“You’re being awfully immature about this.”
His eyes darkened. “I like our story the way it is.”
“We ended up together in my story, too.”
“Eight years later. Eight fucking years, babe. Doesn’t that make you feel cold just thinking about losing eight years of our life together?”
“Yes.” I cuddled him, resting my head against his strong chest. “And it wasn’t easy to write. But I didn’t see it like how you’re seeing it. I wrote it because I knew deep in my soul that no matter what, I would always have ended up right where I am in this exact moment. That doesn’t make me cold, Braden.” I pulled back to look up at a face I loved so much. “I think it’s a beautiful thought.”
My words seemed to finally sink in.
And I knew when he got me.
He kissed me. Deep, hungry, and wet. Before I knew it, I was on my back in bed. My husband had slid his hand under my shirt when there was a knock at the door.
“Are you done arguing because Ellie’s hungry!” Beth shouted from the hall.
Braden groaned, dropping his head in my neck.
I rubbed his back soothingly. “Yeah, baby, we’ll be right out.”
She stomped down the stairs, making enough noise for a herd of kids. We grinned at each other.
As we got out of the bed and straightened our clothes, Braden said, “Babe.”
I turned to look at him and he was giving me a sheepish, boyish smile I wasn’t used to seeing on his face. I decided I liked it. A lot. “Yeah?”
“At least you know one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re one hell of a writer. I wouldn’t have gotten pissed off otherwise.”
I grinned at him. “You do realize I’m never letting you live your reaction down. Ever.”
And just like that, his sheepishness was gone, obliterated by the arrogance I’d come to know and learned to love. He prowled over to me and slid his hand down my waist and around to squeeze my ass, pulling me into him. “Every time you bring it up, I’m going to fuck you. No matter where we are.”
“You wouldn’t,” I dared.
“I think we both know I would.”
Yes, we both knew he would.
Dammit.
Seeing the answer in my eyes, he let me go and marched over to our door. Instead of opening it, he turned back to me instead, unsatisfied lust burning in his gaze. “You owe me a blow job for upsetting me today.”
I grinned. “Oh really.”
“Yes, really.”
“It’s not Tuesday.”
He grinned back at my joke. “I love you.”
“See, that might get you a blow job,” I teased, opening the door.
Braden took my hand as we walked down the stairs. I was musing over how many husbands still held their wives’ hands after fourteen years of marriage when he asked, “What’s for dinner tonight?”
When I remembered what I was planning on cooking, I burst out laughing.
Braden smiled curiously at me. “What?”
“You’ll never believe it.”
“What?”
Tears of laughter pricked my eyes. “Sausage,” I gasped.
Remembering a conversation from long ago, one that Braden would later tell me was the beginning of him falling under my spell, my husband started to laugh, too.
I guess there were some things that never changed.
And in this case, that was a good thing.
It had been tough to write the novella, but I’d enjoyed it. It had renewed my faith in the kind of love I shared with my husband.
However … Braden was right. I wouldn’t give up our real story for anything.
It had made us who we were.
I loved who we were and I was proud of what we’d created together. If my family really were looking down on us, I knew they’d be content in the knowledge that I got my shit together. I’d lost everything at such a young age … but then Braden came into my life and I found myself with the kind of love that a rare few got to experience.
Life was funny that way.
“I thought you were arguing,” Beth charged into the hall, staring at us like we were aliens.
“We were.” My laughter died away as Braden kissed my cheek and strode into the living room to see to Ellie and Luke.
“And now you’re laughing? You two are weird.”
“Hey.” I tugged her into my side as we walked into the living room. “I will die a happy woman if you find someone to be just as weird with.”
The End