Chapter 59
Brynne
“What the hell?” I ask twenty minutes after waking up. Colin still hasn’t replied to my text asking him where he is. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. It’s not like him to sneak out of bed while I sleep. He usually would have left me a note or sent a text, but I always wake up before him on the weekends.
Even the shower I just took doesn’t put me in a better mood. Despite planning a wedding and a future with the man I love, I have a bad feeling about something. After brushing my teeth and gargling, I put on one of his tees and a pair of panties. As I pick up my phone to call him again, I hear the front door open. Relieved, I exhale and run out of the room. He’s carrying grocery store bags, so I follow him into the kitchen. Once he sets the bags down, he pulls me into his arms and kisses me deeply.
“Mmhmm,” he moans in my mouth. “Minty. I like.” He kisses me again, this time cupping both my ass cheeks as he pulls me fully into his body. I jump into his arms and wrap my legs around him.
“Why weren’t you in bed when I woke up?” He kisses me again and carries me to the bedroom.
“I wanted to make you breakfast in bed, but I think I’ll have you for breakfast instead.” He drops me on the bed, pulls the T-shirt over my head, and whistles at the site of my breasts.
He pushes me down on my back, and after stripping himself naked, he climbs on top of me.
I giggle at him while we’re wrapped in the messy bedsheets.
“How does this sound? In a few minutes, I’m going to make breakfast for my fiancée, but in a few months, I’ll be cooking breakfast for my spoiled wife,” he whispers.
“Spoiled?” I ask with an arched brow. I’ve never been spoiled in my life. My mom loved me and provided, but she didn’t spoil me. She raised me to think on my feet and to figure things out. That’s why when shit went to hell after my stepfather died, I didn’t fall apart.
“Oh, yes. You’re going to be one spoiled wife, Honeybee. Breakfast in bed, dinners cooked alongside your handsome husband, exotic vacations wherever you want. Getting loved by your husband.”
“I love the sound of that,” I say against his mouth, but my stomach growls, and he rolls me off him.
“Okay, stay here, and I’ll go cook.” He slides off the bed and puts on his shorts. He bends down and kisses me before he leaves, but I slide out of bed as soon as he’s gone. After putting on shorts and a tee, I follow him into the kitchen. We wash our hands together, and I make coffee while he dices onions. While it brews, I stand behind him, wrap my arms around his waist, and sigh in contentment.
I’ve never been this happy in my life. I had a good childhood but suffered loss after loss in early adulthood. My twenties were spent in school and building a career. I don’t know how to deal with this new phase in my life, especially when it's something I was never searching for. It just found me.
“Tighter,” he says.
“What?”
“Wrap your arms around me tighter. Don’t ever let go.” He throws the words out casually as he dices a red pepper for our eggs.
“I won’t,” I whisper. “I promise.”