Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“Yes.”
The weight on my chest plummets to my stomach. “About me moving in?”
In a rush, he sits up and stares at me wide-eyed. “What? No. I’m freaking out about not having enough room and practically living on top of each other. Maybe … maybe we should look for somewhere with more space.”
I rub my sore chest in relief. “This is fine for now. If we can endure this for a year—two tops—and put aside what we normally pay for rent, we’ll have a down payment for a place in Jersey or Brooklyn.”
Maddox gasps. “You dare suggest I move to Jersey? You really are a monster.”
“I know. I’m the worst,” I say dryly. “Jersey is not that bad.” But hey, I should be thankful he’s only worried about the Jersey part and not the sharing a mortgage part.
“How can you call yourself a New Yorker?”
I ignore him and lift my shirt to wipe the sweat off my face from lugging boxes all day. When the shirt falls back in place and I lock eyes with Maddox, his tongue darts out and wets his top lip.
“Like what you see?” I mock.
“Mmhmm. You should come over here and share this ginormous bed with lots of space … oh, wait …” He gestures to the crap surrounding him.
I try not to laugh. “Sarcasm isn’t good for you, you know.”
“Lies. Sarcasm is great. You can say anything and pretend you’re joking. People think I’m hilarious when in reality I’m just an asshole.”
“Yeah, but you’re my asshole … That sounded extremely wrong.”
Maddox snorts. “Maybe that should be in our wedding vows.”
His words throw me, and when I take a step backward, my foot gets stuck on the lip of a box and I go crashing to the floor—what’s left of the floor anyway. My hip digs into the corner of a box, and a sharp stabbing pain fills my head. I still occasionally get residual effects from the concussion. Doctors say it should go away soon—along with the daily headaches, thank God.
“Shit.” Maddox is by my side in an instant, hovering over me and cradling my face with his hands. “Are you okay? Is it the concussion? Are you dizzy?”
“I’m fine,” I grumble and sit up. “I tripped over a stupid box because you said wedding vows as if it’s a possibility. You shouldn’t do that to a guy.”
He leans back on his knees in front of me. “Why wouldn’t it be a possibility?”
“Because you’re Maddox.”
“Like that’s a reason?”
“Let’s look at the facts.” I run through the reasons, keeping score with my fingers. “You ran away from your hometown so you didn’t have to marry Chastity. You wouldn’t sit still during her wedding ceremony and admitted to feeling more comfortable in a graveyard than in a church. You could barely get the boyfriend label out of your mouth at first, so I’d hate to see what you’d be like with the word husband. And you practically broke up with me when I suggested we live together.”
“But that was before.”
I shrug. “I just figured being with you meant no wedding in the future, and I’m okay with that. I want a life with you. That doesn’t mean it has to include marriage.”
“I want to marry you, though.”
I replay his words in my head over again, because they don’t make sense. I’m not ready for that, so surely he can’t be. We’ve only been together a couple of months. That’s way too fast, and—
“Fuck, I don’t mean now,” he says with a laugh. “Or soon. Geez, role reversal. You look like you’re going to pass out. I mean for the first time in my life, I see a future with someone and want the possibility of spending the rest of our lives together.”
His words shouldn’t surprise me—Maddox is always changing the expected—but the fact he’s even thought about the long run makes me love him even more.
“I don’t think getting married is necessary,” he continues. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to do it. Especially when I know you’d like to get married someday. The operative word being someday. Isn’t marriage the whole point of a relationship? It’s like the end goal or whatever.”
“I never … I …” I don’t know how to get the words out. “I never expected you to change who you are for me. The end goal can be anything we want it to be. House, marriage … kids, if you want them. Or not. We can choose our own future, and it doesn’t have to fit in a box or have a label or match society’s expectations.”
“I thought you liked labels?”
“Maybe you taught me labels don’t matter. What does matter is you. And me. Nothing else.”
Maddox’s eyes fill with awe as if I just gave him the world. I’ll gladly make it my life’s purpose to keep that look on his face. “Nothing else,” he murmurs.