Addicted After All (Addicted #3)(63)

In our twenties, I never thought we’d be here again. With these feelings more intense than the first ones. With love more powerful. A bad day can overturn into a better one. And all we have to do is be with each other.

Unable to hide her own smile, she says, “We were husband and wife.”

“We were.” I wrap my arm around her waist, bringing her closer. And I kiss her nose.

She’s glowing.

And the pressure on my chest—I realize that it’s gone. Just like that.

I felt my son move tonight. It’s a thought that puts every irritation aside. For the longest time, I thought maybe he hadn’t really been alive. Maybe he was going to be swept from us.

I recognize now what’s important to me. Him. Her. All three of us. “Lil…” I stare down at her green eyes that glimmer in the moonlight. “I’m remarrying you.”

Her lips part. “What?” We haven’t brought marriage up since before I first relapsed, over a year ago.

I turn to her and cup her cheeks in my hands. “Someday we’re going to have another wedding, and it’s going to blow our seven-year-old one out of the f*cking water.”

Her smile rises, but it’s filled with heartache, and one of her tears falls on my hand. “Lo,” she whispers, “it’s okay if it never happens, as long as we’re together…it’s enough.”

I screwed it up for us when I relapsed. She believed in something and then I crushed it. “Seven-year-old Lily loved being married to me,” I tell her with a weak smile. “I gave you a million piggyback rides.”

“You said that’s what married couples do,” she notes, her eyes right on mine.

My hands fall to her hips. “Someday I’m going to make it right again,” I say softly. “Promises from me don’t mean much.” I know this. “So I’m going to give you something better.” I shift her behind me, and then I easily lift her onto my back.

I can feel her smiling as she wraps her legs around my waist, her arms around my neck. I hold her securely beneath her knees and I walk towards the bow. “Fly away with me, Lily Calloway?”

She whispers, “Only if we make-believe that we never, ever have to grow up.”

“There’s a problem with that, love,” I say, carrying her on my back across the deck.

“What’s that?” she asks, and I picture her adorable crinkled brows.

I’m smiling more than I have all night. “Our make-believe always turns out real.”

From our pretend weddings, to our pretend relationship—in the end, it’s all become reality. And I would love to never, ever grow up with Lily Calloway. In one universe, we’ll be young forever.





{ 22 }

LILY CALLOWAY



I stare hard at Lo’s back. It’s bare and naked and teasing me. Normally I’d be compelled to jump on him. Koala-bear-style. Now April and back in Philly, my belly has grown much bigger since Daisy’s birthday, so large that it’s a hindrance for all future piggyback rides.

He concentrates on the wall, running a paint roller across the surface. He only removed his shirt when he realized he had on his Cobalt Diamonds tee, a gift from Connor. And like my sister, Connor takes complete offense if you don’t take good care of his gifts. He wouldn’t appreciate a splatter of blue paint across his company’s logo.

My space on the wall looks pathetic in comparison to his section. In defense, all I’m working with is a small paint brush, and it doesn’t help that I’ve been taking breaks. The rocking chair calls out to me. Not only is it the only piece of furniture in the room, it relaxes all of my achy muscles.

Sitting on the floorboards, I languidly move my brush against the wall, not caring much about being neat or perfect. My eyes have landed on a new beauty.

Lo’s butt.

It’s beautiful.

Better than his bare, muscular shoulders. Then again, his butt isn’t naked right now.

“You staring at my ass, Lil?”

I jump in surprise, paint catching my wrist. Shit.

He looks over his shoulder, a smile in his eyes.

“You have a nice ass,” I tell him.

His grin descends to his lips, and then his gaze flits to the wide open door. Across from our nursery there’s another one.

Rose and Connor had all of their furniture imported from some boutique in Paris. They changed their mind about Hale Co. products at the last minute, and I think it has to do with Connor and Jonathan’s prolonged fight.

Rose offered to ship some items for us, but we want to support Hale Co., so all of our things should be arriving sometime this month.

I spot the baby pink walls and the twinkling chandelier dangling from the ceiling. A room fit for a princess. Even the walls have artistic floral designs, hand painted. Our nursery is bare except for the Hale Co. rocking chair and some muted blue paint.

I’ve never had a problem with my simple tastes, but I worry our kid might.

Maybe he should have a room fit for a prince.

Lo passes me to the door, shutting it quietly.

“Maybe we should hire someone to decorate?” I suggest. Rose has given me three business cards from various interior designers. She’s not-so-subtle with her hints.

“Our nursery will look beautiful, Lil.” He comes closer, placing his hands on my shoulders. “I mean, it may not have a chandelier.” His lips lift.