Chapter 21
Lana
Because I’m a hypocrite, I wear the sneakers he bought me with my outfit for the carnival today.
Damn it.
I can’t believe I was really trying to hate them but they are kind of comfortable. I’m just so afraid of ruining them. I’ve worn them twice now—once to the cafe the other day and now today. He continues insisting, and I see why.
If there wasn’t a ton of walking involved at Willow Springs’s Annual Summer Carnival, I wouldn’t dare. To be fair though, they do kind of pair well with the light blue cropped mom jeans and the white tank with thick straps tucked in. Damn him, they look good.
Just imagine those combat boots in the fall.
The front door opens and closes, and after staring at the perfectly new, untouched sneakers on my feet in the mirror for a while, I jog downstairs. “Christian?”
“Baby.”
I round the stairs and I see him in the kitchen, the rays from the setting sun seeping in through the back glass doors, bathing him in gold. And Christian is setting down a giant vase of fresh flowers.
I slow when I see the dramatic ensemble, enamored by the colors and arrangement. Violet’s doing, undoubtedly. He spins the vase until he finds the perfect side—all sides are perfect—then takes a step back, smiling at the bouquet before he turns to me.
Christian has a boyish grin on his beautiful face—the stubble grown back the way I like it because his hair grows fast—and I want to kiss it off his face. “Hey, baby.”
“Hi?” I eye the arrangement, wanting to bury my nose in the flowers. “What’s…”
“Flowers.”
I roll my eyes and go toward him. “I see that.” My hand curls around the shape of the crystal clear vase, the glass cool beneath my palms. “They’re beautiful.”
“Sunflowers,” he says. “For you.”
I stifle a grin and move closer, sliding my hands up his chest and around his neck. “Are you calling me your sunflower or something corny like that?”
“Something corny like that.”
“Thank you,” I breathe and kiss his jaw.
“I took your Jeep out,” he says, pulling out my car keys from his jean pocket.
My brow furrows when he sets the keys on the island. “Where?”
“Oil change, inspection, tire rotation, and filled the tank,” he says. “Also changed the filters for the air-conditioning so it should feel much cooler now.”
I shake my head, grinning. “Christian…”
His thumbs press into my dimples, holding my face in his large hands. “Yes?”
He’s so sweet. He’s a dream. The love of my life.
Just the other night, Christian spent the night in my bed and we woke up naked.
In the morning, he didn’t let it go anywhere other than deep and lazy kisses before he pulled on his boxers and told me he had to shower then go to the gym.
He kissed my head, kissed my cheek, then my lips, and left.
By the time he came back, I was already on my way out to the shop and he kissed me goodbye.
And now he’s here after bringing in my car for maintenance, which I’ve neglected because I’ve been so busy with the shop.
“Thank you,” I breathe.
He kisses me. “I have a gift for you, but you can’t get upset.”
I pull back and give him my narrow-eyed glare. “What is it?”
With a boyish grin, he goes and grabs a black paper shopping bag from the couch. “Christian…” I warn.
He takes a seat on the stool and sets the bag on the island. “Please? You love these and I like this one for you.”
“I swear, if it’s over a thousand dollars—”
Christian laughs. “You’ll throw it at me.”
I pout. “Christian, I don’t want you spending money on me.”
“Baby, if I don’t spend it, it’ll just sit there, and if there is anyone I want to spend my money on, it’s you. And our kids.”
Our kids.
“Let me spoil you,” Christians says softly. “Open it. Please.”
I chew on my inner lip and eye the black bag. “Fine.”
I pull out the contents of the bag, stealing a glance at Christian just to see his giant grin. He snatches away the bag and on the box it says, Saint Laurent.
“Christian.”
“Shhh.” He chuckles. “Open it. You’re going to love this, I promise.”
Groaning—both out of frustration and excitement— I pull the top off the sleek, black box. I pull away the tissue paper and the pouch it’s hiding in until I reach the gift.
I inhale sharply. “Christian…”
A black, leather YSL crossbody bag with the gold chain strap.
“Oh my god.” I brush my fingers over the material lightly.
“I know you love your crossbody bags,” he says. “And I know you like simplicity. So I picked a simple one for you. It’s also a color you can wear with almost everything…”
“Christian,” I breathe shakily. “I…”
“Put it on.”
Gingerly, my fingers wrap around the small bag and the chain falls around my hands as I stare at it—the third most expensive thing I know, and thanks to Christian.
“I really, really love it, Christian,” I croak, feeling my eyes sting just as the corners of my vision cloud.
I feel his soft, warm lips on my cheek and then his thumb wiping the corner of my eye. “Please don’t throw it at me.”
I chuckle tearfully. “I would never, I love this thing.”
“More than the boots?”
“I love those boots. And I love this bag. I love the sneakers,” I say. “I love all of it. I… I’m… I’m going to take care of this thing, I swear. Even if it never sees the light of day, I’ll—”
Christian laughs. “Baby, you’re going to wear it tonight for the carnival.”
“But…” I frown. “But it’ll get ruined.”
“No, it won’t,” he says, opening my new bag and putting my phone, wallet, and keys into it. He then puts the bag around me, letting it hang from my shoulder and cross my body to rest at my hip. “And even if it gets ruined, I’ll buy you a hundred more. In all different colors.”
“No, I’ll clean it,” I say. “I’ll make there aren’t fingerprints or—”
“You look beautiful, baby.” He smiles.
I push my hair behind my ears and feel my cheeks flush. “Thank you.” I throw my arms around his neck. “For the bag. For everything, I love it. I love you.”
His arms wind around me tightly. “I love you,” he whispers, brushing his lips over mine. “We should get going so we can get on the good rides before the lines are too long.”
“It’s still early,” I chuckle, adding my lipgloss and travel sized perfume into my new bag.
“It’s almost seven,” he says, grabbing the Jeep keys, his keys to the house, his phone, and wallet. “Let’s go.”
“Babe, it’s only six.” I follow him toward the door where he’s putting on his sneakers. “We have an hour.”
“It’ll give us time to buy our wristbands.” Christian grabs my hand and pulls me out of the house, and then he locks it behind him. “Come on.”
Christian opens the passenger side door for me to hop it. In the driver's seat, he starts the engine and turns on the AC, and he was right—the air is cooler now.
I love him so much.
“I’m so excited,” he murmurs, his face flushed and grin wide like a little boy.
“Me too, baby,” I chuckle.
“Katherine’s first?”
I nod and reach over to kiss his cheek before his hand comes to the back of my headrest and he stretches to look out the back windshield as he reverses. Finally, he’s driving forward and toward the diner, his leg bouncing and the grin glued on his face.
My giant teddy bear is still a child inside.
Tonight, I’m recognizing how good of an idea his no sex rule is. I have this…belligerent pent up need for him so whenever he’s ready, it’s going to wreck me. And it’s going to feel so fucking good.
I watch him order our sodas and hotdogs from where I sit at a picnic table, holding onto the giant llama he won for me at the paint balloon, dart throwing booth.
I never know what it’s actually called. The muscles of his arms flex and relax with each movement he makes, pulling out his wallet and handing the man the cash, grabbing the receipt—he’s hot.
He really is just so hot.
He’s pocketing his wallet, waiting at the side of the food truck, and I feel the overwhelming urge to wrap myself around him—just hold onto him like a koala on a tree branch.
I’ve spent so much time away from him that I need to be with him all the time, everywhere he goes.
It doesn’t sound like a healthy attachment kind of thing, but I’m tired of missing him.
Although, I do love when I’m at home and he comes in through the front door.
It solidifies the image of our future in my head, the one he’s implanted with our two babies and a lake house.
I’m growing impatient for all of that now.
But at least we’re back at the town’s summer carnival, and we’ll be here the entire weekend.
We did this every year, came back all three nights, bought our wristbands, and went on every ride again and again—Friday to Sunday.
Sometimes our friends would join for night two or three, and it was always one of the best weekends of our lives, I think.
It was a weekend we could all be kids again.
There really is nothing like serotonin from rollercoasters.
“Auntie Lana!”
I turn to see a tiny, beautiful brunette with pigtails running toward me. “Gracie!” I swing around on the bench and catch her just in time when she leaps. I kiss her cheek. “Hey, little one.”
“Hi!”
In tow is Julian, watching his daughter with a smile. “Hey, Lana.”
“Hey, JuJu,” I tease just to get a rise out of him. “What are you two doing here?”
“Daddy said I can get cotton candy,” Grace tells me.
I gasp. “He did?”
Grace nods.
My little niece is the cutest baby I’ve ever known. We may not biologically be family, but this friend group we have—the guys, Christian, Grace, Nat, and Isa (and even though we are missing Elena)—we’re family no matter what. This little girl in my arms calling me her aunt proves that.
We’ve all remained by each other's sides, and they stuck by me after Christian left. We’ve been stuck together since we were teenagers, and it’s never going to change.
“Where’s Christian?” Julian asks.
I jerk my chin over my shoulder. “Getting food. He called timeout on the roller coasters.”
“Weak stomach,” Julian scoffs.
Grace giggles and I laugh with her. “Can I go to Uncle Christian?”