Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
Slowly, Draven drops down on top of me, my thighs trembling around his hips as he presses down harder, harder, flattening me, all while looking me right in the eye. Such intense focus on me that I swear I’m the only person in the universe. To him, I think I am.
We’re so wrapped up in each other, I don’t hear the phone buzzing right away. It’s only after a few seconds that I realize the device is vibrating on the coffee table to my left. “Goddammit,” he says through his teeth, leaning down to drop a fervent kiss on my tummy, followed by my moist flesh. “I know that’s my brother calling. We should have been at the restaurant fifteen minutes ago.”
I gasp, searching around the room with my eyes for a clock, finding one on the cable box beside the television. “Oh my gosh. I totally lost track of time.”
“I wonder why,” Draven says, dragging his tongue in a circle around my belly button. “I haven’t left you alone since we got home last night. Poor girl.”
“Happy girl.”
He lifts his head and grins, studying me. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I whisper, caressing his cheek. “Crazy happy.”
For long moments, he stares at me, a deep, abiding love displayed on his face. I could lie there for hours while he looks at me like this, but his phone rings again. “You know what?” Draven says, sounding thoughtful. Slightly dazed. “Fuck work.”
I lift an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, we’re not going to work today. Fuck it.” He grabs his vibrating phone off the coffee table and stands, looking down at me. “Pierre. Yeah, no shit. I know we’re not there.” He listens for a moment, the tinny gripes of his brother filling the air. “There should be enough sauce to make it to the dinner shift. After that, you’re on your own. We’re taking the day off work to get married.”
I slap a hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp.
Married?
Today?
Draven holds the phone away from his ear while Pierre screeches on the other end of the line. His voice is loud enough to make out what he’s saying now. “You can’t just pick and choose when to be responsible, you prick! Just like you can’t pick and choose when to think about kitchen safety. If you were more consistent—”
“Our mother would still be alive,” Draven finishes for him, something new in his tone. Realization. Freedom. “Yeah, I’m not going to let you hold that over my head anymore. Believe me, I’ve punished myself enough for the both of us. But, uh…” His chest rises and falls on a breath. “I’m done with the guilt. I’m choosing to be happy. Goodbye, Pierre. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
He hangs up the phone before his brother has a chance to respond.
I view my fiancé through a blurred lens of tears, my heart bursting with happiness for so many reasons. One, we’re getting married today. But more importantly, he has loosened the chains of guilt that have shackled him for so long. He’s free.
With a watery sound, I bound off the couch and launch myself into his arms.
“I couldn’t have done that without you, Claire,” he whispers into my hair, his arms banding around me like steel, his masculine musk filling my nose, my head, his rich heat reaching me through the borrowed T-shirt. “Please become my wife today. I never want to be apart from you. I want my life and yours to be one and the same. Always.”
“I want that, too,” I murmur, laying my cheek on his shoulder. “Make me yours, Draven.”
When I left home, I only packed one dress, and I wear it now to get married.
It’s pink with cap sleeves and a tiny bow between my breasts. It’s a little too short to be appropriate for the courthouse, but the skirt is flowy with a lace hem, which is my version of fancy. Unfortunately, all I have to wear with it are my white sneakers and socks, and the ensemble makes me look young. Too young to be getting married.
At least, that appears to be the opinion of everyone we pass in the courthouse.
Draven holds my hand proudly within his and I walk at his side while we go through the process of procuring the marriage license and receive our time to appear before the judge. While we’re waiting, I sit in his lap and we talk about the future. Opening our own restaurant on the dramatic Maine coastline and collecting Michelin stars one by one with our secret recipes. We talk about having babies. At least two. A boy and a girl. We’ll take them to summer in the south of France while Draven learns new tricks from the local chefs.
Soon enough, it’s time to stand before the judge, and Draven carries me to the civil ceremony chambers, my sneakers dangling over his arm.