The Bride (The Boss 3)

Neil went to the wall of cubbies on the back of one of the shower walls. A slender bottle was already there. He took it down, turned it in his hand as if reading the label. “I had a feeling bubbles would be required.”

“Awwww!” I unhooked my bra and tossed it aside.

“Trees were not the only things I planted.” He kissed the top of my head as I took the bottle from his hands. “I’ll go and supervise the movers.”

“Okay. Don’t do everything. I promise, once I’ve been in here an hour, hour and half, I’ll help.” I leaned against him and tilted my face up for a proper kiss.

He obliged me and headed for the door.

“Hit the lock, so no sexy mover accidentally comes in here and seduces me!” I called after him.

Alone with my bathtub, I sank to my knees and trailed my hand through the water. “Oh baby. I’ve missed you so, so much.”

When the warm, bubbly water enveloped me, I swear, it was as close to a religious experience as I’d ever had. I leaned my head back on the rim and sighed happily. Though it was still strange knowing I was going to live in a seaside palace, wherever I had my bathtub, that was home.

* * * *

By the time the house was mostly unpacked and the movers had left, Neil and I were exhausted. We’d made up our new bed with the sheets from the apartment that I had refused to wash—I was hoping the familiar scent would put me at ease, much like a dog being boarded—we lit the natural stone fireplace in the den and collapsed on the couch that was newly ours.

“It feels totally bizarre. This is someone else’s furniture.” I ran my toes over Neil’s big bare foot and relished the feeling of his arm around my back, his chest beneath my cheek. Even though his sweater was kind-of scratchy, there was no place else I would have rather been.

“Trust me, it’s ours. We certainly paid enough for it.”

That was weird. Another time, Neil might have said, “I paid enough for it,” and the change jarred me into a realization. One of the reasons I had been feeling so strange about spending “our” money was that while he insisted over and over that it really was “our” money, he only ever talked about paying for stuff himself.

I sat up a little. “You know, I think this is the first time you’ve ever said that ‘we?

?? paid for something?”

He sighed. “I know. I’m sorry, I’m trying to break that habit.”

I leaned up and kissed his cheek. “You’re doing fine. It doesn’t help that I’m constantly saying, ‘don’t call it our money.’ And you really did pay for it. And I love it.”

“Yes, like a terrier, I become easily confused at conflicting commands. But I’m very glad you like the house.”

I sat up, remembering, “Hey! Do you know what I read on Fetlife this morning?”

“Oh, I’m glad you were on Fetlife this morning, rather than helping me with the move,” he grumbled.

“Help with what?” I rolled my eyes at him. “All you did was stand around and glower at them.”

“What did you read on Fetlife that was so fascinating?”

“This thing about jelly sex toys. They’re apparently gross and unsafe.” I scrunched up my nose. “I’m going to really miss that big purple one.”

“Well, I’m sure we can find safer toys.” He kissed the side of my head and snorted. “Now, whether or not we’ll find a wealth of sex shops in the Hamptons…”

I giggled. “Life is going to be so different out here, isn’t it?”

“A slower pace, most definitely.” He pulled me a little closer.

I didn’t mind the idea. “After the year we just had, I’m ready for slow. Like, stationary. Not moving at all.”

We sat in silence, me all snuggled up at his side, him idly stroking my hair against my back. Then he said, “It doesn’t seem real yet. I keep thinking we’ll go home. But we are home.”

My stomach grumbled, loudly.

Neil groaned. “We’re home, in a house that has no food. Groceries will be delivered tomorrow, but I didn’t think of tonight.”