Total pages in book: 197
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Yeah, she still looked every inch a fucking queen.
He met his wife in the middle of the dance floor, and the second he had his arm wrapped around her waist, and her hand cupped in his as the song changed to the one she’d picked for this dance, the rest of the world disappeared. Her glittering green eyes watched him as they moved in a familiar step around the floor.
Cross felt like ... he needed to imprint everything about this moment. He wasn’t sure why, but he did. There was so much that happened over the day, really. He’d never stopped moving, going from one thing to the next, and constantly running for this or that. Weddings were exhausting, honestly.
Right then, though ...
He just wanted to remember this.
How she looked.
Her smile.
That pink tint to her cheeks.
The way her fingers tightened around his.
All of it.
Cross was so caught up in those thoughts that before he’d realized it, the majority of the song was over, and the Dj was inviting others to join them on the floor, too. He’d not said one word to Catherine the entire time, and she hadn’t spoken to him, either. But maybe they really didn’t need to.
Sometimes, a silent moment was better.
“How much longer before we’re out of here?” he dared to ask.
Catherine laughed. “Patience, Cross.”
Yes, because patience was exactly what he was known for.
Not that it mattered.
The end would soon come, and he would get his wife the hell out of here so they could finally start the rest of their lives together. He could deal with a couple more hours pretending like he was going to share this woman with the rest of them.
But the very second he knew they could get out?
That’s what he was going to do.
Like Catherine could read his mind, she laughed again and repeated, “Patience.”
Sure, sure.
“It is what it is, Catty.”
“Mmhmm.”
Yep.
And he was what he was.
Never gonna change.
Dad
“Can I? Can I do it, Papa?”
Catherine followed the voice of her four-year-old son, letting it lead her to the rear French doors of their three-level home that took them to the veranda. Standing in the doorway, her gaze scanned the large backyard at the same time she heard Cross reply to Naz, “Yeah, jump. I’ll catch you.”
Jump?
She didn’t have to search for long before she found the source of their conversation and the fucking answer to her question. There stood her husband, fifteen or more feet down on the ground from where their son currently waited. In this fledgling treehouse. Right then, it was nothing more than the bones of what would be the treehouse. Likely by the weekend, it would be finished once all the guys came back over to help Cross put in the walls, the roof, and a better way up than the boards nailed into the side of the tree and a plank they walked up like they were currently using.
The better question, though?
Why was Naz up there?
They had already agreed the kid wouldn’t be playing in the treehouse until it was fully safe and ready to do so. Hell, the thing didn’t even have walls.
He shouldn’t be up there.
Never mind talking about jumping.
The second the kid let it slip that he and Cece might like a treehouse, Cross had shit planned out before he laid his head down that same night to sleep. Though he held everything in his life in high regard, the one thing he took most serious was being a dad.
Their dad.
Catherine loved him so much for that. Her father had been the same way as she grew up—always willing to put less important things aside so that his kids never felt like they were an afterthought to Dante. It was the same reason why she knew that if today, or on any other day, the only thing she wanted to do was call and talk to her dad, she could do just that. Dante wouldn’t make her think anything else.
Their kids would be the same with Cross, she knew. Catherine didn’t think he understood how much that would mean to them in the future, but someday he would. Hopefully.
“Are you gonna jump, or what?” she heard Cross call.
“Yeah! Like, fly, right?”
Cross chuckled, his gaze darting toward the house before snapping right back to where Naz was still hanging dangerously close to the edge of the platform. Fat too high. If he noticed his wife standing at the rear doors, she couldn’t tell. Not that it mattered. Surely, Cross wasn’t really going to let him jump down from there.
“Hurry, before your Ma—”
Catherine opened her mouth to shout out to Cross and Naz that nobody was going to be jumping down from that goddamn treehouse. But she didn’t get the chance to say anything at all. Naz took three quick steps back in his little Timberland boots, and then he darted forward just as fast. He didn’t even think about it. Didn’t look the least bit scared or worried. In fact, he was nothing more than a blur of a smile with arms stretched wide as he flew off the side of the platform and fell fast to his waiting father before.