Chapter 25
10 Years ago—22 years old
“Pumpkin, where do you want these?” Will steps in, carrying two tall brown boxes. Gorgeous blue-green eyes, reminiscent of stormy waters, peek halfway above the bundle in his arms.
A sagging line of tan paint threatens to drip off the roller in my hand, and I decide to place it down. I eye the loaded dining table of engagement presents from my step ladder and point to a place on the floor. “Just set them under the seats, if you can.”
“Alrighty.”
I love the tone of his voice.The continuous chipper ring in it brightens the worst of moods. My lips curl up as his slim muscles flex. His arms are exposed, thanks to a loose-fitting tank top. A vein pops out on his shoulder, bulging against smooth, milky skin as he sets the weighted boxes down, and I stop a puddle of drool from escaping my mouth.
Will is slim and trim. An avid runner and health nut who's determined not to get bulky. While a slender physique isn't something I usually drool over, it’s the perfect view when looking at Will. My fiancé is hot—in a cute way.
He stands up and scrubs over the top of ash blond hair with his hand. “Man, these gifts just keep coming, don't they?”
The familiar pitter-patter takes off in my chest as he looks at me. A wide, crooked grin, brimming with charm, plasters on his face, and I want to kiss him. My sunshine through the clouds. That’s what he is to me.
He’s the one who started off as a boy, wiping my tears away after any given fight with my mom, Pat, or Lonnie. Then over the years, he morphed into a man who learned the patterns of my soul. The only person who knew what I was thinking before anyone else fathomed I had an idea. A sweet protector who taught me about love, showed me I was worthy of receiving love, and lit my soul on fire along the way.
Will is simply perfect—and he’s mine. All mine until I die, which will hopefully be right in his arms.
The mountain of gifts piling high in the background draws my attention, and my heart floods with happy anticipation. “It's crazy; the wedding's so close.”
“I know.” The bright natural glow in his cheeks radiates. He studies my position, then extends his hand. “Here, let me help you down.”
Our hands clasp, and his other secures around my waist. I hop down with ease, right into his comforting embrace and fling my arms around his torso. My nose pushes against his chin, and I plant a kiss on that shaped jawline. The one sharper than a razor's edge. A feature I obsess over on the daily.
“How do you feel about becoming Mrs. Tinley?”
“First off,” I say, relishing in the sensation of his nose nuzzling my cheek. “While I feel too young to be called a Mrs., it's also about time.” I pull my head back and fake a scowl. “We've been together, what? Eight years?”
“Uhhh, yeah … we were fifteen when we started going out. Kids don’t get engaged, so enough with that nonsense.” His eyes twinkle, the corners creasing. “Also, what’s eight years compared to a lifetime?” He plants a chaste kiss on my forehead and hugs me tight.
“Mmm.” I won’t argue with that. Turning my head to the side, I rest my ear against his rib cage, soaking in the sound of his heartbeat. My pulse syncs with the rhythmic thunk; proof we’ve always been destined for one another. My eyes droop in euphoric harmony and peace.
“Vivie?” Gentle hands rub down my back, and I hear the note of seriousness touching his voice.
I look up. “Yes?”
“Love, I hate bringing this up again, but how about you reconsider inviting your mom and Pat to the wedding?”
A heavy sigh slips out.
“Vivian, love, I’m not—”
“No. No.” My voice drops to a mumble, and my gaze falls to the floor. I break the news I’ve recently failed to tell him. “I already did.”
“Oh. But why didn’t you let me know?”
“Because. They said no.”
“Wh-wh-what?” His mouth drops open. “What do you mean they said no?”
“They. Said. No.” My fingers smooth over his shoulders, and I move for the fridge. We could both use some water. “They told me they already made plans to visit Lonnie.”
“Man.” A hard huff leaves his lungs. “Pat I can accept. But your mom? She’s so lousy.” He smacks the top of his smooth forehead. “She’d rather go visit a screw up who's serving time for aggravated theft than come to her natural daughter's wedding. Incredible.”
Despite Will being upset, I'm not. I've never wanted my parents at the wedding. Will's always the one trying to make peace. I gave up long ago.
“Ehh.” I take a cooling guzzle of water, then abandon my glass on the countertop. Returning to Will, I snake my hands around his flat waist and press against him. “I didn't want them there, anyway. If you look at the big picture, I'm getting what I want.”
His shoulders bounce with a laugh. “And what would that be?”
“You.” My lips pull up into a beaming smile. “I'm marrying you, and that's all I've ever wanted.”
He moves in to plant a sweet, short kiss on my lips, but I pull him in, holding it longer until we meld, grinding against each other while soft moans shatter the quiet.
His cock twitches through his sweatpants, and I trail my palm down, anxious to hold him, love him. A tremble takes over his full mouth as I wrap my fingers around his hardening length—one small pump, and he groans, pulling away.
Will’s eyes are a hazy green, thanks to amorous dilation, a drunken looking smirk tugging at his mouth. “Why, Miss Grey,” he mumbles. “I believe you're trying to seduce me.”
“Hmm-mmm. I sure am.” I shimmy my chest into his stomach. “Want to go make out on the couch with me?”
“This close to the wedding?” His eyes widen. “Is that allowed?”
“We need practice.” I pull my shoulder up in a playful shrug. “Can’t have our guests grossed out by an inexperienced, awkward kiss. Plus, we might need more practice for the wedding night.”
“Good point.” He ponders a moment, then grabs my hand, cheeks bright, a full smile lighting up his face as he tugs me along. “Right! Couch, it is.”
I follow behind, giggling.
Whatever I did in life to deserve Will Tinley, I still don't know, but I'm grateful. I have no intention of ever letting him go.