Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
“Pizza is great,” I assure him, marveling at how at ease I’m feeling in his kitchen right now. As Dax pulls down some paper plates and I nab bottled water from the fridge, I start a mental shopping list for a grocery run I’ll make tomorrow.
Dax serves up gooey slices of New York-style pizza, and we sit side by side at the island. He nods toward several plastic bags of varying sizes. “There’s a bunch of gift certificates in those bags for you. Target, Bed Bath and Beyond. Stuff like that. I want you to go out and get whatever you need to make your room your own. Decorate it, buy a fluffy comforter… whatever. I want this to be a real home to you.”
I freeze with a pizza slice halfway to my mouth, a sudden rush of prickles causing my eyelids to flutter against what I think might be a huge wave of tears. When I don’t respond, Dax’s head swivels. His eyes are expectant before they fill with concern.
“What’s wrong?” he asks suddenly.
I shake my head, still frozen in place and staring at him over the pizza in my hand. I’m vaguely aware of a dollop of melted cheese falling to my plate. Tears start to cloud my vision. Before Dax turns totally blurry, I see awareness in his expression as he starts shaking his head adamantly.
“Don’t,” he orders with authority, setting his pizza down. I start blinking the wetness away when he growls, “Don’t start fucking crying on me, Regan. I can’t handle it.”
“I won’t,” I mutter hoarsely, dropping my gaze and my slice of pizza to the plate. A tear drops on the back of my hand.
“Fuck,” Dax rumbles. The next thing I know, his arm is hooked around me and he’s dragging me off my stool into his embrace. He wraps me up in a huge bear hug, coming off his stool and squeezing tightly. I feel his mouth on my head when he murmurs, “I know things are really hard on you right now, and I’ve made things even worse by dragging you here. I’m sorry, but this is the right thing to do.”
“I’m not upset about that,” I say into his chest, then pull my head away so I can look up at him. “Honestly… I’m okay with that. It’s just… you telling me you want this to feel like a home got to me. I didn’t think “home” was a real concept right now. Not with Lance dead.”
“You have a home here with me,” he assure me. “You’re safe, and you’re not alone.”
It’s a powerful statement. Coupled with the fact we’re supposedly going to hit up the courthouse tomorrow to get married, it strikes me a little more personally than it should.
Luckily, he tempers that by saying, “You have to know, my parents would do the same. So would Willow if she ever stayed still long enough to have a home, and, of course, Meredith would be over the moon if you wanted to stay with her. The whole Monahan family is here for you, Regan, if you let us.”
And I know that’s true. Deep in my gut, I know there isn’t a single Monahan who wouldn’t dig deep to help me pay for my treatment or welcome me into their family as if I belonged. Dax’s mom and dad, Linda and Calvin, came to Lance’s funeral, and while they didn’t know my secret, they offered their home up if I wanted to just get away from things for a while. Linda had said, “Come home with us. Let me baby you for a while.”
I take in a sharp breath, willing the tears to recede, and damn… why does Dax have to smell so good?
Pushing out of his embrace, I rub my hands over my face. “Sorry. Just… stop being so damn nice, and I won’t cry. Okay?”
Dax chuckles, accepting my admonishment as a way to cover up my embarrassment over being a baby in front of him. I point at his plate. “Now sit. Eat.”
He winks at me as he does as I say. “You’re going to be one of those bossy, demanding wives, aren’t you?”
“On the contrary, I’m so grateful for what you’re doing, I’ll pretty much just be your slave to do with what you’d like.”
I meant it in jest—perhaps imagining a Cinderella-type thing where I’d be in rags scrubbing the floor. But something flashes in Dax’s eyes, so brief perhaps I didn’t really see it at all, and I immediately think of something a lot different.
Naked bodies, twisted limbs, and me doing something incredibly dirty to Dax to show my gratitude for what he’s doing for me.
I blink hard and pick up my pizza, taking a mouthful so huge it’s a good minute before I’m able to finish chewing so I can swallow. A full minute of silence goes by while Dax continues to eat as well.