Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 101101 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 404(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101101 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 404(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
“I think he understood,” I say to Matteo. “But just to be sure, I should probably cut off a couple more fingers.”
40
Brielle
“You scared the hell out of me.”
I blink several times and then glance at my husband, who’s changed out of his suit and into a pair of gray linen pants and a white button-downed shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, showcasing his toned forearms. His brown hair is still damp from the shower, and his whiskey eyes are shining bright today.
“You turned off your tracker on your phone when you left for Russia, so I have no way of knowing where you are. I called several times, and when you didn’t answer, I assumed the worst. Giani assured me you were safe at home, but we already know he works for you and not me.”
“What time is it?”
“Quarter after six.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I got home from Peyton’s, laid down, thinking I’d take a little cat nap, and passed out.”
“You obviously needed it.”
Kane gives Molly, who’s sleeping against my side, a quick pet, and then he leans in, giving me a chaste kiss. “The doctor has been taken care of.”
My eyes widen.
“And he’s still alive, as promised.”
“Thank you,” I rasp, sitting up and grabbing my phone that was on the nightstand.
Next to it sits the black box housing the engagement ring. I consider putting it on, but I second-guess myself. I’ve only been home for a week. Shouldn’t I take longer to make sure this is what I want?
You already know you love Kane and want to be with him, my subconscious reminds me. Just admit it out loud already.
“Is it too late to go to dinner?” I ask, shoving my internal thoughts to the side.
I was looking forward to tonight. It would’ve been our first real date. And of course, I slept through it.
“We can eat anytime you want. How about you get dressed, and once you’re ready, we’ll go?”
“Are we going somewhere fancy?” I ask, trying to figure out what I should wear.
“Nope. Wear whatever you want. It’s a bit warm out, so maybe something light.”
Hmm … outside. Okay, I can work with that.
I find a lightweight, sleeveless green smocked minidress and pair it with my favorite wedges. I fluff my hair, brush my teeth, and touch up my makeup, and once I’m ready, I head downstairs, stopping at the bottom step when Kane rounds the corner with a bouquet of red roses.
“You look beautiful,” he says, walking toward me as I take the final step into the foyer. “I can’t wait to see your belly swollen with my baby.”
He hands me the roses and gives me a kiss on my cheek.
I inhale the floral scent and set them on the foyer table. “Thank you.”
Kane extends his hand, and I take it, hooking my arm into the crook of his elbow.
Rather than head to the garage, he confuses me when he walks us out the back door and onto the patio. The warm, salty breeze immediately assaults my senses, and I smile out at the ocean. There’s just something so therapeutic about the beach.
I’ve come out here several times since moving in with Kane, and every time it’s as though all the stress temporarily leaves my body.
We cross over the bridge that leads us out to Kane’s private beach, and that’s when I notice the picnic that’s been set up.
Dozens of red roses surround the area, illuminated by soft tiki torches. A blanket is spread across the ground, and a wicker basket is sitting atop it.
Since sand and wedges don’t mix, I tug them off and chuck them to the side and then head down to the picnic.
“I can’t believe you did all this,” I say to Kane, plopping onto the blanket. “When I give in and agree to marry you again, you’d better not stop this romantic stuff.”
The second the words are out of my mouth, I widen my eyes, realizing what I just said, and Kane smirks.
“I’m totally wearing you down, aren’t I, Princess?”
He lowers onto the blanket and pulls two glasses and a bottle of apple cider out of the basket. He fills our glasses and hands me one.
“To you falling in love with me,” he says, clinking my glass.
“To me not drowning you in the ocean.”
He chuckles. “I’ll drink to that.”
Kane pulled out all the stops for our date. Not only did he include all my favorite foods, but he also included several of my current cravings. We spend dinner and dessert talking about everything and nothing. The conversation flows easily, reminding me why I fell in love with Kane. He makes it too easy.
“Dark chocolate is my favorite,” I tell him as he slides a chocolate-covered strawberry between my lips.
“I know.” He chuckles when I moan around the berry. “Because it’s the perfect amount of sweet and bitter and technically good for you,” he says, repeating the words I once told him back to me.