Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 88456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.
“I’m carrying you over the threshold,” he declares, kicking open the door with his foot. I can’t help but laugh as he takes a step into his house. “Welcome home, Zoey.”
Eighteen
Nash
Her laughter as I carry her over the threshold goes from my chest to my stomach, and then straight to my dick. I kick the door closed with my foot as we stand in the foyer. “Um, Nash?” She looks up at me. “Our bags are still outside.”
“I’ll get them after I give you a tour, and you can settle in.” I lean down to kiss her lips.
“Are you going to carry me for the whole tour?” she asks.
“If you want,” I answer her without even caring. If she wants me to carry her through the house for the tour, then that is what I will do.
“I think I’m good to walk.”
“Fine,” I pout, reluctant to let her out of my arms but making a mental note to carry her to the bedroom, even if it’s over my shoulder or on my back. I make sure she has her balance before I let her go. “This is the foyer,” I tell her, and her eyebrows rise at the square staircase in the middle of the open-concept house. “That’s the formal living room.” I point at the room on my right-hand side. “And the dining room.”
“Do you even use these rooms?” she asks as she steps into the living room, looking around and stopping when she spots a mirrored frame on one of the coffee tables. “Wait.” She walks over and picks it up. “How did you do this?” She looks at the picture of her right before she walked down the aisle. She’s looking at the camera with her hip cocked to the side, one hand on her hip and the other hand by her side, holding the bouquet. She looks sexy as fuck but also fucking beautiful.
“The photographer emailed me the link for the pictures,” I tell her, “and I got a couple to put around the house so you would feel sort of at home.” She puts the frame down. “Since you’ll be in every room.”
“That’s very sweet, Nash.” She walks over to me and gets on her tippy-toes. “I would also very much like to see the pictures of our wedding.”
“I’ll send you the link after,” I tell her, slipping my hand in hers. “Now, come so I can show you the rest of the house.” I pull her toward the stairs. “This is the mudroom.” I point at the little room on my left-hand side, and she looks up at the hanging ceiling light that shows you the railing for upstairs.
“I love how open this is,” she states, turning but never letting go of my hand.
“Good,” I say as I continue walking. “Now this is the kitchen, obviously.” I point to the right where there is a huge gray marble island right in front of a U-shaped kitchen. “That must be your gift.” I point at the white box on the island next to what is a replica of her bouquet when we got married.
She lets my hand go to walk over to the island. “Is this from that day?” She points at the vase of flowers, and I shake my head.
“No, but I remembered so—”
“Can I open the gift?” she asks, her eyes lighting up even more. I see she likes gifts. I make another mental note. “It’s big.”
“Not as big as my dick, though.” I point at her, making her laugh. “Don’t forget that.”
“How could you ever let me forget that,” she deadpans, pulling the white ribbon off the white box. She lays it flat on the counter before she pulls the top off and moves the tissue paper off the frame that is in the box. “Nash,” she whispers, “this is…” She looks into the box, her finger trailing over the glass. Inside is a frame I had made with three hearts in the middle of it. Under each heart is a different saying and the date of when the event happened. The first heart is the day we met and the location we met, with the word “Hello.” The second heart says “Will You?” And the third has “I Do.”
“It’s a map of our story. A controversial one, but a map nonetheless,” I explain, and she turns to look at me. I see she has tears in her eyes that she’s ferociously blinking away. “I wanted you to put it where you wanted to.”
“This is…” She looks down at the frame in the box. “I can’t believe,” she says and then laughs, “the Will You and the I Do have the same date and almost the same location.”
“Yeah, the man who did it messaged me twice to make sure I didn’t fuck it up. I was going to put it up on the wall.” I point at the wall we just walked past that faces the staircase. “That way, everyone sees it when they walk in. We can put family pictures around it, but it’ll be like the wall's foundation. Sort of like our family tree.”