Page 219 of The Reason I Married Him
“Are you worried?”
“No, not in the slightest. I covered all my bases. I’ll just have to deal with his cranky ass, but I’m not worried about that, just annoyed.”
“Well, I’m glad about that.” She adjusts the paper gift bag at our feet. “Thank you for the slippers, by the way. And the blanket. And the fuzzy socks. And the sweatshirt.”
I chuckle. “You’re welcome . . . again.”
“You didn’t have to buy me all of those things, you know.”
“Oh, I know, but now that you’re my wife, don’t you think I should be able to spoil you?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I don’t get the dynamics sometimes. Like . . . am I really your wife? Feels more pretend to me. Are we, I don’t know . . . dating? It’s so backward, it’s confusing.”
I pull her in close to my chest and say, “You’re my wife, we’re dating, and we’re seeing where this goes. Simple as that.”
“You make it seem simple, but it doesn’t feel simple.”
“What doesn’t feel simple about it?” I ask.
“Well, I feel like there is so much I don’t know about you.”
“Probably,” I answer. “What do you want to know?”
“Your parents, you said they eloped, and they wouldn’t be mad about missing your wedding. Were you close with them?”
“Yes,” I answer as I run my hand over her shoulder, keeping her plastered to me. To my satisfaction, she leans her head against my chest and snuggles in close. “Since it was just us four, we had a strong bond. I know it’s different from what you experienced growing up, but my parents were there for everything. I don’t know, I feel bad talking about it.”
“Because I had a shit father who abused us?” she asks. “Don’t feel bad. It’s not your fault. I want to hear about your childhood and the stories you carry close to your chest. It will make me believe that there are good people out there.”
“There are,” I say, kissing the top of her head. “Very good people, just like you and your siblings.”
“Thank you,” she says softly. “That means a lot, but tell me about your parents.”
“Well, they met in high school,” I say. “Broke up in college. During their senior year, my mom started dating my dad’s friend from high school, which made him incredibly jealous. He told his friend he wasn’t allowed to date her. It became a huge ordeal, and they actually got into a fight.”
“Who?” Aubree asks.
“My dad and his friend. They had to be pulled apart. My dad broke his friend’s nose.”
“Oh my God,” Aubree says. “He was really, really mad.”
“Yeah, pissed. That night, he asked my mom out.”
“What did she say?” Aubree asks.
“Told him to go to hell.” I chuckle, thinking about the story. “It wasn’t until two years later when they were back in their hometown for the holidays that they ran into each other. They were both single, and Dad took advantage of it. According to Mom, he wooed her. Brought her around to all of these Christmas activities, including ice-skating and cocoa in front of a bonfire. And when they just so happened to be under a mistletoe, Dad kissed her. After that, they were never separated again. A month later, they eloped, and well, they’re still together to this day and madly in love. They always told me that when you know it’s the right person, you know.” I kiss the side of her head.
“Are you subtly trying to tell me after a few weeks together, a marriage, and some sex that I’m the right person?”
I laugh. “Well, when you put it like that . . .”
She bumps her shoulder with mine. “We will see where this all goes, but I appreciate your enthusiasm.”
“That’s what I’m here for, babe, to get you to fall head over heels in love with me.”
“I wish you luck. I’m a tough shell to crack.”
“I’ve noticed,” I say. “But no way in hell am I giving up.”
