Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 72122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
I hadn’t been able to sleep in in over a decade.
The job at the newspaper had practically forced me into being an early riser whether I wanted to be or not.
“That would be our breakfast,” he grinned.
I grabbed the first thing I saw, which happened to be Truth’s t-shirt, and slipped it on over my head before sitting down on the bed and pulling up my discarded covers.
My anger at being interrupted disappeared just as fast as it rose, leaving me wondering what that secret smile was on his face.
What was he smiling about?
The answer came really quickly as he opened the door, smiled at some woman who I hadn’t met the night before and took the tray of food the woman was holding out to him.
She was an older woman with graying brown hair, bright blue eyes, and a sharp intellect that told me she knew exactly what she’d interrupted, and what we’d been doing in here all morning.
“Thank you, Millie,” Truth said to the woman.
The woman smiled at that husband of mine like she knew him, flicked a glance my way, and then left without a word.
“Who was that?” I asked as I threw the covers off and walked toward the door where Truth had placed the tray of food on the entryway table.
“That,” he said, lifting the lid off the plates and tossing them carelessly to the ground in the way only a man could, and waved his hands at the feast before him like he’d made the shit himself.
“Voila!” he said. “Does this make me a better husband yet?”
The way he was smiling at me like he’d just uncovered the Holy Grail had a grin playing at my lips.
“Yeah,” I agreed readily, “it does.”
He winked at me, causing my smile to widen, and brought the huge stack of pancakes to the bed and placed them on the mattress before going back for the syrup.
I bit my lip when he poured it on so thickly that it nearly ran off the plate.
“Holy shit,” I said. “I hope that’s yours and not mine.”
I eyed the plate, waited for it to roll off the edge, but it never did.
It was like he put this much syrup on every time he had pancakes, and knew just the exact amount needed to satisfy him.
“It’s mine,” he said. “Though, I guess if I were a better husband, I would’ve allowed you to use the syrup first.”
I rolled my eyes and decided that since he was in such a good mood, I wanted to ask him something that the ladies and I had discussed last night while we’d driven to Tommy’s parents’ place.
“I want to take engagement pictures,” I broached the subject carefully. Because I knew if I worded this wrong, he would totally say no. Truth was like that with his looks. They were beautiful, and wonderful, and they were all part of the reason he hated his dad—because he looked just like him. Part of the reason he’d had such a shitty childhood.
Something I’d learned over the last few days I’d been living with him.
He didn’t own a freakin’ mirror, and when I’d broached the subject, he’d flat out refused to have one in the house.
When I’d gotten one anyway, he’d hidden it from me.
When I’d gotten a second one, he’d hidden that, too.
A few nights ago, we’d had a knock-down, drag out fight, and he’d finally explained that he didn’t need a mirror to know what he looked like. When I’d asked why, he’d then went on to explain how, in high school, he’d been teased about being ‘pretty’ and over time, he’d learned to just deal.
And by dealing, that meant not doing a damn thing when it came to his appearance. That equaled no mirrors anywhere in the house, and a beard that was unruly if he didn’t go to the barber shop and get it trimmed and corralled back into the beauty that it was at this very second.
Truth’s eyes came to me.
“Why?” he asked suspiciously.
I smiled. “Because, in fifty years, I want to look back at these photos and remember what made them so special.”
“We’re already married,” he pointed out.
I shrugged. “Please?”
I made sure to stick my lip out for added emphasis, and he growled low in his throat.
“Fine.”
I clapped my hands excitedly.
“Oh, goody!” I said. “I know just the person!”
I’d discussed it with Tommy’s mother last night, and she’d told me that there was a photographer who would likely be willing to do it if she asked.
I reached my hands around his neck and pulled him to me, placing my lips gently against his.
He tasted like syrup.
“Thank you, big guy,” I placed one more kiss on his lips. “You’re the greatest.”
***
“So, this wasn’t what I was thinking,” I mumbled darkly.
Truth’s eyes showed mirth, and it took everything I had to hold onto the pissed off look on my face.