“Sweetheart, I remember every word you’ve ever said to me.” His thumb traces along my collarbone, and I suppress a shiver. “Especially the dirty ones.”
“Hays,” I warn, but there’s no heat behind it.
“What? I’m just appreciating my wife.” The word ‘wife’ rolls off his tongue as if he’s been waiting his whole life to say it. “My brilliant, beautiful, perfect wife who looks like an innocent angel in white, but who likes things as spicy as I do.”
"About that," I murmur, pressing closer. "I've been working on something new. Something that makes that birthday letter look tame."
His grip on my waist tightens. "How tame are we talking?"
"Let's just say it captures the very thorough celebration of your major championship win. Remember? That night after the party at your house…in the bathroom?"
"Fuck," he breathes against my ear.
I trace a finger along the platinum wedding band on his finger.
"Any regrets?" he asks softly, his sea-glass eyes serious, despite the smile playing at his lips.
I pretend to consider the question. "Well, I did always picture myself having a longer engagement."
"Three years wasn't long enough for you?"
"I meant officially engaged." I lean closer, lowering my voice. "Though I do need to rewrite the ending of my second book now."
"The mystery project?" His eyes light up with interest.
"Turns out my golf pro hero and the small-town heroine he falls for at first sight end up together after all."
"Well, of course," he says with that trademark grin. "You had me as source material. Poor fictional girl didn't stand a chance."
"Modest as always," I laugh, shaking my head.
His voice drops to that velvet tone. "I hope your fictional hero makes his girl scream his name just like you scream mine."
"Actually, I've been documenting all your best moves," I say with mock seriousness. "That thing you do with your tongue? Definitely going in chapter twelve. And the way you make me beg? Chapter fifteen is going to be very educational."
He looks amused. "That so?"
"I'm nothing if not dedicated to my craft. Though I might need some refresher sessions to make sure I get all the details right."
“Good things come to those who wait,” he murmurs, pulling me closer until there’s no space between us.
“And great things,” I reply, thinking back to that first night, “come to those who take risks.”
The truth of that statement settles deep in my chest. Three years ago, agreeing to marry a stranger felt like the craziest thing I’d ever done. Now, standing here as his wife, it feels like the sanest decision of my life.
“Thank you,” he says suddenly, his expression growing serious.
“For what?”
“For saying yes. For wearing my ring. For believing in us.” His thumb traces across my wedding band. “For making me the luckiest bastard alive.”
Tears prick the back of my eyes, but they’re the good kind. The kind that come from being so completely, utterly happy your heart can barely contain it.
“You know what I realized today?” I ask, straightening his tie.
“What’s that?”
“That night when you saidwhen you know, you know? You were right.”
