Chapter 40
Jamie woke to warm skin, tangled sheets, and the slow, steady rhythm of Blake’s breathing against his neck.
He didn’t move for a while.
He just… existed there.
Wrapped in Blake’s arms, legs knotted together, sunlight spilling through the windows like it had nowhere better to be.
“Morning,” Blake murmured, still half-asleep, voice gravel and velvet.
Jamie smiled. “You always wake up this warm?”
Blake kissed his shoulder. “Only when you’re in my bed.”
They showered together, which really meant kissing under hot water, soap getting forgotten on hips and backs and lips. Blake pressed Jamie against the wall and whispered things that made his knees weak.
There was more gasping. More touching. And a shared toothbrush incident that ended in laughter and a second rinse.
They found a café around the corner – tiny, with blue-tiled floors, flakey almond croissants, and coffee that made Jamie moan a little too loudly on the first sip.
“You okay over there?” Blake teased, buttering toast.
Jamie grinned. “I’m having a religious experience.”
They sat close, legs brushing under the table, sharing bites, smiling into each other’s cups. Blake stole jam with his finger. Jamie licked it off. The barista rolled her eyes with a secret smile.
London unfolded before them like a story.
They wandered through Camden Market, tried on sunglasses they didn’t buy, and got matching temporary tattoos of a tiny star.
They rode the London Eye – Jamie pretending to be unimpressed, Blake pretending not to watch Jamie more than the view.
They walked along the Thames, fed ducks in Hyde Park, visited the Tate Modern, and made out for a few scandalous minutes in the reading corner of a quiet museum gift shop.
They bought postcards they didn’t plan to mail, drank too-sweet lemonade from a street stand, and debated whether Big Ben had always looked that dramatic.
“You’re ridiculous,” Jamie laughed when Blake insisted the bell tower had ‘main character energy.’
“You’re in love with me,” Blake countered, grinning.
Jamie didn’t deny it.
Dinner was at a cozy Greek restaurant with fairy lights and music playing low through hidden speakers. They sat across from each other, sharing plates of grilled halloumi, lamb skewers, tzatziki, warm pita, and roasted eggplant.
“I had the best day,” Jamie said, tearing a piece of bread. “Like… top-tier. Movie-level.”
Blake sipped his wine. “Even with all the walking?”
“Even with the tourist traps and you trying to feed me a suspicious olive.”
Blake leaned closer. “Let’s do more days like this.”
Jamie looked up. “Yeah?”
Blake nodded. “You. Me. Life. But real. No filters. No performance. Just us.”
Jamie’s chest filled with something golden and slow and entirely, helplessly in love.
“I’m in.”
They clinked glasses.
And smiled like the rest of the world could wait.