The hotel room wasn’t fancy, but it was warm. A little sunlit bubble tucked between the lives you came from and the one you were building now. The suitcase was still half-unpacked near the closet, your wedding clothes wrinkled in the corner, and Cove was sprawled on the bed in an oversized shirt, his hair still damp from a quick shower. He looked so at ease, limbs tangled in the sheets, like he’d finally let himself breathe.

“You think they’re gonna be mad?” you asked, flopping down beside him, your head landing near his chest. Sunset Bird hadn't changed much—same quiet breeze, same sleepy waves, same golden hour lighting that made everything look a little softer. But everything felt different now, because you were back... married.

He snorted softly. “No. Just disappointed.” Cliff and both your moms insisted you take a room at either home.

You glanced up at him with a grin, and he was already looking at you—eyes sleepy, but still full of that quiet, steady affection he’d always had for you. The kind that made your chest ache in the best way.

“We couldn’t pick sides,” he shrugged, pulling the comforter over the both of you. “So we made our own.”

“Neutral territory,” you said, nudging your nose against his shoulder. “Diplomatic.”

“Romantic,” he corrected, leaning in to kiss your temple. “I get you all to myself.”

There was a beat of silence after that, the kind that felt soft and golden, like the light pouring in through the window. His fingers laced through yours without needing to ask. “I still can’t believe we’re married,” he whispered.

You turned toward him, your forehead brushing his. “Feels the same.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “But also better.”

His thumb rubbed gentle circles against the back of your hand. The hum of traffic outside, the ocean not too far away, the ghost of laughter from the hallway—it all faded out under the sound of your breathing syncing together. It wasn’t a castle or a house by the sea. But it was enough. Because it was yours. Together.