Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 50801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
“Paxton,” she sighs against my mouth, pulling back slightly. “Take me back.”
I kiss her quickly before she hops off of me, allowing me a second to adjust before I help her gather our beach towels and bag, and we all but run back to our bungalow.
CHAPTER 12
MONROE
I pop the fresh toast out of the oven, splitting the four pieces onto two plates as I shuffle back to Paxton’s stove. I check on my poached eggs before moving to the side to finish smashing the avocado. The bacon is already done, and after slathering the toast with the green spread, I place the eggs on top of it, drizzling some chili oil and hot honey on it before setting the plates on the table in Paxton’s dining room.
It's been a month since we've come back from the Maldives, and we've fallen into this beautiful domestic rhythm that I can’t deny how much I enjoy. Being at home with him in the off-season, living in his space, and being able to hang out with my best friend 24/7 is every bit the dream it sounds like. Add to it the physical chemistry that crackles between us? It almost scares me with how perfect everything is.
The space he set up for me to work on my clients has made my life ten times easier, and I've been able to fit in more clients than normal without having to add additional time for travel. He supports me in every way that matters, and maybe that's why we work so well together—we genuinely care for and encourage the other's dreams.
Is that the key to a good relationship?
Is that what I've been missing every time I say I’m not a serious relationship girl?
Is what Paxton and I have—this passionate and fun and comfortable and safe thing—something like my parents have? The relationship that seems like a fairy tale I thought no one else could ever live up to?
The thought has crossed my mind more than once these past weeks, especially in the first week we returned from vacation. I’d been afraid everything would change because we were back in reality, but the only thing that changed was the setting.
I practically lived in Paxton’s room now, sleeping there every night snuggled up against him. It’s the sort of safe security I’ve never experienced before, and I know that has a lot to do with the fact that I trust Paxton with every single piece of me.
And as the weeks have passed with us behaving like a couple, the more I can’t help but look to the future. I know there’s no going back to normal—no variation where we can go back to just being friends. That ship has sailed. Practically sank that first night we deluded ourselves into thinking we could be intimate without anything changing between us.
Everything has changed.
I have changed.
And even though I’m not quite certain exactly how or what I’m going to do about it, I can feel it on a molecular level.
Thankfully, as usual, Paxton never presses the issue. Never tries to force labels or tie me down in a way that would set off all my panic triggers. He knows me better than I know myself sometimes, and these past few weeks with him have been some of the best of my life.
I don’t have to figure everything out right this second. I don’t have to map out my entire life because of this change, and I love him all the more for giving me that assurance without even asking.
Not for the first time, I feel a little unworthy of his compassion and kindness toward me. I do my best to shove that insecurity aside, knowing full-well I do my best to treat him just as well as he treats me. Still, it’s hard to wonder how I got so lucky to have someone as amazing as him in my life.
I finish setting the breakfast table just as Paxton rounds the corner. He pauses two steps in, eyes wide at the surprise I made for him.
My shoulders immediately drop, taking in his athletic clothes, his gear bag slung over one shoulder, and his keys in his other hand.
“I didn't know you were making breakfast,” he says.
I immediately wave him off, motioning toward the door. “It was a spur-of-the-moment surprise,” I hurry to say. “I didn't know you had plans. Not that you need to run your plans by me.” I’m rambling now, feeling slightly ridiculous about the elaborate lengths I went to in order to make his favorite breakfast. Of course, I should’ve checked with him first. “Don't worry about this. I'll trash it after I eat. No big deal.”
“I was going to grab a workout with the guys before our pick-up game this afternoon,” he says, sliding his gear bag off his shoulder and letting it drop to the floor. He tosses his keys on top of it before taking a seat in front of the plate I made him. “This looks amazing,” he says, taking a huge bite. “Oh, my freaking favorite.” He says around the mouthful.