Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
I wrapped my arms around his neck. “First of all, it’s not lingerie. I’ll be commando under my pretty white dress this afternoon. You’re not the only one who doesn’t want to waste time removing another layer of clothing. Secondly, we have to get through the dinner with our friends and family before you rip anything off. And lastly…” I brushed my lips to his. “I’ve belonged to you since the day you showed up at my mother’s house and won over all of the women in my family.”
Hunter’s face softened. “I just can’t wait until it’s official, Natalia Delucia.”
“Me, too. But let me go get your gift. Izzy’s going to be here in about an hour, and then the hair-and-makeup guy and Anna will be here a little while after that.”
I’d left his present in the truck, so I extricated myself from my soon-to-be husband’s arms and headed back outside. I stopped with my hand on the front doorknob and turned back. “Oh, and Izzy is bringing a friend. So, be nice.”
“A friend? Her name better be Mary, Martha, or Sally.”
I shook my head. “His name is Gaige. And she really seems to like him. So try not to scare him away like you did the last one.” We couldn’t even talk about what he’d said to the guy he’d caught making out with Izzy on Parents’ Day at UCLA without getting into a fight all over again. Turns out Hunter was even more protective than Izzy’s father. Thankfully, Garrett and I had struck an agreement on shared custody of Izzy while she finished her last two years of high school back in New York. Once she’d graduated and decided to go to UCLA, the timing was finally right to make my move out to California. I had everything I could ever dream of here—my best friend, my daughter, a beautiful home, a great new job, and the man of my dreams.
Hunter mumbled, “I’ll gauge how hard I’m going to kick this one’s ass.”
I ignored him and headed to the car for his gift. I’d thrown a blanket over the cage to keep him warm, but it also served as a wrapping of sorts. Inside, Hunter’s face was definitely showing confusion as he watched me drag in a two-foot-by-three-foot rectangular box covered with a blanket.
“Happy wedding day!” I smiled and set the covered cage down.
“You got me a dollhouse?”
I laughed because that was a pretty damn good guess. It did look like a dollhouse. But the noise that squalled from inside the cage confirmed it was anything but.
“Fottiti!”
Hunter jumped back. “What the…?”
I cracked up at the big man’s reaction. Lifting the blanket off, I revealed his wedding day gift—a giant scarlet macaw. It was the most vibrantly colored bird I’d ever seen, with bright blue, yellow, and red feathers.
“This is Arnold.”
“You bought me a bird?” Hunter’s face lit up like a ten-year-old boy.
I nodded. “Figured it was about time you put all those birdhouses to use. You said you always wanted one growing up, but your mom wouldn’t let you have one.”
“They can live, like, fifty years. She knew she didn’t have that long.”
I opened the cage and put my hand in for Arnold to perch on. He jumped on right away. “Well, you do have another fifty years, Mr. Delucia. We have another fifty years to take care of Arnold.”
Hunter gazed at me. “We really could have that long together, couldn’t we?”
“I hope so.”
Hunter leaned in to kiss me, and just before our lips touched, Arnold squawked again.
“Fottiti.”
“What is he saying? For titty? I think this bird was meant to be mine.”
I laughed. “Oh, no. He’s saying fottiti. There’re two things that made me buy Arnold. Fottiti is one of them. When I started looking at birds, I visited a bunch of shops. Last week I was in Tropical Paradise checking out the cages when I ran across Arnold. He kept yelling that word, but I had no idea what it meant … until my mother happened to call and hear it in the background. Apparently, fottiti is Italian for go fuck yourself. My mother was horrified, but I thought it was hysterical. Turns out Arnold here is eight years old. His previous owners—Giuseppe and Gianna Moretti—sold him back to the pet store because they were getting divorced. I thought poor Arnold here could use a happy home, and we could teach him some nice words to go with his singular vocabulary.”
“It’s fitting that we have a bird that curses in Italian.”
“Isn’t it?”
“What was the other thing?”
“Huh?”
“You said there were two things that made you buy him.”
“Oh!” I reached into my back pocket. “This is the freakiest thing. It sealed the deal that Arnold was meant to be our bird.”
I handed Hunter the paperwork the store had given me. The top page was the bill of sale. It listed all the relevant information, including the bird’s name, sex, breed, his sire and dam, and … the bird’s date of birth.