and that's saying something for a guy like me, who's spent most of his life looking for the next good thing without ever really finding it.

But this? This right here, with Joy in my arms, wrapped around me like she belongs there? This is it.

I kiss the top of her head and pull her closer, feeling the way her body fits against mine like it's meant to be. She stirs a little, sighing softly, and I can't help but smile. It's been two years of me keeping my distance, two years of trying to talk myself out of wanting her, of telling myself it's wrong because she's my best friend's daughter. But that all feels so far away now. What matters is that she's here, with me, and I've never felt more right about anything in my life.

I lean down and kiss her awake, soft and slow at first, and then a little firmer when I feel her respond. Her lips move against mine, and I swear, it's like I can feel her smile before her eyes even open. She stretches out beside me, blinking herself awake, and I pull back to watch her. Her hair is all messy, and there's this sleepy glow to her face that makes my chest feel tight in the best way. I can't stop grinning.

"Morning, beautiful," I murmur, my fingers brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

She smiles, but then her stomach growls, loud enough to break the peaceful silence. We both start laughing, and I sit up, resting my weight on my elbow as I look down at her.

"Guess that means we're making breakfast," I say.

Joy groans softly and stretches again, wincing just a little. I remember last night, the way she'd told me I was her first, and it hits me again how much that means. The weight of it, the trust she put in me. It's humbling.

"You sore?" I ask, my voice gentle as I run my hand down her arm.

"A little," she admits, a shy smile on her face. "But I'll survive."

I slide out of bed and offer her my hand, pulling her up gently. She's still wrapped in the sheets, her bare skin glowing in the soft morning light, and I can't resist grabbing my shirt from the floor and slipping it over her head. It's big on her, falling almost to her knees, but she looks adorable in it.

"There. Now you're decent," I joke, even though there's not a decent thought in my head right now.

She laughs, and we head downstairs to the kitchen. The air smells like sunshine and her, and I feel this warmth in my chest that I'm not sure I've ever felt before. It's like everything's fallen into place.

The kitchen is still a little messy from last night, the pizza box half open on the counter, but it feels cozy. Familiar. I grab a skillet from the cupboard and start prepping some eggs while Joy digs through the fridge, pulling out bacon and a carton of orange juice.

"Toast or no toast?" she asks, holding up a loaf of bread like it's some grand offering.

"Toast, definitely,"" I say, watching her with a grin. "You know, if you can manage to not burn it." A while ago, she made a Father's Day breakfast for Theo and invited me. The woman is beautiful and smart, but cooking may not be her best strong suit.

She laughs, rolling her eyes. "That was one time."

"One time is all it takes, babe." I tease, cracking an egg into the pan.

She sticks her tongue out at me and drops two slices into the toaster, then sets about pouring us both some juice. I can't help but watch her move around the kitchen—barefoot in my shirt, her hair still a mess from sleep—and it hits me all over again how much I love her. It's this feeling that starts deep in my chest and spreads through me until it's hard to focus on anything else.

We work side by side, talking and laughing like we've been doing this for years. It's easy with her. There's no awkwardness, no weird tension—just us, being ourselves.

At one point, I try to flip the bacon with the spatula, but it slips, sending a piece flying. Joy bursts out laughing, doubling over as I try to catch it midair.

"Good one," she says between giggles.

"Alright, alright," I grin, shaking my head. "That was a fluke. I'm a pro, I swear."

"Sure, you are."

"Hey, you just stick to not burning the toast."

She swats at me playfully, and I grab her wrist, pulling her into me for a quick kiss. I can't help it. Every time I touch her, it's like this electric current runs through me, and I can't get enough.

"You know," I murmur against her lips, "we could skip breakfast and head back upstairs."

Her eyes twinkle, but she shakes her head, stepping back with a smirk. "Nice try. I'm starving, and I've waited long enough for you."

I laugh, holding my hands up in surrender. "Fair enough."

We finish cooking, the smell of bacon and eggs filling the room, and by the time we've got everything plated, my stomach's growling, too. We're about to settle in on the couch, plates balanced in our hands, when there's a sound at the door. A key turning in the lock.

I freeze. Joy freezes. We share this wide-eyed, panicked look just as the door swings open, and there, standing in the doorway, are Theo and Erica.

It's like the world stops.

Theo's face goes from confusion to anger in about half a second, and I feel my stomach drop. He looks from Joy to me, then back to Joy, and I can see the realization hit him.

"Steven," he says, his voice low and dangerous, like a warning before a storm.

I step forward, trying to explain, but he's already storming toward me, eyes blazing. "You son of a—"

"Dad!" Joy jumps in between us before he can reach me, her hands up defensively. "Stop! It's not what you think!"

Theo's fuming, his face red, his hands balled into fists. "Not what I think? Not what I think? My best friend's sleeping with my daughter, and you tell me it's not what I think?"

"It's not like that!" Joy yells back, standing her ground. "You don't understand!"

"I understand enough," he snaps, pointing at me like he's ready to kill me where I stand. "He's been preying on you. My best friend, taking advantage of my daughter."

"Preying?" I finally speak, my voice low but firm. "Theo, you know me better than that. I've loved her for two years. This isn't some fling."

Theo's eyes narrow, and he steps closer, his fists clenched. "Two years? You've been thinking about my daughter for two years? You didn't even tell me? What the hell, Steven?"

"Because I didn't want to hurt you," I say, my voice steady even though my heart's pounding. "I stayed away. I tried to push it down, but I couldn't anymore. This isn't some game to me. I love her. I'm not going anywhere."

"You don't settle down," Theo spits, his anger flaring. "You never have, and I'll be damned if you're going to use my daughter as some kind of—"

"Dad, stop!" Joy shouts, cutting him off. "You have no right to say that. You did the same thing with Erica! She was my best friend, and you're twenty-four years older than her. How is that any different?"

Theo's mouth opens, but nothing comes out. He's caught, and I can see the moment it hits him. His jaw clenches, and he turns away, running a hand over his face. He's still furious, but now he's fighting with himself.

Erica steps forward then, her hand gently touching his arm. "Theo, you need to calm down," she says softly. "I know this is hard for you. But you have to let Joy make her own choices, just like you wanted for us."

Theo looks at her, still bristling, but she holds his gaze. "If they love each other even a fraction of how much we love each other, then you have nothing to worry about."

There's this heavy silence. Theo's breathing hard, still staring at me like he wants to tear me apart, but something's shifted. He's wrestling with it, trying to figure out how to deal with this.

Finally, he exhales, rubbing a hand over his face again. "I don't like it," he grumbles, looking at Joy, then me. "But I'll get over it."

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, and Joy squeezes my hand.

Theo steps toward me, his eyes hard and serious. "But if you hurt my daughter… I'll break your damn legs, Steven."

I meet his stare, unflinching. "I won't hurt her," I say, meaning every word. "I promise you that."

He holds my gaze for a long moment before finally nodding. Then, without missing a beat, he turns and heads toward the kitchen. "I need a beer," he mutters.

He grabs one from the fridge and then pauses, looking at me over his shoulder. His face softens just a little, and he sighs. "You want one?"

I smile, relief flooding through me. "Yeah. I could use one."

And just like that, things smooth over. I know it's not perfect—there's still a lot to talk about—but as I sit down next to Joy, watching Theo crack open a beer, I know one thing for sure.

I've got a long, happy life with this woman in my future.