Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“I doubted myself for so long that I’d overlooked what was right in front of me. I’ve been on my own for years. My salary could pay the rent. Maybe not where I lived, but in plenty of other parts of the city. Bills, sure. I would’ve learned to live on a budget, but isn’t that a good life skill to have?”
“Absolutely.”
“But it wasn’t any of those things that brought me back. It was you,” she says. “I never understood unconditional love until you loved me. It wasn’t the flowers or heart-shaped candy boxes that I’ve been showered with over the years. It’s not anything we can buy. It’s just the little things—you brushing your teeth next to me, working at night while I worked in the living room, giving up half your closet space.” With our arms wrapped around each other, the emotions she’s feeling fall through tears down her cheeks. “I miss our routine, but I miss us even more.” She leans back, feeling safe in my arms, and says, “How do we move forward?”
“One step at a time.”
“What if we forget the rules altogether.” She laughs. “We’ve never been good about following them anyway.”
“Let’s do us the best way we know how and dive right into the deep end.”
“I’ve been thinking . . . what if we pick up where we left off on that balcony on New Year’s?”
“Now’s a good time.” I pull her into my arms and kiss her, dipping her for no other reason than she deserves the big gesture.
Breathless, she hangs in my arms, and says, “The best kiss ever. Do you think you can top it?” I accept the challenge and kiss her because as entertaining as the banter always was between us, kissing her is five times better.
This time I swing her back up when our lips part but hold on to her as her knees regain their strength. “How was that?”
“Spectacular.” Not sure what catches her eyes, but she sighs in annoyance. “Dammit.” She slips out of my hold and into the kitchen. “I had it all planned and blew it.”
“What is it?”
Straightening her hair, she plasters on a grin, and asks, “Are you hungry?”
I take the bait. “Famished.” My soul is starving to be reunited with hers again, but that feels a little heavy-handed for whatever she’s trying to do, so I stay quiet and watch.
“I didn’t want to break from tradition when it comes to my apologies.” She grabs a bag and hands it to me. Her showing up at my door with those damn chips and queso wasn’t so long ago, but it’s incredible how much things have changed, including us. “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
“For staying gone so long. For letting you walk away without telling you that I do want to have kids, but only if they’re with you, no matter the size of your head.” A smile cracks her cheeks wide open.
I touch the top of my head. “What’s wrong with the size of my head?”
“Nothing.” She shrugs in a poor attempt to throw me off the scent. “Natalie just mentioned your mom had to get extra stitches. That’s all.”
My mouth falls open, though I’m not really offended. It’s just fun to mess with her. “I guess I should be grateful that you’re willing to birth my pumpkin head kids then.”
Laughing, she nods enthusiastically. “And just off the top of my head—”
“More head jokes, huh?”
“No more jokes about the size of your head.” She quirks an eyebrow, but her expression softens again. “I’m sorry for not telling you I love you every morning, noon, and night with texts and calls. So here’s some chips and queso as an apology.”
“You don’t have to apologize.” I grin, taking the bag from her and peeking inside. “Why are the chips crushed?”
“I thought I’d save the wall the trouble by smashing them myself, just the way you like it.”
I start laughing, the feeling as pure as the sound, a good release as if I haven’t tasted freedom in years. But as much as I want to get caught up in her again, all up in her, I need to bring it up. “I hoped you’d come back to me, but I can’t say I didn’t lose hope sometimes.”
She caresses my face. “We all do, but please let me help you regain that faith. Do you trust me?”
“Baby, I trust you more than anyone, including myself. If I could spend every day showing you just how much faith I have in us, I would. But I can’t be selfish with you. Your dad still needs you.”
Her eyes dip closed briefly, but then she looks up and smiles. “My dad claims that scotch and good cigars led to his health issues. He’s on the road to recovery after getting the pacemaker and has a team of medical professionals hovering over him around the clock. He even has my mom visiting.