Chapter 86

When they finally peel themselves off the bed, it’s slow and reluctant—like leaving a warm pocket of safety they didn’t realize they’d been starving for.

Naomi stretches dramatically as she slides off the mattress, arms over her head, a soft groan escaping her. “Okay,” she sighs, half-laughing. “Five minutes turned into, like… emotional nap time.”

Rowan laughs, shaking her head as she follows her toward the door. “You’re such a baby.”

Naomi glances back over her shoulder, eyes sparkling. “Your baby.”

Rowan pauses for half a beat, then smiles despite herself. “Yeah. I walked into that one.”

Celeste snorts and gives Naomi a gentle nudge toward the hallway. “Come on. Before Simone assumes we eloped or something.”

Naomi gasps. “Without a destination wedding? Absolutely not.”

They head back down the hall together, still close, shoulders brushing, fingers grazing now and then without anyone acknowledging it. It feels natural—easy. Like their bodies already understand the shape of each other.

The living room looks exactly the same as when they left it—Simone stretched out on one end of the couch, one leg draped over the armrest, Lila sitting cross-legged on the floor near the coffee table, absentmindedly spinning a coaster between her fingers. Half-empty water glasses and snack wrappers litter the table, evidence of time passing without urgency.

Simone looks up the moment they enter. Her eyes narrow immediately.

“…Why do you all look so suspiciously peaceful?”

Naomi drops dramatically onto the couch, sprawling like she owns it, one arm flung across the cushions. “Because we just solved world peace in the bedroom.”

Lila blinks slowly. “Should I be concerned?”

Rowan laughs and sits beside Naomi, their thighs brushing. “No treaties were signed. Just… emotional maintenance.”

Celeste leans against the arm of the couch, arms loosely folded, her gaze moving between the three of them like she’s quietly taking inventory of the room. “We’re good,” she says simply.

Simone tilts her head, studying their faces more closely. “You’re not just good. You’re really good.”

Naomi smirks, turning her head toward Rowan and resting it briefly against her shoulder. “Don’t get jealous.”

“Oh, I’m absolutely jealous,” Simone deadpans. “We went in there expecting maybe five minutes and you ghosted us like a bad date.”

Lila grins. “We almost started a second round of mimosas out of spite.”

Naomi’s head pops up instantly. “Rude. Without me?”

Simone laughs. “You snooze, you lose.”

Rowan nudges Naomi’s knee lightly with her own. “See what happens when you abandon your friends?”

Naomi clutches her chest dramatically. “I did not abandon anyone. I was emotionally regenerating.”

Celeste shakes her head, amused. “You’re ridiculous.”

Naomi beams up at her. “You love it.”

Celeste doesn’t deny it. She just smiles, softer now, and reaches out to brush Naomi’s hair back from her face in a small, absent gesture.

The room settles into an easy rhythm again—soft teasing, overlapping laughter, the kind of comfort that only comes after tension has been aired out instead of swallowed. No one feels rushed. No one feels on edge.

Naomi looks around the room—at Simone and Lila relaxed and teasing, at Rowan leaning comfortably beside her, at Celeste grounded and present—and something warm swells in her chest.

“Okay,” she says finally, sinking deeper into the couch and stretching her legs out. “What did we miss while we were saving the universe?”

Simone grins. “Absolutely nothing.”

Lila smiles softly. “Which is kind of the best part.”

The calm lingers for another beat before Naomi lets out a long, exaggerated sigh.

“Okay,” she says, voice softer now, edges finally dulled by the day. “I’m tired. And hungry. And if I don’t eat soon, I’m going to start being dramatic on purpose.”

Simone snorts. “You say that like you haven’t been dramatic all day.”

Naomi ignores her completely and shifts without asking, smoothly sliding down the couch until her head lands in Rowan’s lap like it’s always belonged there. She hums in immediate approval, cheek settling against Rowan’s thigh.

“Oh yeah,” Naomi murmurs. “This is correct.”

Rowan laughs quietly, instinctively lifting a hand to Naomi’s hair. Her fingers sink in gently, slow and soothing, combing through it in lazy strokes. “You didn’t even ask.”

Naomi closes her eyes. “I didn’t need to. My body made an executive decision.”

Celeste watches for half a second, then Naomi’s feet are suddenly nudged into her lap. Naomi lets out a pleased little sound and stretches like a cat, ankles crossing as Celeste automatically rests a hand over them.

“Well,” Celeste says dryly, “guess I’m part of the furniture now.”

Naomi grins without opening her eyes. “My favorite furniture.”

Rowan keeps playing with Naomi’s hair, scratching lightly at her scalp, slow enough to make Naomi melt. “You good?” she asks quietly.

Naomi nods, eyes still closed. “I’m good. Just… running on empty.” She peeks up at Rowan for a second. “But the good kind of empty. Like after a long day where everything finally settles.”

Celeste squeezes her ankle gently. “You want real food or delivery food?”

“Real delivery food,” Naomi replies immediately. “Something warm. Something comforting. Something that feels like a hug.”

Simone laughs. “So carbs.”

“Yes,” Naomi says firmly. “Violent amounts of carbs.”

Lila stands, already grabbing her phone. “I’ll order. Any requests from the human headrest and footrest?”

Naomi smiles lazily, eyes drifting shut again as Rowan’s fingers continue their slow rhythm. “Surprise me. I trust you with my life.”

Rowan chuckles, glancing down at her. “You’re really not moving again, are you?”

Naomi shifts just enough to snuggle deeper into Rowan’s lap, one hand resting lightly on Rowan’s knee. “Nope. I live here now.”

Celeste shakes her head, amused, but her thumb starts tracing absent patterns over Naomi’s socked foot anyway. “You look peaceful.”

Naomi exhales, content. “That’s because I am.”

The mood stays loose and warm, the kind that only comes after everything heavy has already been said—and survived.

Celeste shifts slightly, Naomi’s feet still resting in her lap, and without thinking too much about it, she starts rubbing slow, deliberate circles into the arches. Her thumbs press just firm enough to make Naomi sigh, toes curling instinctively.

“Oh wow,” Naomi murmurs, eyes fluttering shut. “See? This is why you’re my favorite.”

Celeste chuckles under her breath. “You say that to everyone.”

“No,” Naomi counters lazily, cracking one eye open. “Just to the ones who earn it.”

Rowan’s fingers keep moving through Naomi’s hair, gentle and unhurried, combing through the strands like she’s memorizing the feel of them. Every now and then her nails graze Naomi’s scalp just right, and Naomi visibly melts deeper into her lap, shoulders softening, mouth curving into a small, content smile.

Simone reappears from the kitchen holding two shot glasses, handing one to Rowan and one to Celeste. “Hydration comes later,” she announces. “This is emotional support tequila.”

Rowan laughs, accepting the glass. Celeste clinks hers lightly against it, and they both knock the shots back.

Naomi opens her eyes just in time to catch Rowan leaning forward to set her glass down. Their eyes meet—Naomi’s unfocused but affectionate, Rowan’s warm and steady.

Naomi smiles up at her, voice quiet but certain. “You’re really pretty, you know that?”

Rowan pauses, clearly caught off guard for half a second, then smiles—soft, real. “Thank you,” she says. “So are you.”

Naomi’s gaze drifts to Celeste for a beat, then back to Rowan, clearly pleased. “See?” she says, grinning. “Best of both worlds.”

Rowan arches a brow. “How’s that?”

Naomi gestures vaguely between them. “I’ve got daddy Celeste,” she says, nodding toward the woman still rubbing her feet, “and mami Rowan.” She studies them both like she’s admiring art. “You two look like something out of a magazine. Ridiculously hot.”

Celeste lets out a low laugh. Rowan shakes her head, amused. “You are feeling that tequila.”

“Deeply,” Naomi agrees.

Rowan’s hand pauses in Naomi’s hair just long enough for her to lean down. She cups Naomi’s cheek gently, thumb brushing along her jaw, and kisses her—slow, unhurried, affectionate rather than rushed. Naomi hums into it, instinctively lifting her chin to meet her, one hand coming up to rest lightly against Rowan’s wrist like she’s anchoring herself there.

The kiss lingers just a moment longer than necessary before Rowan pulls back, forehead resting briefly against Naomi’s.

Naomi smiles, eyes still half-lidded. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “That.”

Then she turns her head toward Simone and Lila, smile turning playful. “Just so you know—I’m taking these two down tonight.”

Simone bursts out laughing. “Got it.”

Lila lifts her glass in salute. “We’ll be in the farthest room possible. Soundproof thoughts only.”

Naomi hums contentedly and closes her eyes again, settling fully into Rowan’s lap as Rowan’s fingers resume their slow rhythm and Celeste’s hands keep working warmth into her feet.