Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Delaney wearing a ring has never bothered me. It has started to feel real in many ways, promising something bigger and that we can overcome the choppy waters of our beginning. Am I naive to feel hopeful?
I get up, straightening my pants and tugging at the sleeves of the tux jacket. Having the sleeve widen just enough to cover the bright white cast makes me feel like a scene stealer. I’d rather the bride be the sole center of attention. But there’s also something I’ve been wanting to do. Before we head off for this special event, it seems like a good time to ask. I pull a marker from that terrible art mug she’s left on my counter and hold it out to her. “Will you sign my cast, Sass?” Helping her lift her jaw off the floor, I add, “Hell’s frozen over.”
“I would say so.” She takes the marker and then pulls the sleeve up just a little. “I’m in shock that you’re willing to graffiti your cast. Isn’t the untidiness going to bother you?”
“Maybe it’s good to be bothered sometimes.” I shrug, panic-stricken on the inside, but I refuse to stop her. “I’m stepping out of my comfort zone.”
“You’re going to love it once you get used to it, and then you’re in a new comfort zone, which leads to the next discomfort, and so on.” The sound of the cap being removed from the marker quickens my pulse. I nod through labored breaths as she leans over. Peering up at me once more, she says, “There’s no going back, Hotshot. Once it’s there, it’s like a tattoo and there for life. Of the cast, of course. So are you sure?”
Don’t back out, Landers.
I exhale and then inhale once more. “Who needs comfort zones anyway?”
“Not Warner Landers, that’s for sure.”
Intentionally moving my arm closer to her, I’ll overcome this as soon as it’s done. “Sign away.”
Studying the options, she asks, “Anywhere?”
“Anywhere you want.”
“Anything I want to write?”
This is becoming more stressful by the ticking second. “Anything you want to write.”
“Any—”
“Please just do it.” I’m starting to sweat. Accepting disorder in my neat and organized world is only a bad habit to overcome. It’s not that big of a deal. I have what? Four to six weeks to go. Max. I can survive a mess on my body for that long. My heavy gulp causes her to look up again.
She grins and gets to work. The marker lands on the plaster, and with unadulterated confidence, she starts dragging the black tip across the white surface. “We should bring the marker for your friends to sign at the reception.”
“Great idea.” I’ve created a monster.
Popping back up, she tucks the marker into the front pocket of my jacket. “All done.”
I breathe easier, and reply, “That’s good. It’s good. Fine.” Looking at her, I smile. It’s a little forced, but I’ll get used to the idea of chaos on my arm.
“Are you going to look or breathe through it?” Holding up her hands in surrender, she adds, “I’m not judging. I’m proud of you for trying something new.”
The black ink peeks out from the sleeve, but I need to pull it back to see the full thing. “I love you, Hotshot” with a heart punctuating the I. “Lowercase, bold move,” I joke, but there’s no lightness to it. My heart is now pounding only for her and the words we’ve never spoken aloud. Okay, whatever, except that time during sex, but I’m not sure confessing love while climaxing would hold up in court.
“You know me,” she replies so casually as she starts toward the door, but I catch her hand and bring her back to me.
“I do know you.” Brushing the backs of her fingers, I look into those pretty blues of hers, and whisper, “I love you, Delaney.”
Her smile falters, but I can see from the gleam in her eyes that it’s not from a lack of happiness. Reaching up, she cups my face and kisses me. This kiss holds promises we’ve not verbalized, apologizes for misgivings, and a future where we know we can survive anything.
And then she lands back on her heels and licks her lips. “I love you, too, so much.”
“Well, now that that’s been settled . . .” I prop my cast out for her. “It’s time for a wedding.” That didn’t come out the way I intended. “My friends’ wedding. Not ours.”
Wrapping her hand around my elbow, she cracks up. “Don’t worry. I didn’t think you’d rush us off to Vegas for a ceremony at the Little White Chapel, so you can relax.”
As we walk to the door, I say, “That’s very specific. Is that something you’d do?”
“Only if my family were there.” I open the door for her. Just before it slams closed behind us, she adds, “I couldn’t imagine getting married without my family present.” She looks up at me when we stop at the elevator. “What about you? Don’t you want your mother there?”