Snow drifts were piling up outside Second Chance when Roscoe and I paused under the yellow awning and waved at Shy through the window. Shy waved back, motioning me inside.

      I popped my head in.

      “Here for your girl?” they asked, just as Summer came out from behind a stuffed bookcase.

      In a leaf-green sweater and her great-grandmother’s pink coat, crowned with the leaves I had painted over the arched door that led to the secret garden, she was a shot of summertime. 

      It was a shame that I’d spent weeks surrounded by romance novel and never picked up a single one, because I needed help to describe the feeling that shot through me at the sight of her. 

      A punch would be putting it mildly—and probably more clumsily than a romance novelist would have—but it was apt enough, because even after months since getting back together with her I still felt like I’d gotten a good knock on the head every time I saw her.

      In that fading winter afternoon, her smile was as bright as if she carried her own personal sun with her, and it grew even brighter when she spotted me.

      “Hi,” she said, coming over to brush a kiss on my lips.

      Clearing my throat didn’t prevent my voice from coming out raspy. “Hey, June.”

      “You just missed Cynthia,” Summer said after she’d petted Roscoe hello. She grabbed her purse from a nearby table and slung it over her shoulder. “We were having matchas with Shy.”

      “And plotting,” I added. 

      “And plotting,” she agreed. “The launch for her next book is going to be epic.”

      “I’m just happy there is a next book.” 

      We said goodbye to Shy, and I opened the door for her, putting an arm around her shoulder as we met the bracingly cold air. 

      “Karina called Meilin this morning,” Summer informed me as she snuggled into my side. “She decided that the paperwork to bring Roscoe to the UK is too much of a hassle to take on with her and Preston’s travel schedule and the renovations and all.”

      “So we get to keep him?” I asked, slowing down to kiss her temple.

      “We get to keep him,” she said happily. “Meilin said Karina already posted herself crying about having to make the hardest decision of her life.”

      “How do you think she actually feels about it?”

      Summer was quiet for a moment. “I have no doubt that she does feel bad about it. But not bad enough to make the effort to keep Roscoe in her life.”

      Karina had tried all her usual strategies to make Summer come around after Summer had cut her off. When flowers and baked goods hadn’t worked, Karina had moved on to invites to expensive resorts and designer accessories that Summer had returned unopened. I didn’t tell Summer, but I thought that leaving Roscoe with us was probably the first non-selfish thing Karina had ever done. In the seven months since she’d first dropped off Roscoe with Summer, she hadn’t tried to see him even once. 

      As soon as we got to the apartment, Roscoe padded straight to his bed in the living room, worn out from the extra long walk I’d taken him on. Summer and I headed to the bedroom, where we had work to do.

      I’d come over plenty of times to the apartment when it had belonged to her abuela, and I loved seeing how Summer and Meilin had made it their own. The pink couch, the table in the dining room that was always set with colorful dishware, the gallery wall that now featured the portrait of Roscoe that I’d painted as a gift for Summer.

      I’d moved in a couple of weeks before, keeping my loft to use as our workplace and painting studio. Summer had immediately asked me for another gift—a mural in our bedroom.

      I’d pushed the bed into the middle of the space, jamming a couple of my unpacked boxes into the corner, and we had painted the entire room a soft butter yellow as a base. 

      We changed into our painting clothes—well, my painting clothes, since Summer was wearing one of my T-shirts—and I opened some paints as Summer clambered up on the ladder to continue filling in the foliage at the top of the wall.

      I reached up to steady her, gripping her thighs. She let out a small sound at my touch. I loosened my hold on one of her legs to draw the back of my hand over her silky skin, making sure to hold her securely with my other hand.

      She cast a flirtatious glance over her shoulder. “I thought you wanted to get this mural finished.”

      “I want you more.”

      I pressed a kiss to the back of her knee, dragging my mouth higher until it met the hem of her T-shirt. All she wore underneath was a pair of panties, the soft cotton ones with lacy edges that made me hard every time I saw them. She’d climbed up just high enough to put them at face height, and I was too distracted by the panties to realize she’d done it on purpose until she arched her back slightly, just enough for me to get what she wanted.

      I hadn’t always been in the best place to give Summer what she wanted. Now, though?

      Wrapping my left hand more securely around her thigh, I nibbled at the curve of her ass. The deep, slow sigh she let out when I started lowering the waistband of her panties went straight to my stiffening cock. It twitched inside my sweatpants, brushing up against the worn fabric as I carefully helped Summer step out of her panties. 

      They had barely fallen to the floor and I was already licking at her slick seam. She gasped in earnest at the first teasing glide of my tongue against her overheated skin, but it was nothing compared to the sounds she let out when I feathered my middle finger over her clit. It was the lightest brush of skin over hot, wet flesh, just enough to make her knees loosen…and nowhere near enough to give her the friction she needed.

      Her grunt of frustration made me laugh against her thigh. She glanced over her shoulder at me again, only this time she was glaring. “Lucas…”

      I gave her a remorseless shrug. “You know you like it, August.”

      Without relinquishing my grip on her, I helped her plant her feet wider on the rungs of the ladder to give me better access to her dripping slit. My left hand still cupping the front of her thigh, I used my right one to trace a path along her seam before spreading her even wider. And then I licked into her, hard and greedy, like someone who’d been deprived of air for three years and had just been given another shot of oxygen. Another shot at life. 

      I lapped up every drop, every shuddered breath, every sound that escaped past her sweet lips. I wanted it all.

      I was ready for her when her knees gave out. Bracing myself to support her weight as soon as she began to sag against me, I wrapped my arms around her and carried her over to the bed. She took off the T-shirt as soon as I set her down, and laid back on her yellow striped sheets like she was posing for a portrait, her shining gold hair spread out over the embroidered pillows. 

      I started to climb on the mattress, and she stopped me with a foot on my chest, looking mischievous. “I want to see how good you really are at following orders.”

      I kissed the arch of her foot, then dropped another kiss on the inside of her ankle, ready to continue my trail all the way back to the dampness between her legs. My dick was throbbing inside my paint-splattered sweatpants. Summer’s gaze flicked to it, and she trailed her pointed toes down my chest and abs, just barely skirting my stiff length.

      She smirked at my inability to hold back a strangled sound as the fabric shifted over my swollen head. “I didn’t tell you to do that.”

      I held up both hands. “I thought a little initiative couldn’t hurt. But you’re right, you’re the one who’s in charge. What do you want me to do, August?”

      She pretended to think about it. From the glint of her eyes, though, I was sure that she knew exactly how she was going to torture me. 

      If she stretched, she could just about reach the jar of clean water and the paintbrush I used for detail work, both of which I’d set on the nightstand I’d pushed out of the way. She handed them to me, saying, “Paint me.”

      “You want to be my canvas?” 

      Even in the pale winter light coming through the filmy curtains, her eyes looked brilliant. “Just water.”

      I studied her for a long moment before dipping my brush into the jar and using its tip to trace a clear line just under one of her tightening nipples. She shivered, letting out a puff of breath when I followed the taut line of her stomach all the way to her navel.

      I let her see my own smirk when I said, “You thought you were playing me, but you ended up playing yourself, huh?”

      “I always do.” 

      She gave me a rueful smile, which turned anticipatory when I told her to turn around. 

      Shutting out the world came naturally to me when I painted. Understandable, considering that art was always the thing I retreated into when things around me grew unpleasant. I used to lose myself in Summer, too, in the taste of her skin and the silky texture of her hair as it glided through my fingers.

      After a few months of being with Summer again, though, I’d learned to be more present in the moment. To notice the way the heat blasting from the radiators flushed her skin pink even as falling snow piled up on the fire escape outside our window. To feel the polished wood of my brush as I twirled it between my fingers and considered how I would decorate her when she was already beauty itself.

      I painted flowers down her spine, filling the natural dips of her body with transparent leaves that glistened, then became invisible as they dried in the heat from the radiator. I followed the juicy contours of her ass with thin lines that made her moan and dotted the back of her thighs until it looked like she was wearing shimmery stockings. I would have licked every drop from her creamy skin if she hadn’t turned around when a droplet trickled between her thighs.

      There were red spots high on each of her cheekbones and her nipples were tight little buds. And I was struck again, as I was every day, by how beautiful Summer was. Her face and her body, yeah, but it was mostly her brightness, which competed with the sun filtering through the curtain of snow on the windowpane. Her beauty was in the sweet curves of her smiles and the brilliance of the sparkle in her eyes. 

      It was in the way she told me to take my sweatpants off.

      I climbed off the bed, setting down the paintbrush and jar and making sure she was looking at me before I tugged down my waistband. One of her hands drifted between her legs, the other one trailing over the swells of her bare breast. 

      “What now, June?” I asked softly. “Do you want me to watch you?”

      My cock went even harder at the thought, but she shook her head. “I want you to touch me. Come here.”

      She shifted to the side even though there was plenty of room for me next to her on the mattress. As soon as I was in place, she slung her leg over my hip, positioning herself so that her drenched slit was barely touching the head of my cock. 

      I would have given my entire life to slide into her. 

      “Tease me,” she told me, her lips curling as she saw that the strain in my eyes matched hers. 

      We were both suckers for the torture.

      I couldn’t stifle a groan when I took my cock in my hand and slowly dragged my tip back and forth over her seam, just barely touching her clit. Her hands came around my neck and she pressed our foreheads together so that our gasps mingled as they burst from our mouths. 

      Our bodies were trembling and flushed, and I was sure her heart was racing as swiftly as mine. When we broke, we did it at the same time.

      “Summer,” I ground out at the same time she breathed, “Please.”

      I sank deep inside her, pushing our hips together and rolling us so that she was on top. Still in charge. She took a moment to get her bearings before beginning to move and I think I died and came to life and died again in the space of those few seconds. I’d meant it when I told her that I was never going to be okay again. 

      I held on to her hips and Summer braced herself on my chest and we found our rhythm almost immediately. 

      She opened the eyes that she’d been squeezing closed and smiled down at me, as warm and sunny as the season she was named after. 

      I stroked my thumb in the deep indent of her waist. “No more orders?”

      Summer tossed her head to make her hair flip over her shoulder. “Just one more. Stay still and let me use you.”

      It took every ounce of willpower I had to keep myself from thrusting into her. I clutched her hips, then her thighs, my own thighs trembling with the effort to remain motionless as she slid up and down my shaft, tight and wet around me. I was more than ready when she began clenching around me, the hands she’d braced on my chest curling so that her nails dug into my skin.

      I waited until every ripple had subsided before flipping her onto her side and driving myself into her. It took less than a handful of thrusts for me to follow her over the edge, my hand cupping her breasts and her leg tight around me as she brushed murmured sounds of pleasure into my lips. I could only say one thing.

      “I love you, Summer. Fuck, I love you so much.” 

      Her tongue parted my lips and delved inside my mouth. “Still. Again.”

      “Always.”

      I tucked her into my side, and her contented sigh drifted warmly over my collarbone. A second later, it was followed by a yawn and the deep, even breaths of someone falling into sleep as easily as they’d fallen in love.

      It took us months to finish that mural.

***

      The next day was screen-free Sunday. Her parents and Abuela came over for brunch and our friends dropped by with their analog hobbies. River, who was a chef, had shown an aptitude for putting together interesting scent combinations for Meilin’s candles. Summer had gotten Marcus into junk journaling. 

      Even Arjun had started skipping out on basketball games with Pete and Enrique to come over and learn crocheting from Summer’s abuela, along with Maya and me. What with all the dropped stitches, the potholders he and I had tried to make were impractical—and literally dangerous if you tried to use them on anything really hot—but we were slowly getting better.

      I was pretty sure that Arjun’s interest in crocheting had more to do with a massive crush on Maya than a real interest in learning how to make granny squares, but I didn’t question it. Summer thought he was sweet, and I liked hanging out with him without the other guys around. 

      The four of us still played basketball together every once in a while, even though things had gotten pretty rocky with Enrique after I made it clear that he wouldn’t be welcome around me if he didn’t adjust his attitude toward Summer. I suspected that some part of him had expected me to shift back into the easy-going Lucas I’d always been, too eager to broker peace between everyone around me to ever stand up for myself—or for the love of my life.

      As the months went by, though, he seemed to be coming to a grudging acceptance, no doubt fueled both by my unwavering commitment to holding my ground and by Arjun’s easy inclusion into Summer’s and my shared friends group. 

      The snow was still coming down, but they’d all made the trek to the Heights from their various corners of the city—and New Jersey, in the case of Summer’s family. Her parents had set out a spread worthy of a restaurant buffet. Garrett had taken over the apartment kitchen earlier, producing enough desserts to fill up the dining table, while Juan Luis’s usual Zabar’s run had translated into a coffee table laden with bagels and toppings, all of which were very interesting to the perpetually hungry Roscoe.

      “Poor buddy, my mean daddies refused to share the bagels and lox with you, huh?” Summer scratched behind his ear.

      I disentangled myself from the yarn for long enough to go into the kitchen and fetch a couple of treats from the canister on top of the fridge, making sure to crack the window in advance of the farts we all knew were coming. Catching my eye, Meilin grabbed a few of her handmade candles to shove into the candle warmers we had scattered all around the apartment. 

      I left the kitchen just in time to hear the buzzer go off. Figuring it was Marcus, who told me he’d be late because he was having lunch with his friend Dash, I hit the button and went to open the door.

      It wasn’t Marcus who came around the hall a couple of minutes later, though. It was Enrique.

      Summer had given me her blessing to invite him to a screen-free Sunday and I had, even though I’d seriously doubted he’d showed up. But here he was, holding a box of chocolates that he gruffly said was for Summer.

      I was sure my shock was written all over my face when I let him in. 

      “Hey, man,” he said, giving me an uncertain smile. “I hope it’s okay that I came. Is Summer around?”

      “Um, yeah. Come in.” 

      I showed Enrique to the dining room, where Summer had spread out her journaling supplies, shooting a baffled glance to Arjun when Enrique went directly to Summer.

      “I owe you an apology,” he told her. If I wasn’t hearing it with my own ears, I would’ve never believed him to be capable of the sincerity that was ringing in his voice. “I’ve made a lot of jokes at your expense over the years that were in bad taste. You didn’t deserve that kind of treatment from me.”

      “No, I didn’t,” she said as I went to stand next to her and slid my arm around her waist in a not-so-subtle show of support. “I’ll accept your apology, though. As long as you know that you’re the one who missed out.”

      Enrique’s eyes skipped to Arjun, which made me wonder if he had anything to do with this.

      “I’ve been missing out for years,” Enrique admitted. “I don’t want to miss out anymore.”

      “Well, then, welcome to screen-free Sundays,” Summer said. “Did you bring an analog hobby?”

      “Oh, uh.”

      “Meilin and her boyfriend are making candles in the kitchen if you want to join them,” she suggested sweetly.

      Enrique must have either caught the wicked sparkle in her eye, or he must have remembered Meilin’s fierce protectiveness of her best friend, because he visibly paled. 

      I couldn’t help bursting into a laugh, though Summer took pity on him and told him that he could pick out something to read from her bookcase. She went back to her journal spread in the dining room and I took Enrique’s coat before the melting snow on its shoulders could drip on the carpet. 

      After hanging it up, I went to get myself a bagel from the spread on the coffee table. Enrique was sitting on the couch, an unopened book on his lap. He looked at me as I grabbed a striped plate from the stack on the coffee table and went straight for the chive cream cheese. 

      “I’m really sorry, Lucas. I should have never made you work so hard to keep the peace between Summer and me.”

      “Yeah, you shouldn’t have.”

      He met my eyes. “I know I keep telling you how much our friendship means to you and how much I’ve been there for you over the years. But the truth is that you mean a lot to me, too.” He shifted in his seat. “And I’d rather embarrass myself and admit this than lose you as a friend, but I think I probably got a little too used to being the only one you could go to when things with your family got rough. It made me feel needed.”

      I passed him the loaded bagel. “Ever thought about volunteering?”

      He raised an eyebrow, looking at me to see if I was being sarcastic. I meant it, though, and after a few moments, he dipped his head into a nod. 

      “Yeah, maybe,” he said. 

      “I can hook you up with an organization that teaches coding to underprivileged kids,” I said, catching the flicker of interest in his eyes. “I’ll text you the info later.”

      I left him to the bagel and the book he’d picked out and headed back into the dining room, where Arjun and Summer’s abuela were still practicing his granny squares. A couple of chairs away, Summer had gone back to working on her journal. I leaned over the low back of the upholstered chair, wrapping both my arms around her shoulders.

      “You okay?” I asked quietly.

      “Yeah. I’m happy you and Enrique are working things out.”

      She was quiet for a few seconds, and I hoped I was correctly interpreting her silence when I said, “And you wish you and Karina could, too?”

      She nodded, and I tightened my arms around her. “Maybe someday,” she said. “For now, I’m keeping my boundaries where they are.”

      Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, I dropped into the seat next to hers. “Could I make something for your journal?”

      “Sure,” she replied, eyeing me curiously as I found a scrap of plain paper and a brush marker.

      So carefully I was almost painting the words, I lettered a quote into the scrap and passed it to her. “You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to.”

      She looked down at it, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Actually, I know exactly where this should go.”

      Flipping to the first spread of the journal, she used her tape roller to affix the scrap to the center of the right page before tearing off a piece of washi tape printed with green leaves and adding it to the composition. 

      Then her hand closed around mine and she pulled me in for a sweet, slow kiss. Literally sweet—I licked a speck of powdered sugar from her bottom lip, left over from the shortbread her dad had made.

      Much later, after everyone had gone home and Meilin and River had curled up on the couch with Roscoe, Summer and I would drift into our bedroom. We’d fall asleep with our arms around each other, my nose buried in her hair and its fragrance permeating my dreams.

      Tomorrow morning, after we walked Roscoe and stopped at Summer’s favorite cafe, she would smile at me over her matcha and almond croissant and open her journal to the quote I had lettered for her.

      “In the midst of winter, I found, within me, an invincible Summer.”

      And we’d both know it was true.