Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
In fact, I’d never have moved from that spot, if I could have helped it. The Conservatory could’ve sold tickets to see me and Diesel all wrapped up in each other for the next fifty years or so, and I’d have considered it a life well lived…
But Miss Marigold had other ideas.
“Baabaabaa!” She patted my face determinedly, trying to wriggle off my lap. “Baa!”
I pulled back from Diesel just enough to see him smile, his eyes warm on mine. “I feel like Miss Thing is ready to go see more butterflies.”
“Miss Thing has no concept of timing,” I sighed. I reached up to push his floppy dark-gold hair out of his eyes and felt suddenly giddy that I had the right to touch him in that small way.
“This is our life now,” Diesel said wryly. “We’ll have to get used to it.”
I grinned hugely. Just hearing him say those words was like having Christmas come in September. “We will,” I confirmed.
Diesel scrambled to his feet and reached out a hand to help me up while I held Marigold. He packed up the last few things in the carriage, while I swung the baby high and listened to her giggle. It felt like a lot longer than forty-eight hours since I’d seen her, and my heart soared at the idea that I’d never have to go that long without seeing her again. There was no way we’d lose the custody case—not when Diesel and I stood together as a united front, with Uncle Beau’s wonderfully sharky lawyers at our back.
I carried Marigold in my arms as we trudged up the grassy incline to the temperature-controlled glass building where the majority of the Conservatory’s tropical specimens lived. Diesel walked beside me, pushing the empty carriage one-handed while keeping one hand tucked firmly at the center of my back. Along the way, we talked about everything and nothing—butterflies, and the weirdly colored egg Miss Sara (the pullet) laid, and whether Gil or Ava would inform the town about our marriage first (we decided it would be Ava), and whether we should call Miss Sara (the not-pullet) to tell her I’d be moving out sooner than later, and how to make sure Gil got the message that I was Not Interested At All.
Just like earlier in the truck, I loved that we could talk about everything and nothing together. I loved that with his hand on my back, the boring minutiae of our lives seemed really fun and exciting, and the anxiety-inducing parts didn’t seem so bad at all. I’d never felt like part of a team before, not even when I was with…
I paused just outside the front door and bit my lip.
“Baby?” Diesel asked, a quizzical smile on his face. “You good?”
I gave him a little nod, and he frowned.
“You sure? You’re not—” He hesitated. “You’re not having second thoughts?”
“Never,” I whispered. I reached out my free hand to wrap around his waist and pull him against me. Diesel seemed to like my claiming touches as much as I liked giving them. “Not ever. Just… taking it all in. You know? Committing it to memory.”
“Oh, yeah.” Diesel grinned and his voice was soft. He reached out a hand to cup my jaw. “Yeah, I know.”
God, Diesel made me feel so cherished. The idea that he could doubt himself—doubt us—for even one second because of my hesitation killed me. I’d let Payne Geller take enough happy days from my life, and I would not let him claim one more.
So, after a smiling attendant ushered us inside the warm, muggy exhibit, and we’d walked a little way down a stone path, I pulled Diesel over to a low stone bench where we could have a little privacy while Marigold sat in the carriage nearby, watching the butterflies stopping to sample the fruits laid out for them and babbling happily.
“I’d like to, um… to tell you a story.” I swallowed. “I mean, not a big deal, exactly. Just… you shared about Beth, and it meant so much to me that you did, so I… wanted to tell you a little bit more about me. About my past. If you wanted to know.”
Diesel blinked. “Is that a trick question? Parrish, I always want to know about you, I just never felt like I could ask.”
I laughed a little. “Well, you can. You can ask me anything, anytime. But, um.” I rubbed my hands together in my lap. “Gosh, I don’t know where to begin, exactly.”
Diesel laid one large, tattooed hand over mine. “Anywhere you like is fine. There’s no rush.”
I nodded. God, life was so much better with this man by my side. “I dated someone pretty seriously a couple of years ago,” I blurted. “We were engaged, actually.”
“Okay. Wow.” Diesel frowned. “Since it didn’t happen, I’ll automatically assume that he’s an idiot.”