Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Beside the picture of him lifting Chloe’s veil and kissing her, there was one of him standing shoulder to shoulder with Bobby Prince, his unsuspecting real father, a carpenter who now lived in Maine and ran an Adirondack chair design company with his two boisterous brothers. Meaning, Sig had uncles, cousins. Loud ones. A family that wanted to know him. Fortunately or unfortunately, they also fucking loved hockey and were constantly hitting him up for Bearcats tickets so they could come cheer him on beside Chloe . . . who’d gone back to wearing her pink jersey with pride, of course.
In another picture, Sig held the Stanley Cup over his head, roaring over the victory in front of a sold-out crowd—including Bobby, who applauded from the family section. A dream fulfilled in a way that was better than he could have imagined. For both of them. He’d gained a father, and Bobby, who’d never been made aware of the paternity test results thirty years earlier, was proud to call Sig his son. And give him unsolicited hockey advice.
Rosie still came to her one annual game, though she made sure it was not a game Bobby would be attending, and both of his parents seemed comfortable leaving their acquaintance in the past where it belonged. Sig thought they were being dramatic and stubborn, but Chloe liked to point out that Sig’s stubbornness had come from somewhere—and if he hadn’t been stubborn, he never would have hired that private investigator.
To her, that trait was something to be thankful for.
Sig? He was just thankful for Chloe.
Beside the treasured snapshot of him lifting the Cup was a photo of Chloe the morning she’d handcuffed herself to his truck after catching him on the phone with a dealership. And finally, a snap of their annual baseball game in the park, organized by Corrigan and Skylar, whose story was nearly as fraught as Sig and Chloe’s.
Nearly.
Perhaps it depended on who you asked.
A soft sigh wove its way through the gentle harp notes and Sig took the stairs faster, needing badly to see his wife. Hold her in his arms. He knew from experience that the aches and pains leftover from the games he’d just played on the road would melt away as soon as he was kissing her. She was the ultimate adrenaline hit and she only got more potent, more extraordinary over time. God, the world would have been a dark place without her.
Quietly, Sig turned the corner into their bedroom, a grin spreading wide across his mouth when he saw Chloe was engaging in her favorite pastime.
Naked harp playing.
The sunlight poured in through the window and highlighted the gilded instrument, the leafy design inlaid along the polished wood. It had taken a full year of negotiations, but he’d finally convinced Grace to sell him Chloe’s favorite harp. He’d paid dearly for the thing—and damn, it was worth every single penny to watch the enjoyment wash over Chloe’s features every time she sat down in front of the instrument.
“It reminds me of our story,” she’d said to him once. “It reminds me I was without you once. As I play the songs, you come back to me. Over and over. It’s like joy on repeat.”
How could Sig not buy the harp after hearing that?
Although, unlike Chloe, he did not like to think of a time when they weren’t together. A time when he’d almost left Boston to avoid perpetual heartbreak. He was more than happy to leave that pain in the past . . . and focus on the present.
And the future.
The curve of Chloe’s pregnant stomach came into view and he swallowed hard, winded by the sudden acceleration of his heart. What on earth had he done to deserve coming home to an angel playing the harp in his bedroom, their future son sleeping in her belly?
Unable to stand another minute without touching her, Sig kicked off the boots he’d forgotten to take off downstairs and padded across the carpet in his socks, approaching from the side so he wouldn’t startle her. To his surprise, though, she didn’t jolt or gasp when he came into view. She simply looked up at him and smiled.
“I knew you were there.”
His heart boomed being this close to his soft, sexy wife, all covered in sunshine. Lord. It was impossible to prepare himself for this level of perfection. “Did you?” he asked, thickly.
“I always know.” She graced the air with a few languid notes. “The house is happier when you’re in it. It turns into a home.”
“What about you? Are you happier when I’m home?” Sig asked, already knowing the answer, but craving the feeling of hearing Chloe say it out loud.
“Infinitely. I’m happy when I know you’re out doing what you love.” A few wistful notes, before she dropped her fingers from the strings and turned on the padded stool. “But I always want you here with me afterward. And every moment in between.”