Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 107(@200wpm)___ 85(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 107(@200wpm)___ 85(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)
I scream through clenched teeth as I quicken my pace, reaching for that orgasm. And when it hits me, my toes curl, back arches, legs quake. He grabs my hips and sinks deeply into me. I feel him getting thicker, and with a growl, he fills me with his come.
“Now we just need to do the walk of shame to our front door,” I whisper.
We laugh and his arms tighten around me.
God, I love this man.
EPILOGUE
DANI
I’m doing it. I’m finally doing it.
I can’t believe it. I’m about to open my very own flower shop, and I still pinch myself every day, wondering if this is a dream and if I’m about to wake up. Please don’t wake me up. Please don’t.
It’s the old business I used to work for. The owner—a nice, kind 80-ish lady who moved back to Ireland—asked me if I was interested in taking over and buying it from her. I wasn’t sure at first because I just gave birth and still took online classes, but Damien being Damien, he supported me all the way.
He never ran out of cases to handle, but no matter how exhausted he was at the end of the day, he would take our baby, Dylan. He’d feed our boy, play with him, and tuck him to bed while I did my research and emailed suppliers. Several times, I walked in on him asleep on the couch beside the crib, and the sight made my heart swell.
At six months old, Dylan is starting to look like his father—with dark hair and brown eyes. He can be a handful sometimes, just like every other little boy, but then he goes and presses his cute lips to my cheek and we both forget he just threw a slice of orange at me.
“Okay. The pastel pink daisies and pink Casablanca lilies to the right storefront window, the pinkish purple tulips, red roses, and pink carnations to the left.”
I watch as the three young girls—all of whom were in the compound with me—rush to follow my instructions. We’re doing last-minute touch-ups and finalizing the interior for tomorrow’s opening—or reopening since we really just changed the sign and moved the arrangements a little bit. It didn’t take a lot of work because the previous owner gave me free rein in decorating and designing it while I was still her employee.
Satisfied with how everything looks, I nod. “Great job, girls. Tomorrow’s our big day, so go home, get some sleep, and we hope it will be a busy opening day.”
I watch them leave and crane my neck to the back room, looking for Damien and Dylan, when I hear voices near the bouquet arrangement samples.
“Did you know? There are more than 6,000 varieties of peonies. How those people know what’s what, I have no idea. Peonies are actually named after a Greek—or is it Roman—god. But yeah, it’s popular among brides. Your mother had it when she walked down the aisle. That and some Baby’s breath shit.”
“Oh my god, Damien. Language.”
He whirls around, eyes wide in pretend innocence. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what you mean. I’m imparting great floral knowledge to my son.”
I laugh. “I never thought you actually listened to me babble about the flowers.”
His brows furrow, mouth forming a tight line. Despite the gleam in his eyes, he manages to look offended. “Baby, I always listen to you. Always.”
“Okay, fine. Let’s go home. I need to sleep early.”
At 11 PM, I’m still wide awake, tossing and turning in bed, moving slowly to avoid waking Damien up. I go over my mental checklist for the hundredth time, attempting to find something I missed or overlooked.
The hours tick away, and my mind circles back to everything that might go wrong tomorrow. What if no one comes? What if no one likes our new name? What if they don’t want to support a new owner? What if my prices are too high? What if…?
Unable to take it anymore, I get up, my bare feet hitting the cold hardwood, tiptoeing to avoid making a single sound. I reach the doorknob and turn it slowly. The door inches open, and I slip through the narrow gap, taking extra care to close the door gently.
After checking Dylan and making sure he’s sound asleep, I make my way to the back porch, the night air cool and refreshing against my skin. I settle on the two-seater wicker chair, arranging the oversized cushion behind my back.
I don’t know how long I sit there, just staring into the distance and enjoying the nocturnal sounds around me, but the screen door opens and the floorboards creak behind me.
“I tried not to wake you.”
“I know, baby girl, but the bed feels empty without you.”
“I love you, you know that, right? I’m thankful for everything you’ve done for me and our little family.”