Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
As we drive and I list places I know she’d like to see, I can’t help but pick up on something still eating at her. Something I don’t bring up until much later after I’ve made love to her again.
“Is something on your mind?” I ask her, smiling when she holds up a hand, still waiting to get her breath back after her third screaming orgasm.
“I love you, Mark. You know that,” she starts. “And I do love Australia, I really do.”
“But?” I ask, preparing myself to follow through on my vows. To love her and to protect her. To support her, no matter what she chooses.
Melissa looks thoughtful for a moment. “But I just… I guess I’m trying to say that I still want to call America home as well for our kids and us …” she says, trailing off at the last part, making my ears prick up, and my smile widens ear to ear.
Kids.
Just hearing her say it makes me wanna fill her up all over again and keep filling her until I know she has a tiny life inside her belly. I’m practically counting the minutes until she’s carrying our child, and knowing why she wants to live here and the States is clear to me, even if she doesn’t think it is.
“You want the family home—the one you promised your mom you’d keep—filled with your own family. I get it,” I observe, relieved because I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to bring it up myself. It’s only been a few weeks, and Melissa’s had a complete life change. Knowing she wants exactly what I want only cements everything, and the fact she told me under her own steam only makes me prouder than ever of her.
“We can have home be wherever and however you want,” I promise her. “As long as you’re with me, I am home,” I remind her.
“Oh, Mark… I love you,” she purrs, nuzzling into me before I kiss her long and tender.
“I love you too, Melissa… more than words could ever say.”
EPILOGUE
THREE MONTHS LATER
Melissa
“It’s okay! I’m fine!” I call out over the shrill sound of the smoke alarm.
My attempt at domestic bliss, cooking a lamb roast for my new Australian husband, hasn’t exactly gone to plan.
Mark was reluctant at first to let me loose in our enormous kitchen. He does so much for me all the time. It was the least I could think of to show him how much I appreciate him—finding a different way to show him, anyway. I know my screaming down the house every time he makes love to me is enough for him, but I want to get to his heart through his stomach as well as his greatest asset.
Only one problem with that. I suck at cooking. Nobody told me it was so complicated.
He’s hung back all afternoon, not even minding when I shoo him away, but once he smells smoke and the alarm goes off, I know I’ve done it. He launches into protector mode, treating a teensy little oven fire like a towering inferno, scooping me to safety after covering the pan with a huge lid and carrying me out onto the balcony before he switches the alarms off.
“Well, at least we know the fire alarm works,” he says, coming back out, waving the lingering smoke and smell of burnt meat away from his face.
“Sorry, Mark,” I tell him, really meaning it. “I thought I could do something special… to show you—” He’s already hooked his huge arm around my waist, pulling me close and only needing to know one thing.
“Just tell me you’re all right. Tell me you didn’t hurt yourself,” he says, his voice concerned, not even minding I’ve ruined his kitchen and our dinner.
A special dinner. Well, it was supposed to be.
“I’m fine. Really,” I tell him, but I feel myself swooning a little. I’m light-headed and dizzy.
“I’ve just been so forgetful lately,” I murmur, feeling silly, but Mark’s nothing but concerned, and he helps me over to the outdoor setting, pressing my shoulders to make me sit as he squats in front of me.
“You don’t have to do anything special, Melissa. You are special. You impress me most by just being you. I love you,” he reminds me, kissing my hand.
I don’t know why him telling me for the thousandth time makes me so emotional, but I guess now’s as good a time as any to tell him.
“Mark?”
His eyes focus on mine, urging me on with his need-to-know look. He knows something’s up. He always does, plus we keep nothing from each other, and this kinda does involve both of us.
“I’m… I’m pregnant,” I stammer, feeling like I could cry, laugh, and scream for joy all at once when I see his expression shift.
This is the news I know he’s wanted from day one, and having done the math, it would have been my first time—that first magical afternoon with him when I conceived.