He kisses me softly on the forehead, lips idling there. “Tomorrow’s gonna be a good day,” he whispers.
And for the first time in a long time, I fall asleep actually believing it.
Chapter Thirty-Four
MY SOUL CHOSE HERS
Connor
Gretchen’s hair,rich with the scent of vanilla and lavender, coaxes me awake. The sun slices through the small gap in the curtains drawn over the sliding balcony door.
Blinking, I do a quick assessment and confirm I still have pants on, but my shirt is…not on my body. More concerning, though, is how I’m playing the role of big spoon from the opposite side of the bed from where I began. I throw a lazy-eyed glance over her shoulder.Myside of the bed sits vastly empty—one of life’s greatest mysteries.
I run my fingertips up and down her arm. She stirs and flips to face me. Head burrowed in my chest, she tucks her hands under her chin.
She nudges her leg between mine. “How’d you end up over here?” she says sleepily.
I throw my top leg over her hip. “Sshhhh. I find it’s best to not ask those types of questions, Fish.”
Her breathy chuckle whispers over my bare chest. She’s here inmy arms, everything out in the open between us—the fact that I’m in love with her, notwithstanding. It feels too soon to say those words just yet.
If I wasn’t already gone for her three years ago, the events of the last eighteen hours have solidified it.
I’d never fully realized how much I craved a partner that fit in with my family until she yanked my phone out of my hand and fell in step with my parents like they were long lost besties. The subsequent texts from Mom and Dad—of which I only showed the first couple to Gretchen—were a pure love fest proclaiming how much they love her, how beautiful she is and how they can’t wait to see her again. Not knowing for sure if they still talk to Kelly and Paul Fisher, I erred on the side of caution and texted them while Gretchen was in the shower last night to tell them this was very new and to please not say anything to anybody before we are able to tell her family.
Maybe I’m crazy to think so far ahead, but I know she’s it for me. I’ve known it for longer than I care to admit. Picturing a happily ever after feels like a level of permanency I’d never allowed myself to indulge in before now.
“I see you ditched the shirt,” she mutters into my neck.
“Sshhhh,” I coo, stroking her hair, “let’s not try to figure out when or how that happened.”
She plants a soft peck on my collarbone as I kiss the crown of her head, our entangled bodies and mindless kisses so natural and uncomplicated. This is home, I think.
Sheis home.
“What time is it?”
“Don’t know,” I yawn.
She props herself up, squinting over my shoulder. “Damn, I need my glasses.”
With zero grace or consideration for my vital organs, she climbs over me until my hips are braced between her legs. She sweeps her hand across the nightstand and finally locates her glasses and slides them on.
“7:45,” she says and then looks down at me. “What are you smiling at?”
“You.” The girl with the sexy librarian glasses and her body draped over mine like a stage-five clinger baby koala.
“Mmmm, does my boyfriend have a glasses kink?”
“I have a you kink.” I squeeze her ass and roll us onto our sides.
She giggles and I move in to kiss her, but she jerks back. “Ew, I need to brush my teeth first.” I pout. “Romance is not dead one day in, old man.”
I roll again so I’m on top of her, my hands pinning her arms by her head. “Oh, I’m gonna romance the hell out of you.”
She lifts her chin defiantly. “Not with morning breath, you’re not.”
“Challenge accepted.”
