22. Made the Bed
22
MADE THE BED
SOPHIE
“Surprise!” Keaton and I arrived at the Hops just in time for the watch party to begin, only we faced an ambush by all of our friends and family gathered there. Closed to the public for the night, the space had miraculously transformed into a wedding party, complete with a huge banner across the ceiling that read Congratulations Mr. & Mrs. Kingston in large letters.
It was the kind of warm, homegrown party I hadn’t had since my eighth birthday.
Vivian, Chelsea, and Maisy hugged me, squealing congratulations into my ears. Richard, Rex, and Brooks shook Keaton’s hands and gave him ‘atta boy pats on the back. It was as if we finally joined their club, welcomed with open arms.
Which felt great not to be the odd one out.
Maisy brought my left hand closer to her face, inspecting my diamond. “You did real good, Keaton,” came her seal of approval.
I had to admit, he did. I never would have chosen a marquis diamond for myself. Once he placed it on my finger, it became a part of my hand, like it was always meant to be there. Like he knew me better than I knew myself.
“Your approval means the world to me, Maisy.” His lips twitched.
“Seeing how I probably know her better than you, call anytime if you need advice,” she returned the tease. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, my bestie and I have some catching up to do.” Maisy hooked her arm through my elbow, about to lead us away to talk.
“Hey, wait a minute. We just got here. Don’t take my wife away from me yet,” Keaton joked, pulling on my other arm as if in a tug of war over me with his cousin. Then he gave me a peck on the lips and said, “Go on, but hurry back, because I’ll miss you.”
A chorus of “Aw,” came from my friends, and I had to admit he made my heart melt as well. He certainly knew how to play it up for the crowd. In the span of time since we’d first met, he went from grumpy brewer who could also flirt like crazy to a man who could deliver a totally swoon-worthy line like that and look me in the eyes like he meant every syllable.
While I went from infatuation with a reality TV star to… in lust with the man who I now called husband.
Maisy pulled my dreamy eyes off of him and over to the far corner of the brewery by the fireplace and shelves of Keaton’s board games. I eyed them while she hugged me again.
“You’re married? Are you kidding me? Oh, Sophie, I couldn’t be more happy for you. Although you deprived me of having to buy a Maid of Honor gown someday.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. But the whole weekend was… And I don’t know, we… We just went for it.” I smiled sheepishly and shrugged. Filling in the blanks seemed to be a problem for me. Keaton would probably prove a much better method actor than I would.
“Didn’t I tell you to go for it? I knew there was something brewing between you too,” she cracked herself up and elbowed me.
“You did tell me. And there definitely is.”
“You beat me to the altar though. Ugh, wedding planning is taking up so much of my time. I want to be married tomorrow. Thank God, Brooks is so patient with me.”
“I’m so happy for you two, Maisy. It’ll be worth it for you to wait.” Deep inside of me, there was a tiny green spot envy how she was doing things the right way—engagement, wedding, a future with a man who adored her. My path? A little less conventional. A little more performative. With a clock ticking.
“Tell me. How does it feel to be a wife?” She asked.
I forced my grin wide. “Incredible. Since the ceremony I’ve been floating on clouds. I stare at my ring and still can’t believe we did it.” I bit my tongue to keep from saying more. A part of me wanted so much to share every other detail about Melanie and our deal, and the term limit on this marital bliss, only I couldn’t. Maisy had been my best friend for years. There’d hardly been any secrets between us. Well, except for a part of myself I kept hidden away from everyone, and for good reason.
She grabbed her heart. “I had a feeling about you two. My vision is coming true, wanting both of us side by side and married, and even better that it’s my cousin you’re with. We’re family now, Sophie.”
“We were family before. I considered you like my sister, even more than a best friend.”
“And now it’s official. We are family, girl.” She grabbed my pinky finger with hers and gave it a shake, a funny little gesture we created back in college to mean we had each other’s backs.
A smile reached my eyes, allowing myself to be warm and happy for this moment. The Calhouns, the Buchanans, the Bellamys were all growing little families and I’d be a part of that. For now. Forever?
Maisy patted her stomach—which had only started to show a tiny bit.“Now you need to hurry up and get pregnant so we can experience motherhood together, too. Of course that could mean you’re pregnant in your Maid of Honor’s gown this winter at my wedding.”
“Uh…” This entire situation suddenly became a little too real for me. Not that I didn’t love babies. There’d been plenty of them around our group between Chelsea and Vivian growing their family tree with Rex and Richard. For a long time, I seriously thought I was jinxed, never going to find the one much less to have children.
“Hey, wife? The show is about to begin,” Keaton called over to me, and again everyone gushed at how good of a husband he was.
Maybe one weekend in Vegas reversed the jinx? Was there hope for me now?
“I better return you to his side. But don’t you even think that we’re doing away with our Whine and Wine Nights now that we’re entering this new phase of our lives. That girl’s night tradition will never end.” Maisy ushered me back to Keaton, making a big deal out of returning me to him, teasing him. “Remember, Keaton, as her best friend I have my eyes on you. Cousin or not. Better treat her right.”
“I shouldn’t have any problems there. Besides, the guys gave me some tips about keeping the wife happy.” He grinned ear to ear with the men, holding a brew in a frosted glass. The way he fit in so naturally with the group as a married man tore my heart open. What if at the end of ninety days he wasn’t one? It wasn’t just my life and future at stake here, but his too.
I packed up my things from Richard’s guesthouse and moved in with Keaton, into his charming older Craftsman house tucked near the edge of town.
Just like him, the place was one part rugged, needing to be tamed and remodeled, while the other part played all too easy on the eyes.
With charming curb appeal, the place had wood-framed windows that allowed for morning light and a wraparound porch with a swing big enough for two, stacked with cozy pillows and a quilt. Very inviting. I could see us swinging there in the evenings and having a glass of wine—or a brew, in his case.
“Nice place, Keaton,” I commented as he helped get my luggage to the porch.
“Thanks. I’ve been fixing it up little by little over the years, balancing brewery life and renovations whenever I have time.”
“What’s that?” I pointed to the opening of his garage revealing a large piece of wooden furniture like a dresser made out of logs.
“My hobby. I make furniture on the side.”
I cocked a brow. Another cool thing to discover about him? “Some hobby. Looks really nice. You’re talented.”
“In more ways than one.” His smile smoldered. “I start from cutting down the tree and with no plan, I eventually end up with a piece of unique furniture like this. One of the shops in town displays my pieces and they usually sell faster than I can make them. Come on inside. I’ll show you several I kept for myself.”
The house was surprisingly bright, with nooks and character, cool blue accents and clean lines, and the pale wooden furniture he’d built softened the masculinity of the space. Each paint stroke and built-in shelf revealed another part of Keaton’s story to me.
It immediately felt comfortable, and I liked it all very much. A stark contrast to the city apartments I’d lived in most of my life, this type of home lived in my dreams.
“Do you cook?” He asked as he showed me around his updated kitchen featuring white cabinets and granite countertops with stainless steel appliances.
“A little? Ask me to create a beautiful charcuterie board and I can win with that.”
“Noted. I like to think I’m a master at the barbecue. Somehow we won’t starve.” He hesitated before continuing on. “I hope this won’t be awkward for us. I pushed for you to move in here only because I didn’t want anyone questioning us about our living arrangements. It’s not just our family and friends to worry about, but people around town, and nosy TV fans. Anyone could go snooping and find out if we weren’t cohabitating.”
“It makes sense. And awkward? Not in the slightest. We went on one incredible date, spent a weekend in Vegas, got married, and two days later, here we are. It feels completely natural to me.” I winked.
“Well, when you put it that way…” He casually leaned against the cabinet, laughing, blue eyes bright and twinkling at me, as if he’d won the contest for cutest guy next door, only he’s mine.
“So… sleeping arrangements?” I asked the question we hadn’t really discussed yet.
“Our master bedroom is this way.” He led me down the hall, straight to my answer.
There, the contents of the room shocked me. In the middle stood a beautiful four poster bed made from the same blond logs I’d noticed in the garage. Ruffled white linens complimented the wood. And laced across the top, from corner to corner, sheer white fabric draped to the floor.
He turned on the light switch and I gasped when twinkle lights came on, softly visible through the fabric.
“Oh, Keaton.” My hand clutched my heart at the beautiful simplicity of it all. “Did you make this?”
“Yep. I just finished the bed last week. I was planning to sell it, but now that we’re married… The linens I ordered just arrived yesterday and I added the lights today. I thought it’d be a romantic touch.”
“It is. Very romantic. Did someone put you up to this? Maisy or Vivian?”
“Is it so hard to believe that I put this together on my own? For you. For us. You’re my wife, and I thought it only fitting that we sleep together on a bed that no one else has.”
It hadn’t occurred to me that he might have brought women or girlfriends here in the past. Just because I had no luck on the dating scene, certainly didn’t mean he didn’t.
“It’s beautiful. Really special. And unexpected.” Our eyes locked for a few beats, full of heat and longing. I licked my lips. We hadn’t been together since we returned from Vegas a few days ago. My knees weakened at the thought of sleeping with him again tonight.
He continued the tour by opening a door at the other side of the bed, revealing a tiny adjoining room. One person could walk into it, but too crowded for two. A few of his suits hung there, otherwise it was open.
“I cleared out some closet space for you here, and a few drawers in the dresser there.” He leaned against the doorframe, thumbs in his belt loops. “I moved a lot of my stuff down to the other bedroom, which I used as my office. Figured you’d have more clothes than me, and I wanted you to be comfortable. No sense starting our marriage off with a fight over space.”
“How thoughtful of you.” I grinned and mirrored him, leaning against the other side.
“Actually that was a suggestion Rex had texted me. The guys have been helpful like that, sending random thoughts for how to make our wives happy. They call it ‘husband training.’” With his cap on backwards and sly smile—oof—he made the best welcoming party ever.
“What else did they tell you?” I cocked my head, letting my eyes wander down his chest and lower.
He snickered and leaned forward, his forearm landing above my head on the door jamb, his face just above mine. “Can’t give away all of the secrets now. How would I ever impress you?”
I bit my lip. “I think I’m already impressed by you.”
“Yeah?” He leaned in close enough to kiss. “Would it impress you if I splay your body out on our bed and take full advantage of the situation now that you’re here?”
“That depends on what full advantage means.” My coy smile encouraged him further. We toyed with each other, angling our heads, seeing how close we could get to each other without touching.
“Should I elaborate, my little stalker?”
“Yes, please,” I whispered, our breaths mingling. My hands reached out to him. My fingertips dragged over his t-shirt, and outlined his abs.
“I’ll set you on my face and bury my tongue inside of you. Dying to taste you again. I’ll lick your clit until you come for me and scream my name. And just when you’ve had enough, I’ll roll you over, tie your hands on the bedpost, enter you from behind, and plant myself deep inside of you.”
“Is that all?” My cheeky response came out breathy, my chest heaving at his sexy talk.
“You tell me,” he dared. His hand squeezed at the smallest part of my waist, and his thumb grazed the underside of my breast.
I liked the challenge. “Maybe at that point, covered with me, you’d untie me, and let me lick you and suck you. I’ll deep throat you so good. And the only name on your lips when you come, my husband, had better be mine.”
His lips finally touched my skin, gliding along my jawline and talking at the same time. “Fuck yes, Sophie. I’ll bet you’ll be a very good girl for me in our new bed.”
I whimpered my answer, letting his lips claim mine. My last coherent thought before he carried me to bed was how much I wanted this to be real. Not just the heat of his mouth or the sinful way he knew my body, but the safety, the surrender, the sense that I’d finally found someone who could appreciate me and still want more. I could so easily bare myself and my soul to him, but if I wasn’t careful, I could lose my heart, too.
After a week, the house became ours, like it had always been meant for two. The kitchen held both our coffee mugs waiting for our beloved liquid gold in the mornings. My makeup sat beside his beard trimmer, and two toothbrushes mingled in a pretty blue stoneware holder Jessa had given us as a wedding gift.
My clothes—at least this batch I had initially brought from New York—fit perfectly in the closet. Little did he know, I had enough clothes and shoes to fill three closets.
We were officially playing house, and the game of being married was afoot. Only if I spent too much time overthinking, I’d worry that one of us might lose in the end.
Every morning, I woke up in his arms and enjoyed our first cup of coffee for the day together. Every night, I tried not to read too much into the way he curled around me like he couldn’t sleep without me in the beautiful bed he’d made for us.
And in between, I pretended I wasn’t falling madly fast and hard for him.