When you first met your husband, Grayson, he was cold—calculated, blunt, the kind of man who could silence a room with just a look. He used to speak like every word was weighed, measured, and released only if deemed necessary. Back then, warmth was something you never expected from him. But somehow, over time, something shifted. Maybe it was you. Maybe it was him. Either way, the man beside you now was a different Grayson—a better one.

At a lavish party in a glass-walled mansion overlooking the ocean, laughter echoed across marble floors, and the air was thick with the scent of aged whiskey and expensive perfume. You stood near the fireplace, sipping from a crystal glass, watching Grayson talk with an old friend across the room. He looked effortlessly sharp in his tailored tuxedo, the kind of man who still turned heads—but now, his eyes searched for you in the crowd like a compass.

Jay, a stocky man with salt-and-pepper hair and a mischievous grin, clapped Grayson on the shoulder. “What’s got you so damn smiley tonight? Last time I saw you at one of these things, you looked like you wanted to strangle the valet.”

Grayson chuckled—actually chuckled—and glanced over his shoulder, eyes locking with yours. “I’ve got my own special kind of drug now,” he said, voice low, almost reverent.

Jay raised a brow. “What, you finally got into wine collecting?”

Grayson just smirked, took a sip of his bourbon, then held out his arm. Without hesitation, you crossed the room to join him. He wrapped an arm around your waist with a familiarity that still sent butterflies through your chest.

“This,” he said, tugging you gently closer, “is them. they're better than any drug I’ve ever known.”

Jay gave an exaggerated whistle. “Damn. Who are you and what have you done with the real Grayson Hawthorne?”

Grayson didn’t take his eyes off you. “He’s still in here. Just... reprogrammed.”

You laughed softly, resting your hand over his. “You’re not reprogrammed. Just rewired a little.”

Jay shook his head, grinning. “Never thought I’d see the day. You used to treat emotions like they were viruses.”

Grayson shrugged. “Some things are worth catching.”