Bet on It (87)
She’d been following a bunch of interior decorators on Instagram in preparation for the new house, and she’d been inundated with all kinds of ideas. Some weren’t viable for the way they lived, but she’d gotten so swept up in the excitement that reality had been vacated a while ago. She and Walker were definitely not the kind of people who didn’t use their living room to actually live. All the faux-fur throw blankets in the world wouldn’t change the fact that they were couch people. And wasn’t that just the saddest thing ever?
“Are you actually tryin’ to kill me?” He ran a hand through his hair. “Are you bein’ difficult because you’re still mad I didn’t bring you any cobbler home from Minnie’s the other night? Baby, I told you, I bought you a piece, but thirty minutes is a long time, and it was sittin’ there in the passenger seat just starin’ at me, and … well, I had no choice but to eat it.”
She glared daggers at him, remembering the epic betrayal. “Yes, I’m definitely still mad about that. But that isn’t what this is about. I just want everything to be perfect, Walker. This is our first place together. I want it to be everything we imagined.”
He dropped his hands from his hips, coming around the emerald-green couch to take her in his arms. “You’re the only thing I imagined when I thought about us livin’ together, Aja. Well … you and a TV that I don’t have to squint to see any time the sun is out.”
She pinched his bicep, causing him to laugh and bring her even closer until her face was pressed into his chest. He was a little sweaty from moving furniture all day, but he still smelled incredible.
“I’m serious though,” his voice rumbled. “I just imagined you and me together in a space that was ours. Everything else is a bonus. We could be sleepin’ on a mattress on the floor, and I’d be as happy as I am now.”
She shuddered at the thought. “This is not some shitty first postgrad apartment, Walker. We’re not using milk crates as side tables.”
“Of course not—we already spent a small fortune on those nightstands from Pottery Barn,” he laughed.
“I just want you to be happy here.” She breathed her words into the material of his T-shirt. “With me.”
“I’m always happy with you, even when you’re drivin’ me up a wall. How could I not be? You’re everything.”
He’d never admit it, but Walker always knew what to say. Not that he was some kind of wordsmith with carefully curated monologues that he recited to her anytime she was in distress. He was no Shakespeare, but she didn’t need him to be. What he was, was honest. An honest man with honest words that never failed to shake her to her core. And sometimes made her weak in the knees … or soaked her panties until she was gasping for satisfaction.
“Fine,” she relented. “We can position the couch the other way. I wouldn’t want you to strain your eyes too much while you’re watching The Bachelor.”
He made a clucking sound that he had definitely learned from his grandmother. “That’s all I ask.”
Aja pulled away from him, surveying the state of their living room. There was errant furniture and boxes everywhere, some opened, some taped shut. There was an overwhelming amount of work still to be done. Even small houses were a bitch to organize. They’d decided to do things room by room, starting with the ones that they needed in the most immediate future. Their bedroom and master bath had been completed, the kitchen was mostly done, and the living room … well, it was coming along in some form or other.
“We need to hurry up and get through this if we’re going to make it to bingo tonight.” She picked some stray plastic bubble wrap off the floor, popping the little air-filled circles.
“Yeah.” Walker massaged the back of his neck. He looked around the room with an exasperated expression, but when his eyes landed on hers, they softened, and a smile overtook his lips. “Let’s get this stuff done. I plan on winnin’ big tonight.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yep, I’ve been on a bit of a lucky streak lately, and I’m tryin’ to keep it goin’.”
Acknowledgments
We’ll start this off with a thousand thank-yous to my agent, Kim Lionetti. Thank you for believing in Aja and Walker and all the ridiculous ideas I will come up with in the future. Thank you for fighting for me and this book. And thank you, maybe most of all, for keeping my time in the querying trenches breathtakingly short.
Thank you to my rock star (but like the cool indie girl, Phoebe Bridgers kind) of an editor, Vicki Lame. In moments of doubt and stress during the process of publishing this book, I’ve often found myself going back to the words you said after the first time we spoke. I am forever grateful for your guidance and support and superior knowledge of character development. You have been instrumental in changing so much for me and I will adore you always.
To my copy editor, Sophia Dembling. If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times, but without you this book would be a jumble of typos and constant crossing and uncrossing arms. Albeit, a pretty hot one, but still. I bow to you! Thank you to Kerri Resnik and Laetitia Charles-Belamour for the gorgeous cover. And to the publicity and production teams at St. Martin’s for working so hard to help the world see how special this book is.