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)
He stands and kisses me, his arms coming around and holding me. I never want to leave this man’s arms again. He just does that to me. Consumes and I’ll happily let him for the rest of our lives.
Under resounding applause, he tilts to place a kiss on the shell of my ear, and then whispers, “And if you need stitches, I’ll make sure you get taken care of.”
I whack him. “You better.”
I hadn’t thought about the ring until he opens the box, and says, “I hope you love it.”
The delicate platinum band is modern and classic. I couldn’t have dreamed of a more gorgeous diamond than the radiant cut. “You don’t have to hope. I do. I love it so much.”
His smile easily competes with the carats. He slips it on my finger, and then says, “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Staring at the brilliance of the diamond sparkling under the lights, I look back at him. Finding that forever more engaging. Engaging . . . I giggle. I’m engaged. “Guess I’m a fiancée now.”
“You sure are.” His hand lowers to my ass. “But don’t worry, I plan to wife you up as soon as you’ll let me.”
Music drifts into the large space as a string quartet plays Vivaldi as they enter from the back room. Everyone turns their attention to them and then takes their places as previously instructed prior to the event. Except of course, Tealey and Rad, the bride and groom.
Holding my hand, Jackson says, “Perfect timing.”
“The band?”
“No.” He kisses my hand and the finger that now wears his ring. “Us.”
Never happier, I lean my head on his shoulder, and for the first time, I feel content in what the future holds. “I have to agree.”
Epilogue
Jackson
Two Months Later . . .
“I did something,” I confess, whispering from fear. Maybe it’s also the hour, just past midnight. Or maybe because I know I should have talked to my wife beforehand. We’d just gotten back from an extended honeymoon in the Maldives when the opportunity presented itself.
Call me weak, but I couldn’t resist. She was a thing of beauty, and I couldn’t pass up the chance to have her. But Marlow’s going to kill me. We said no secrets. She’s my wife and I should have talked to her first. That would have been the right thing to do.
It’s too late.
I did it.
Now I must face the consequences of my actions.
Marlow doesn’t move a millimeter and I can’t hear her breathing either. I nudge her. “Are you awake?”
“I am now,” she snarks.
“Why didn’t you say anything then?”
She shuffles onto her side to face me. “Sorry, I guess my husband making a confession in the dead of night that starts with ‘I did something’ kind of freaks me out.”
I chuckle and slip down the mattress, rolling to my side to face her. “Sorry.” Laughter aside, I gulp, and just tell her, ripping it off like a Band-Aid. “I bought a house.”
“What?” Her body bolts upright, and she looks down on me. “What do you mean, you bought a house, Jackson?”
I’m debating if I should stay lying down tucked under the covers or sit up and face the wrath of Marlow. I stay under the covers. “It’s a good investment and a good transition—”
“Transition to what?”
“Transition into the next stage in life.”
“Jackson,” she huffs and falls back on the mattress. “You make it sound like we’re heading into retirement when I just turned thirty, like three weeks ago.”
“Right, but we’ve talked about kids, for instance. Where would they go? Sure, they can have the office, but then where will we go? I know you don’t want me at the office all the time, so I need a place to work at home. You need a place where you can get stuff done without always being at the gallery.”
I know I’m about to get a barrage of reasons for why this is a terrible idea and how I should’ve never done this without asking. And she’d be right on all of those rationales. But she’s for the here and now, our present life. I am planning for our future.
Before she has a chance to say anything, I continue, “I know you like this apartment, and we haven’t even lived here that long together, but—”
“I just moved from the other one, and now you want me to move to a new place. When do we get to settle?”
“That’s what I’m trying to do. That’s what this place will be for us. It’s a place with six bedrooms, an open kitchen, nice living room space, and a game room or it could be a screening room for your dad’s films. And wait till you see the primary bathroom.”
“What if I hate the bathroom?”
“Then we remodel. I don’t care if we tear it all out. I know you’re going to love this place if you just keep an open mind.” I hear her taking a deep breath, a sign I’ve learned that this means she’s not giving in. But she is giving me a chance. And that’s all I need.