Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
“Maybe…I don’t know, Ben,” I say as softly as I can in the din of the bar. “Maybe that’s not a bad thing, you know? Maybe a little Norah Ellis in your lives is exactly what you need.”
I know Josie Ellis is exactly what I’ve always needed in mine.
Because for as much as love can break us…it fixes us even more.
Bennett considers me closely before sucking back the rest of the glass and leaning into his hands. I knock gently on the bar directly in front of him and leave him to his thoughts to serve the crowd on the other side.
I think mindlessly about Josie on the water tower yesterday and of the unhappy ending we had nearly five years ago.
I think of the paths of our lives and how it appears they’re about to intersect a whole hell of a lot more.
I sure hope we don’t crash and burn again.
Lord knows, we’re still trying to survive the first time.
Before The Moment: Part 4
The Honeymoon
26
Josie
Thursday, September 22nd
Flickering candles line the cobblestone sidewalk through the woods, a tiny, cozy cabin just ahead in the dimming light of day. We’re a couple hours outside of Red Bridge, close to the Canadian border, and Clay carries the bag of toiletries and essentials he packed for both of us behind me.
My heart is in my throat, its normal delicate positioning only disturbed by the overwhelming feeling of joy. Clay cared for the details of today like a man who’s been planning for years, though the execution was done in mere days.
On the drive up here, he shared stories about ring shopping with Summer and Bennett, and that Summer had decreed my ring as “pitty,” thus finalizing it as the one.
I took Clay’s suggestion and didn’t call Grandma, but it’ll be a few hours before she worries about me missing—she’s used to me disappearing with Clay and ending up at his place at this point. But I did manage to text Harold about missing my shift, and he was surprisingly understanding.
I’ve resolved to let go now and enjoy my wedding night with my new husband.
My husband. Holy hell.
“Clay, this is stunning,” I whisper, climbing the stone steps and turning back to look at his handsome face in the soft light.
He’s as modest as I’ve ever seen him, his smile collected in a way that’s peaceful. He’s normally so vibrant, so big and over the top and exploding all over the place.
“What are you thinking?” I ask as he stares at me rather than answering.
The corners of his mouth curl up serenely. “I’m thinking I’m the luckiest guy on the whole of this amazing planet. I’m thinking my wife is beautiful. I’m thinking that if I’d known it would feel this amazing to marry you, I would have done it the first night we talked and I chased you into my parking lot and kissed you. I’m thinking I’m going to spend the next several hours showing you how much I love you. I’m thinking it can’t possibly go up from here.”
His words make my heart beat faster, and I can’t decide if I want to sob tears of joy right here on the porch of this cabin he rented for us or jump into his arms.
“You’re my forever, Josie,” he says. “Thank you for choosing me back.”
I choose the latter, rushing forward and launching myself into his arms, and he has to step back on a foot to stay upright. I wrap my arms around his strong shoulders and put my lips to his, and we disappear into an otherworldly place. A place where our kiss is the air and our connection is the water. A place where we only breathe life when we breathe into each other. A place where we can’t get enough, but it doesn’t make us gluttons.
A place I want to stay forever.
Clay lifts me higher, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me the rest of the way inside. Small birds sing and chirp, and the buzz of falling night surrounds us in the forest. We kiss and touch and caress our hands over each other’s skin, taking our time as Clay walks slowly through the little house to the bed in the back.
He lays me down gently in the middle of the fluffy white comforter, and I pull him down along with me. He sets the bag with our essentials to the side and holds my eyes, and I revel in the intensity of opening myself to him without looking away.
It’s a connection unlike any other, a vulnerability I didn’t know could feel so good. I don’t hide or mask, and I don’t expect it from him. “Clay Harris, I think you might just be the most beautiful man to ever live.”
He frames my face with his large hand and dusts back an escaping curl, sweeping the pad of his thumb first over my cheek and then my lips.