Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 128430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
He’s great, and I believe him.
“Story?” he whispers. My breath halts in my throat. Maybe I assumed too soon. “Thank you for having Reed, for raising him, even without me. Thank you for being Mom and loving him enough for the both of us.”
Now I’m choked up, the lump making the act of swallowing a little harder.
He wraps his arms around me and kisses my cheek. “I have him only because of you. Thank you.”
“And I only have him because of you. What do you say we tell him soon?”
“I’d really like that.”
Sitting back, he lets his fingers trail along my scar. “No matter how many years we have ahead or how many are in our past, you will always be the best part of this life for me.”
It’s my turn to tear up. This man, he thinks I saved him, but he’ll never understand how he saved me. We make no sense on paper or to others, but to us, we do and isn’t that what’s important?
As for the scar he’s tracing, the red has faded, and it isn’t as angry anymore. Neither is he. Though both of us have so much that we could be if we had held on to it—his parents, the years we lost, my mom’s death, her life.
I used to dream of having the scar lasered and once considered getting a tattoo to blend it away. But it’s a reminder of not only my mom but how far I’ve come. It’s a piece of my history that I now consider my art. Reed thinks it’s the coolest, and Cooper kisses it and tells me it reminds him of the stem of a peony. I’m good with that.
Using the years to think about my mom, she had a lot of struggles in her life. But I try to remember that she chose to keep me. After that, she raised me the best she could. And at the end of her life, she fought for me. I don’t think I ever fully gave her the credit she deserved. I said it, but now I know it. Calliope taught me some hard lessons, but the one that stands out the most is to live life on my own terms. I’ll teach my son the same. She was one of a kind, and mine.
Cooper and I climb under the covers on our respective sides of the bed. His scars are on the inside and a little harder to reach. I think Reed and I are doing a good job, though. Cooper’s right. He’s more than the label of my boyfriend, Mommy’s friend, or Reed’s buddy. But as he said, there’s an unspoken understanding between the three of us. We know what we are to each other, and that’s all that matters.
I sink into the bed next to him, my body tired from the day, but my mind is going full speed. “Cooper?” I ask, peeking over at him. “Why didn’t we just get married back then? It would have ended any opportunity for that contract.”
“That’s true. It would have taken away any ammunition they had to make me get married.” His eyes meet mine. “But would you have married me? Would you have said yes?”
“To put an end to that nightmare. Yes, I would have.”
“And otherwise?”
I don’t have to think about it because I already know the answer. “Yes.”
He rolls to his side to face me. “What about now?”
I roll to my side to face him, already grinning. “Are you asking?”
“I could be. Depends on your answer.” He smirks, but I get the bonus wink as well. “I was planning to do it this weekend.”
Screw the butterflies, my happiness bursts like fireworks in my chest. “Don’t you think three months is a little fast.”
He leans forward and kisses me. “Since when did we ever take anything slow?”
Angling onto my back, I invite him over. He moves quickly, settling between my legs and cups my cheeks. I caress his, and say, “The answer is yes.”
We seal it with a kiss . . . and then I score an orgasm before he slides back up my body ready for the main event. Feeling light as air, I ask, “Do you want to play doctor tonight?”
“I’m not really into that role play.”
“What are you into, Cooper Haywood?”
“Financial analysts with a passion for photography.”
I burst out laughing before I remember I need to keep it down. “That’s oddly specific.” I play coy because it’s fun with him and blink my eyelashes.
“Well, how about this?” He kisses the base of my neck and then says, “My real kink—I’m really into Story Salenger.”
“An engagement that involves sex—”
“Great sex,” he interjects.
“Valid point. An engagement that involves great sex is not really a story we can tell our grandkids or kids of any sort. It’s rated R for eighteen plus, but even if our kids are older teens, this is not—”