Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Not that the idea of lifelong commitment was completely out of the blue since we had a child together, and the man professed his love for me daily—but it still made my heart flutter.
And I was not a heart fluttering kind of woman. Especially when it came to things like marriage. I was sure I was immune to society's obsession with marriage and women’s determination to celebrate the ‘big day.’
Turned out I was just like everyone else.
All it took was a sexy daredevil with our daughter’s name tattooed on his chest—right beside his ‘Yes, Chef’ tattoo—and her sleeping in his arms to make me feel it.
“In my mind, you’re mine forever, in every kind of way,” he continued. “So I already consider you my wife. And I won’t take anyone talkin’ badly about her. Even you.” His eyes narrowed. “Especially you. Not gonna hear you talkin’ shit about the best mother I know.” He looked down at the dark head of hair nestled in his arms. Everything about him became kinder, more patient, liquifying when he touched his eyes to our baby.
Another heart flutter. A really big one.
“Our daughter is going to have the best example of what she can do with her life. How she can define herself. Watchin’ you care for her, navigating this time in our life, has only made me love you in ways I never thought possible. I watched you bring her into this world, no fuckin’ drugs, all grit and willpower.” He smiled. “My warrior, Chef. But, Chef, cooking is who you are too. I’d never dream of takin’ that away from you, of makin’ you feel like you’re defined by one thing. Actually, this is kismet. Go look on the counter.” He craned his head in that direction.
I frowned, kind of because I was trying to fight the onslaught of tears, but also because I didn’t know where he was going with this.
Though I didn’t want to leave the warmth of Kane’s body or the scent of our sleeping baby, I was curious.
I got up, picking up the manilla envelope off the counter that I hadn’t noticed till then. Granted, our house was organized chaos, and I barely noticed that I was walking around with my boob still hanging out an hour after feeding Mabel; a manilla envelope could easily get lost in the fray.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Open it and find out.” He stood, expertly depositing sleeping Mabel into the bassinet we kept in the living room. Magically, she stayed asleep.
“I don’t like surprises,” I told him, my heart hammering in my chest.
“Well, I’m never gonna beat knockin’ on this door and findin’ my woman eight months pregnant, so you can live with that one,” he teased.
There was no resentment in his tone. I knew Kane wished he had been there from the start, but he’d long since let go of any anger he had toward me about the whole pregnancy thing. Regardless, I still hadn’t let go of the guilt.
My fingers tore open the envelope, then I retrieved the stack of papers, bleary eyes scanning over them. “What is this?”
“It’s a purchase agreement,” he said. “I know people tend to do leases, but I like it here, like the thought of raisin’ our daughter here. And I believe that this is a forever kinda thing. Although if the location doesn’t work, we’ll either sell it or turn it into something else and find you something that does work.”
I blinked rapidly. “Work for what?”
“Your restaurant,” he replied as if it were obvious. As if I’d regularly spoken about opening a restaurant as opposed to the few offhand comments I made before Mabel, therefore, another lifetime ago.
“My restaurant?” I repeated.
“Yes, Chef.” His eyes danced with joy.
I looked from the papers to Kane then back down again, focusing on the address. It took a second to compute, but if I wasn’t mistaken, it was an old boathouse on the wharf that I’d always looked at dreamily.
“Needs some work,” Kane shrugged, as if he were reading my mind. “Rowan and Kip start Monday, if you agree, that is. Also got an architect on standby so you can tell them what you want, and they can make it happen.”
Palm over my mouth, I tried to process everything that Kane was saying.
“Did I fuck up?” His easy grin had dimmed. “The location not fancy enough? I just saw it when we were out walkin’ with Mabel, and I felt like it was you. But—”
I held my hand up to silence him. It was shaking. “It’s perfect,” I whispered.
“I know you’re not the kind of woman who likes to let go of control.” He put his hands on my hips. “And me takin’ charge and makin’ a big decision like this for you could be considered as a toxic male move. But you’re the boss here, Chef. I’ll willingly submit to you, stay at home and take care of our daughter, while you go and bring home the bacon.”