Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
“I never—”
“Let me finish, dammit,” I growl. She mimes locking her lips and throwing away the key. “I love you, Juniper Winkley. More than I ever thought I could love anybody in my life. Enough to believe love isn’t just this cruel obsession that wrecks a person the minute it’s snatched away. We’re here to love on borrowed time because that makes it so precious. And I don’t want to waste another minute without knowing you’ll be my wife. So, sweetheart, will you marry me?”
Breathless seconds crawl by as her hands shake over her mouth. She licks her lips.
“Of course,” she whispers. The tears spill over her cheeks as her voice gets louder. “You know I will, Dexter Rory. Don’t pretend you’re clueless.”
“Don’t give a damn what you call me. As long as you’re mine.”
I take the ring and slide it on her waiting finger, staring like a man admiring a work of art.
Just like before, it fits perfectly.
It looks like it belongs, never meant for anyone else.
“Oh my God. I missed it so much.” She gives out then, falling forward into my arms.
“I’m going to assume you mean ‘I love you’ and it’s not just the ring you’re excited about.”
“I love you, you lunk!” She giggles, catching my face and pulling it closer to hers. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”
When we kiss, it’s not the usual fireworks.
They’re still there, of course, just as intense as ever. I still want her more than I can breathe.
Only, in this moment with the ring’s coolness pressed against my cheek as she holds me, kissing her feels like coming home.
Like I could kiss this woman for the rest of my days and always find a new thrill on my tongue.
Her mouth curves under mine in an unending smile.
“I was starting to think you’d never ask,” she whispers. “I thought maybe you wanted to take things slow.”
“We did. We gave it four whole months after the fiasco. Practically half a year together, altogether. You remember how fast I proposed the first time?”
Grinning, she pulls away so I can see her roll her eyes. “The first time doesn’t count, Dex. It was business. This is the first and only time that matters, I think.”
“You need to stop talking, Sweet Stuff.” I kiss her again, sliding my hand into those gorgeous red curls. I know every inch of her, but I’ll never want to stop exploring. “This may be the only real proposal, but I’m glad as hell they were both with you.”
“Holy shit, are you kidding? They followed us?” She looks up abruptly, over my shoulder.
Behind me, there’s a frantic squeal.
I groan.
My mother, by the sounds of it, and I’d wager that second shriek behind her is probably Jo Winkley ripping her vocal cords.
“Did you plan this part too?” Junie breaks away with a reluctant smile.
“Everything except the screaming,” I tell her. “I asked them to keep it low-key.”
“You did it!” Mother flings her arms around my neck the second she catches up to us, smothering me in too much hair and perfume and cheek kisses. “Oh, Dexter! Oh, my baby boy, I’m so happy for you…”
At least I’m not alone.
When I look up, Junie’s nana holds her like she’s trying to smother her before the wedding day. I think Catness has it easier at bath time.
But she catches my eye over Jo’s shoulder and smiles at me, her eyes still glistening.
“I love you so much,” she mouths.
“Love you more, woman. Love you until the bitter end.”
29
SWEET DREAMS (JUNIPER)
Getting married feels like falling into a dream.
One of those giddy fever dreams where everything happens without a hitch even when it feels like it shouldn’t be possible.
It’s November now. A mild autumn day by KC standards with a baby-blue sky and small puffy clouds like vanilla wisps.
The leaves have changed from yellow to deep red and mocha, while brassy debris piles over the grass like an ornate rug.
Lovely colors for a white wedding.
And what better way to celebrate than to walk right into forever with the man I’m trusting to lead us there?
“Are you cold, hon?” Nana whispers as we emerge from her car at the same cute park where Dexter proposed.
Only, today it’s all decked out just for us.
Neat white rows of chairs line the way to an arch dripping flowers. Beyond that, there’s the lake. It’s a deep blue without the reflected leaves, pretty as crystal with its refracted sunlight.
“I’m fine,” I tell her softly. “Is it even possible to be chilly on your wedding day?”
I’m serious. The high is like fifty degrees today and I don’t feel a thing on my almost-bare shoulders under the papery shawl.
She gives me an adoring look that hurts my heart.
For just a second, I think she remembers a time when she was just as lovestruck and giddy as me.