Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
She saw the parts of me I tried to keep hidden. The hesitation, the scars, the fear that I’d fail again. But she’s still here. She stayed. She didn’t ask me to be perfect. She just asked me to be honest. Somewhere along the way, loving her stopped feeling like a risk and became the only thing that made sense.
My chest rises with a slow, steady breath as nerves twist in my stomach. I’m terrified of what I’m about to do. Not because I doubt her. I’m terrified because this matters. She matters. Because I know exactly what I’m offering and exactly what I’m asking for in return.
My heart for hers.
I tighten my grip on the ring and let a small smile tug at my lips.
Today, I’m going to ask Eden to marry me.
And for the first time in a long time, I’m not running from what my heart wants.
I’m choosing it.
I’m choosing her.
The stage is set. All I need is my girl. I told her to meet me here after her interview. She finally realized what she wants to do for a career, and it’s not cleaning houses. I’m so fucking proud of her for the path she’s chosen, and I know that she’s going to get the job.
The sound of her car pulling up has me standing taller. I release the ring I’m gripping like a lifeline and pull my hands out of my pockets. She thinks she’s meeting me here to get some measurements for furniture, because this house is massive, and we’re going to need more furniture.
Exhaling a deep breath, I tell myself everything is going to be okay as I make my way to the front door and step out onto the front porch, pulling the door closed, hiding what’s waiting for us inside.
“Hey.” She grins as she makes her way toward me. “I just passed Sloane and Camden taking a walk. I love that we all live so close.”
I open my arms, and she walks into my embrace. I hold her tightly, hoping like hell she can’t hear the thunderous beat of my heart, or feel the slight tremble coursing through my veins.
“It’s a nice neighborhood,” I reply, my voice cracking.
She pulls back to peer up at me. Her hand settles on my cheek as her blue eyes study me. “You okay?”
I take her hand from my cheek and press my lips to her palm. “I’ve never been better in my entire life, baby. You’re here with me in our new home. Nothing could be better than this.”
“Something’s different,” she muses.
“Me. I’m different. I’m a better man because you love me.”
“Foster,” she breathes, rising on her toes to press her lips to mine.
“Come on inside. We have some work to do.” I lace her fingers with mine and lead her into the house.
Epilogue Eden
Eden
* * *
Foster takes my hand and leads me into the house, his grip a little tighter than usual. I can feel the slight tremor in his fingers, and worry starts to fester. He’s off. He’s not being distant, just different, and that worries me. It’s almost as if he’s bracing for something. I wait for him to ask how the interview went, wait for the normal rhythm between us to settle in, but he doesn’t say a word.
The foyer is dark when we step inside, shadows pooling in the corners, but the air is thick with a warm vanilla scent that wraps around me like a blanket. It’s comforting and unfamiliar all at once.
“Are you baking something?” I ask, mostly because I need to break the silence, as my chest feels too tight.
He chuckles softly, though it sounds a little strained. “No, baby, I’m not baking.” He slows, then stops completely, turning me toward him. I can’t name his expression in the low light, but I can feel his focus on me. “Can you close your eyes for me?”
My stomach flips. “Foster, what’s going on?”
“Please?” he says, and there’s something raw in that single word that makes my heart stumble.
I nod. There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for him, and whatever this is, it matters. I close my eyes, my lashes brushing my cheeks just as I feel him move behind me. His hand gently covers my eyes, warm and familiar.
“No peeking,” he rasps, his breath close to my ear, while his other arm slips around my waist. He guides me forward, our steps awkward and careful, until he murmurs, “Stop here.”
I obey, my senses sharpening in the darkness. His lips press softly to my neck, sending a shiver down my spine, and then he’s gone. The loss of his touch is immediate and startling. My pulse pounds as the air shifts around me, as if the room itself is holding its breath. This moment feels heavy. It feels important in a way I can’t explain. That’s when realization washes over me. He’s nervous.