“Ugh. That's beside the point, stop trying to distract me,” she growls at me. “I’m freaking out because of you. Because for some reason I’ve started giving a shit about you, and that means I want your friends to like me. It means I want to impress them and make them feel welcome in our home.”
I’m storing that whole liking me comment away for later. Meanwhile I’m smiling like an idiot.
“Our home. I was just thinking to myself in the shower that I love the sound of that.” I eliminate the distance between us. “Tell me, Scar, if I got down on my knees right now to show you how appreciative I am for the hard work you’ve put into today, would that help settle your nerves? Would that earn your forgiveness for my big mouth getting the best of me?”
“Y-yes.”
I press her back against the floor-to-ceiling shelves as I drop down to my knees, still wrapped in only my towel.
“Eyes on the mirror, baby girl. I want you to watch how good your future husband can make you feel.”
I’ve barely tasted paradise when a shrilling sound rings throughout the house.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! That’s the smoke alarm!” Scarlett says as she adjusts her robe and then rushes out of the closet.
I throw on the first pair of sweatpants I can find and run down the stairs as fast as I can.
When I enter the kitchen, Gemma is standing beneath the fire alarm with a dish rag laughing hysterically and Scarlett is spraying something down in the sink that’s billowing with smoke.
“This is too good—I just started home ec class and even I know you shouldn’t step away from the oven if you set the timer on it. You should’ve at least set the timer on your phone, Scar.”
“Yeah, Gems, I realize that now.”
“Why were you making cookies anyways? It’s Thanksgiving, shouldn’t you be baking pies?”
“I wanted the house to smell like fresh baked cookies,” Scar admits in defeat as she throws her hands in the air.
“Well, now it’ll smell like burnt cookies and burnt parchment paper,” Gemma tells her as she chuckles at her sister’s expense.
“What can I do to help, love?” The moment the words leave my mouth, Scarlett freezes from my slip of tongue. I’m not even mad about calling her that, but when she turns to face me, she not only looks frazzled but also unsure of herself.
Scar closes her eyes and takes a deep, steadying breath. “Would you please open the patio door to air out the kitchen and living room? And Gemma, would you and Gunner please set up the kids’ dining table with the coloring place mats Gunner picked out?”
I nod my head as Gemma says, “We’re on it, sis!”
I’m thankful Gemma seems to be in a good mood today, she and Scar have been butting heads lately, which has been weighing heavily on Scarlett. The other day when the three of us went to pick out Gemma’s guitar, she was short and snippy with Scar. Gems and I had a good chat later that evening when we were tuning her new guitar. When I asked her what was going on, she admitted that change is hard for her and she has been going through a lot of it lately, and not that they are necessarily bad changes, but any change overwhelms her. She agreed to try to take it easier on Scar and chat about it with her therapist at her next appointment. Whether it’s my place or not, I’m crazy proud of her.
Once I’ve opened the patio door and noticed Gemma and Gunner have gone upstairs to grab the coloring place mats, I move to stand behind Scarlett, resting my chin on her shoulder and wrapping my arms around her waist.
Her shoulders relax from my touch, giving me a sense of pride knowing I can do that for her. “What’s this thing in your hair? I thought it was a towel at first, but now I realize you slept in it.”
She shakes with laughter at my question. “It’s a silk bonnet that I sleep in to hold my heatless curls. I should probably be mortified that you’re seeing me in this state, but I’m honestly too overstimulated to care right now. Sorry, the honeymoon phase of our marriage is over before it’s even begun.”
“I don’t know, Red, I think I prefer you being comfortable and real around me to living in a fake honeymoon phase,” I admit.
“Hmm, someone’s earning brownie points.”
“And what do I get if I earn enough of those?” I murmur the question against her skin before trailing my lips down the column of her neck.
“Whatever you want,” she says breathlessly as I move the satin fabric of her robe off her shoulder, desperate to kiss every freckle glittering her skin.
Laughter rumbles in my chest. “Is that so? I’d be careful if I were you. Giving me free rein to do whatever I want to you might be a roll of the dice you’re not ready for,” I warn.
“Didn’t you ask me to take a gamble on you when you proposed?” she questions as she spins in my hold, wrapping her arms around my neck.
“I did.”
“Well, I’d like to see what happens when I give you full control. Something tells me there’s more to that rail you had hidden in your headboard . . . and I’d like to find out,” she admits.
