Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“Is it present time?” he asks as we walk hand in hand to the living room.
“Let’s do it,” I tell him.
“I go first,” he says. He heads over to the tree in the living room, where all our gifts for each other are. He grabs a long, slender box and practically skips back to the couch to take a seat next to me. “Merry Christmas, beautiful,” he says, placing the box on my lap.
Lifting the box, I shake it, trying to guess what’s inside. “I’ve got nothing,” I tell Landry, and he laughs. “It’s so light.”
“You’re going to have to open it and find out, baby.” He grins.
“Wait.” Putting the box next to me on the couch, I stand and go to the tree, grabbing the gift I want him to open. Rushing back to the couch, I dive for a cushion, making him bounce with a laugh as I hand it to him. “This is yours,” I say, leaning over and kissing his cheek.
“You first,” he tells me. “I’ve been waiting for this for ages.”
“Ages, huh?”
“Just open it.” He shakes his head, but he’s smiling.
“Before I do, I want to say thank you. You’ve held me up and loved me through so much this year. Thank you for this life we’re building together. You’re my hero, Landry Reynolds.”
He leans in close, his lips hovering over mine. “Not your hero, baby. Just yours,” he mumbles against my lips. When he pulls back, he nods at the gift in my hand. “Open.”
I wiggle in my seat as I slowly tear back the paper. “Did you wrap this? It’s so pretty.”
“I did,” he tells me. “It only took me three times.” He holds up his hands, which are giant compared to mine. “These hands do better catching footballs than wrapping presents.”
“You did perfectly,” I say, as the last shred of wrapping paper falls to the floor. It’s a white gift box, the kind you’d get for a shirt, but it’s so light it doesn’t feel like a shirt is inside. Peeling back the tape on the sides, I pull the lid off the box and dig through the tissue paper to find an envelope. I hold it up. “What is this?” I ask, my brows furrowed.
“Open it, Roe.”
Opening the envelope, I pull out a single sheet of paper and start to read. “Congratulations, all necessary paperwork has been completed, and the Rowan Reynolds Foundation is now recognized as a non-profit organization. We look forward to helping you with all your future needs of the foundation.” The letter is signed, but I keep repeating the words over and over in my head. “Landry?” I ask, my voice shaking.
“I know this is an unconventional gift, but it’s something that’s near and dear to both of our hearts. I hope it’s something that we can build and grow together.”
“Rowan Reynolds Foundation,” I read aloud.
“Rowan Reynolds is the love of my life, my wife, of course this foundation is named after her.” He winks.
“I’m not your wife yet.”
“You are in here.” He places his hand over his chest. “This foundation is in support of those in the foster care system who are aging out. They still need support to get on their feet, whether through college or trade school, and to find a job if neither of those options is feasible. So many are tossed back out into the world once they age out, and we’re going to help them.”
He’s right. I busted my ass and got a scholarship to a college in Michigan. I waited tables and lived in a rundown apartment because it didn’t cover housing. Then I met Chaz, and he dazzled me, made me feel important, until he didn’t, but then I was too far into his web. If I had had some kind of support or assistance, I might have chosen a different path. A better one. Although that path eventually led me here to my Landry, and the family we’re building by choice. I wouldn’t change that for anything.
“My gift can’t top this,” I say, chuckling as I wipe the tears from my cheeks.
“Baby, it’s not a competition. I’m sure whatever it is, I’m going to love it.”
“Not as much as I love you. This is incredible, Landry. You’ve given me so much—your heart the best of them. But this”—I hold up the paper—“is a close second.”
“I love you too. Now, it’s my turn.” He tears into the package and freezes once he sees what’s inside. He stares down at the gift in his hands for several long heartbeats before lifting his gaze to mine. There are tears in his eyes. “How?”
“I took the picture you gave to me before you proposed to a local artist. I had them draw it. I wanted your parents to be a part of our home. I also got one for Corie and Knox. I hope that’s okay, but it seemed fitting that I do the same for them.”