Own the Eights Gets Married - Krista Sandor Page 0,70
boot camp. I reverted to asshattery, and you were right about me becoming the King of Crap. I turned into my worst self. I see that now. I see it so clearly, and it’s not what you deserve.”
Georgie pressed her fingertips to his lips, silencing his rant.
“What I deserve is an asshat who loves me enough to carry around my dryer lint and quote Shakespeare to me in front of the world.”
“You do?” he breathed.
“What I was going to say was that I’m so sorry,” she said gently.
He couldn’t pull his gaze from her shining blue-green eyes. “Why should you be sorry?”
“I should have trusted that we could get through anything. I should have believed in our investment in each other. I shouldn’t have decided to quit the boot camp without talking it over with you. I was mad, and I forgot how strong I was—how strong we are when we work together,” she replied, holding his gaze—her beautiful eyes imploring him to believe her.
He shook his head. “But I argued with you over the color rose and told a group of people you were a sex maniac. I let an alpaca spew all over you. And don’t forget, I lost my shit over a dryer sheet. I think you had the right to be upset,” he replied, then wanted to duct tape his mouth closed.
She patted his cheek. “You are not making a great case for yourself, Mr. Marks.”
She was right. This was it. This was his moment to set the record straight.
He steadied himself. “I love you, Georgiana. And if you’ll let me, I want to spend the rest of my life proving to you that I will never be reckless with your heart. Please, say it’s not over.”
She nodded, mulling over his words.
“There are six things we need to discuss first,” she answered carefully.
A spark of hope ignited in his chest. “We can talk about whatever you want.”
She held his gaze as a tear slid down her cheek. “Number one, alpacas can be real asshats when they want to.”
He cupped her face in his hands. “Agreed. Total asshats.”
“Number two. You promise to always sleep with your goose down pillow and will seek appropriate medical care if you ever start snoring again.”
He nodded. “Goose down pillows for life. And I’ll keep an ear, nose, and throat doc on speed dial.”
“Three,” she stated, her tone resolute. “The words shit shovel will never be spoken between us again.”
A shiver spider-crawled down his spine at the thought of that godforsaken implement of horrors.
“Agreed. From this moment forward, we are firmly on team toilet,” he answered, somewhat aware of the muffled laughter around them. But it didn’t matter. Georgie was here—with conditions—and he was ready to agree to all of her terms.
“Four,” she continued. “Lemon verbena will become the official scent of the More Than Just a Number blog.”
He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “It was my favorite even before I knew what it was.”
Georgie released a shaky breath. “Five, and this one is tough for me, but I’m a strong woman, and I can accept the truth, no matter how hard it may be.”
Nothing moved. It was as if the universe itself were bracing for Georgie’s stipulation. But, good God! What could she be talking about?
She lifted her chin. “Number five, the color rose is kind of pink—even though it is its own color and holds its own on the color spectrum.”
He gasped. “Really? It is pink? It looks pink to someone not versed in nuanced color shades. Then again, it could be me. Should we have my vision tested? It could be that,” he rambled, then shut his damn mouth, again, wishing for some duct tape, when she turned on the stink eye.
“Kind of pink,” she said, lowering her voice.
Point taken.
He nodded, getting the message loud and clear.
“Okay, I agree. Rose is kind of pink but still a solid color all on its own. And six,” he pressed—so ready to put these two weeks of hell behind him and move forward with the love of his life.
“Six is about time,” she said as another tear trailed down her cheek.
“What about it?” he whispered.
“Time is precious. It’s the most valuable thing we have, and I want to spend as much of it as humanly possible with you. We’re not over. We’ll never be over. The Emperor and Empress of Asshattery have a long reign ahead of them,” she finished, gazing up at him.