have in a long time.
“Mornin’, killer,” he whispers softly.
“Morning.” I’m smiling. I can’t help it.
Even though the annulment was nearly instant—I suppose the show had that pre-prepared—we’re getting married again. For real. My voice is groggy with sleep as I lift my hand and set it on the stubble of Luke’s jaw. I’m just making sure that I am not imagining this or him, that I’m really here in his arms.
“Hi,” I say when I touch his warm flesh.
“Hi.” He chuckles.
“I didn’t imagine last night. Or . . .” I lift my hand and gasp delightedly, staring at my engagement ring. “Or this!” I squee, throwing my arms around him again.
He chuckles and draws me to him, propping his back up against the pillow as he drags me to his lap. I’m peppering him with kisses the whole time he maneuvers. “Yes! A thousand times yes,” I say.
“One’s enough. One for a lifetime.” He sounds sleepy too. Sleepy and sexy as he pops a slow, sweet kiss on my lips.
“It’s a quote. You know. Pride and Prejudice.”
His eyes start dancing mischievously. “Tell me one in French.”
I laugh. “Je te’aime.”
“Je te’aime aussi.”
“Oh! You are learning French!”
I can’t take my hands off him or stop dropping kisses on him. We didn’t just win the game. We won the fucking soulmate jackpot. We found the kind of soulmate that everyone most wants.
“One day,” I say when I finally ease out of bed and head over to investigate his small, messy kitchen, “I want you to show me how to pour a glass. Make a killer drink. Like a real bartender.” I slide behind the kitchen counter and rummage through the fridge. Everything in there looks really old. I scrunch my nose as I try to find something edible. “Can I make you something?”
I lift my gaze across the room to the bed. He is slowly shaking his head. And then he wags his finger at me. Oh gosh. He is so hot. In bed, all rumpled from having sex with me. I can’t believe I almost threw him away, threw us away out of fear and insecurity. I’m never going to be apart from him again. If the world doesn’t get it, then okay. But I get it and I get him, and he gets me. I don’t know what I’m going to do about Massachusetts anymore. I don’t know what I’m going to do about anything anymore except that I’m marrying him and I hope we don’t wait too long.
Leaving the food for now, I head back to bed. Obeying his sexy summons. My fiancé/ex-husband/future husband is more edible anyway. He draws the covers back and pats his naked lap. He’s so hard for me already that my mouth waters a little bit as I climb up there and twine my arms around his neck once more.
We kiss for a bit. Actually, for a lot. With no rush, easily. Without any cameras on us. Without any checkpoint waiting. Just Luke and me. His hot tongue and warm, caressing hands. And breathless little me. Eating all of it right up.
“So, when are you thinking,” I prod softly, easing back to catch my breath. Wiggling the ring in front of his eyes.
“Now. Tomorrow. Soon.” He doesn’t hesitate when he answers, but then he frowns. “But not so soon that it feels fake like last time. I want you to have the wedding you always wanted.”
“I will have what I want—you.” I skim my gaze around his place, which, although messy, is quite charming. Even his bar downstairs is somehow so . . . him. And I can’t help remembering his financial situation. Soon to be ours. “I also don’t want us to throw away any money . . .” I keep visually skimming the place methodically, noticing there are absolutely no bookshelves or books at all except for a single book about learning French on his nightstand. My toes curl as I spot it. “This place isn’t as bad as you said. It’s cute. Will we live here?”
“For a while, yes. Until I can get shit sorted and we can get a bigger place for when the kids come. Hey.” Seeing me distracted, he turns me by the chin to face him and look into his beautiful eyes. “Don’t worry—I’ll tidy up.”
“I’m not worried.” I exhale, press my head down to his chest, and hug myself to him again. “I can’t wait.”
Still. I think of all the money we lost—he lost—because of me, and