Chapter 163: Paige

Chapter 163: Paige
The sea is quiet tonight.

Not silent, not completely still—but quiet. The kind of quiet that seeps into your bones, into your soul, wrapping around you like the gentlest of whispers. The moon hangs high and heavy over the water, turning the waves into liquid silver as they roll toward the shore. The air is warm and salty, carrying the faintest traces of orange blossoms and eucalyptus.

And from the open window of our bedroom, I can hear Everleigh’s soft, steady breathing in the next room.

She had exhausted herself today—running wild through the fields, riding the ponies at the stable, chasing the butterflies that danced between the flowers. She barely made it through dinner before curling up in Jaxon’s lap, eyes fluttering shut as he ran his fingers through her curls. He had carried her upstairs, whispering softly against her forehead before tucking her into bed.

And now, it’s just us.

Jaxon and me.

Like it’s always been.

I turn from the window, glancing toward the bed where he’s lying on his back, one arm behind his head, the other resting against his stomach. His eyes are half-lidded, lazy, but they don’t leave me—not for a second. The glow from the lantern on the nightstand flickers across his skin, catching in the lines of his jaw, the shadows of his collarbones, the edge of his lips as they twitch into the smallest of smirks.

I know that smirk.

I love that smirk.

“You done staring, princesa?” His voice is low, amused, edged with something else—something warmer.

I roll my eyes, but my lips pull into a smile. “Never.”

His smirk deepens. He shifts slightly, the mattress dipping beneath him. “Come here.”

I don’t hesitate.

I cross the room, climbing onto the bed, and the second I’m close enough, he reaches out—grabbing me by the waist and pulling me onto his lap like I weigh nothing.

A small gasp escapes me, but Jaxon just leans in, his breath hot against my neck, his hands rough and steady on my hips.

“Three years,” he murmurs, lips grazing just below my ear. “Three fucking years, and you still look at me like that.”

“Like what?” I whisper, breath hitching.

He tilts his head back slightly, just enough to meet my eyes.

“Like I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

I smile, my fingers trailing lightly over his jaw. “That’s because you are.”

He goes still.

I feel it—the way his muscles tighten beneath my touch, the way his fingers flex slightly against my skin. His gray eyes darken, but not with lust. With something deeper. Something that makes my heart ache in the best way possible.

Because I know.

I know what’s running through his head right now.

He still doesn’t understand it.

That after everything—the blood, the violence, the past we’ll never be able to erase—I can still look at him like this. I can still love him without hesitation, without fear, without regret.

I lean in, pressing my forehead against his. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Jaxon Steele.”

He exhales, long and slow, his hands sliding up my back, over my spine, until they settle at the nape of my neck. He pulls me in—not roughly, not urgently—just enough so that our lips barely brush.

“You’re gonna kill me, princesa.”

I smile against his lips. “I think you can handle it.”

He chuckles, low and deep, before finally—finally—kissing me.

We don’t leave the bed for a while.

We don’t need to.

The windows are open, the ocean humming softly in the background, the air warm, wrapping around us like a second skin.

I trace lazy patterns across Jaxon’s bare chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. He’s warm beneath my touch, solid, real. I don’t think I’ll ever get over it—the feeling of having him here, like this, every single night.

“Tomorrow’s Everleigh’s birthday,” I murmur, fingers skating across his ribs.

He hums, eyes closed. “Mmhmm.”

I grin, tilting my head to look up at him. “You know what that means, right?”

“Cake.”

I laugh. “Well, yes. But also…” I trail off, waiting for him to piece it together.

Jaxon cracks one eye open, watching me carefully. “…The hot air balloon ride.”

My grin widens. “Yep.”

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “I still don’t understand why we have to do that.”

“Because it’s Everleigh’s birthday wish,” I remind him. “And because she saw a picture of one in a book and now she’s obsessed.”

“She’s also obsessed with eating sand,” Jaxon mutters.

“She’s two,” I laugh. “And come on, Jaxon. It’ll be fun.”

Jaxon doesn’t look convinced.

I smirk, propping myself up on one elbow. “Are you afraid of heights?”

His eyes narrow slightly. “No.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“Paige.”

I burst out laughing, dropping my head onto his chest. His arm comes around me instantly, pulling me closer, tighter.

“I promise,” I say, voice muffled against his skin. “It’ll be amazing.”

Jaxon sighs, but I feel it—the way his lips brush the top of my head, the way his fingers trace slow, soothing circles along my spine.

For a long moment, neither of us says anything.

Then—

“I never thought I’d have this,” Jaxon murmurs.

I blink, lifting my head slightly. “Have what?”

His gray eyes are steady on mine. “This. You. Everleigh. This life.”

My heart tightens.

I reach up, cupping his face, my thumb tracing lightly over his cheek. “Do you regret it?”

His gaze hardens. “Never.”

I swallow against the lump in my throat. “Good.”

He leans in, his lips brushing mine. “But you already knew that, princesa.”

The next morning, we wake up early.

The sun is barely over the horizon when we pull Everleigh out of bed, her sleepy grumbles quickly turning into excited squeals the second she remembers what day it is.

Her birthday.

We dress quickly, throw together a bag of snacks, and then we’re out the door—driving along the coast, through the hills, toward the open field where the hot air balloon is waiting.

Everleigh can barely contain herself. She’s bouncing in her car seat, babbling a mile a minute. I can see Jaxon watching her in the rearview mirror, a small, soft smile pulling at his lips.

When we finally arrive, the balloon is already inflated—a massive, vibrant red and gold sphere against the pale morning sky. Everleigh’s eyes go wide.

“Whoa.”

Jaxon smirks, glancing at me. “I think we just won parents of the year.”

I laugh, grabbing his hand.

We climb into the basket, the heat from the burner warming the air around us. Everleigh clutches onto Jaxon’s leg, but when we start rising, floating, her fear melts into pure wonder.

The view is unreal—the golden cliffs, the endless blue of the Atlantic, the whitewashed villages dotting the coastline.

Everleigh looks up at Jaxon. “Daddy?”

“Yeah, princess?”

She grins, eyes sparkling. “This is the best birthday ever.”

Jaxon chuckles, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

I squeeze his hand, and when he turns to me, my heart swells so much it hurts.

Because I know.

I know this is it.

This is our life.

And it’s perfect.

The end.