Chapter 55
Chapter Fifty-Five
ELIZABETH
And the Pickle Says…
Fitting myself between the vee of Fallon’s legs, his arms fold around me and pull me flush against his chest, and for the first time in days, I just…breathe.
The kids are at school, so Fallon and I decided to spend the day doing absolutely nothing, which turned into a leisurely walk through the woods and a picnic at the treehouse.
Wiggling my bare toes, I relax back into him and let my eyelids flutter closed. The sun-warmed wood planks and forest-cooled breeze feel good against my skin. “Thanks for bringing me here.”
The tranquility of the treehouse is exactly what I needed. Just nature’s quietude and the man I love. Perfect.
Fallon presses his cheek to the side of my head, his lips kissing my hair. “You can come anytime, Kitten. This is all yours.”
“Common law property doesn’t apply until after we’re married,” I joke.
Married.
Every time I say it or think it, my heart does an excited pitter-patter.
“Still yours,” he replies with typical Fallon cockiness.
I angle my head and look at him, not entirely sure if he’s being serious.
Just as I open my mouth to ask, he hushes me with a kiss. “Whatever you’re going to say won’t change anything.”
I splutter out a laugh. “I haven’t said anything yet.”
He deftly changes subjects. “Next summer. You, me, the kids, the yacht. Wherever you want to go.”
Another adventure.
I bring his hand to my lips and brush them over the backs of his beautifully inked fingers. “I want to see the world through your eyes this time. Africa, New Zealand, and every other place you went.”
Strands of my hair get tugged by his stubble when he presses soft kisses down my temple to my neck, and my thighs involuntarily squeeze together, remembering how good that stubble felt this morning when he woke me up in the most delicious way.
His arms tighten their hold. “I don’t want to wait.”
He’s not talking about the trip. “Neither do I.”
“Next week.”
Laughing, I inform him, “I can’t plan a wedding in seven days.”
“Five.”
I gape up at him. “Fallon!”
“Four.”
My body shakes with how hard I’m laughing. I know when to pick my battles. “Seven. Now feed me. I’m starving.”
He reaches one-handed for the basket and slides it toward us.
I lift the lid and take out one of the storage containers I threw in there.
I had to freeze most of the stuff everyone brought because I didn’t have the heart to throw it all away, and I sent a bunch of food with Marcus to the shop for the guys to eat.
They’ll eat anything, especially Knox. That man’s stomach is a garbage disposal.
I feel Fallon’s grimace when I open the container I packed with deviled eggs and pickles. Since the other day, I’ve been craving them for some reason.
“Christ, woman. What is it with you and that stuff? It smells horrible.”
I bite into a pickle spear. “You sound just like Ryder. He would complain all the time when I was?—”
I stop mid-chew.
“When you were what?” Fallon asks.
I drop the pickle like it burned me.
No way.
No freaking way.
It’s not possible.
I’m forty-four years old.
But—
Oh my god!
Holy shit.
I twist around to stare at him with wide, incredulous eyes. “When I was pregnant.”