Page 172 of Perfect Satisfaction

“He’s the only one who knows the exact contents of my father’s will. None of the rest of the sheep—damn, I mean the legal team do. You’re rubbing off on me, you know.”

“I know. Thank God.”

My eyes flutter open to find Arek smiling down at me, eyes tender. “As messed up as my brother is making things?”

“Sula, you could have a hundred brothers.”

“God forbid,” I shudder.

“I will never stop being grateful for the fact you’re in love with me. Still.”

“Always,” I whisper.

He holds my gaze as he brushes his lips against mine and in them, I swear I find a brand new light—a perfect stella nova.

One that’s only for me.

Yes, I absolutely made the right choice when I chose love.

CHAPTEREIGHTY-SIX

The only stores that should have Christmas merchandise out already are craft stores.

End of.

—Moore You Want

October

Arek traces a pattern on my stomach.“What do you normally do for the holidays?”

“Go to Brendan’s or JB’s. You?”

“Spend it with Gramps.”

I tap a nail on his hand and begin trying to solve a problem I’ve never had before—an abundance of family. Then my heart sags. “Well, with me not speaking to JB, that may not be a problem this year.”

Arek pulls me closer before murmuring against my hair, “I’m certain it will work out.”

In the attic bedroom, as close as we are to the stars, I can only hope he’s right. As much of a pain in my ass he is, I miss JB.

A lot.

But we haven’t spoken in weeks. Not even for work.

We’re visiting his grandfather for one of the last weekends we’ll be able to at the Maine cabin. Much to my disgruntlement and Arek’s amusement, my name still hasn’t been picked for dinner at Erin French’s restaurant in Freedom, so Edward mocked us throughout the meal asking, “What are you going to feed your kids?”

Before I could answer, Arek did, “Takeout. I turned out well enough on it.”

“Christ. Another generation raised on Styrofoam boxes.” Edward grumbled, winking at me as he held his hand over the chef’s knife so I didn’t injure myself while chopping vegetables for stew.

That’s when I learned a whole new facet to my husband. He jerked his head at his grandfather and said, “Out of my way, old man.”

Right before he wrapped his arms around me and diced the vegetables perfectly.

“Arek! We’ve been eating out for months!” I yelped.

“That’s because I don’t have time to cook like this in New York.” He quirked a brow. “Do you?”