Make Me Bad(78)

I love when she wets her bottom lip in anticipation. She knows I want to kiss her, but I’m holding back. I need an answer first.

“Fine, if only because I know you stole my coffee pot and I’d like it back.”

“Done. Today, after story time, we’ll thank Mrs. Allen for taking you in during your time of need and then we’ll pack up your stuff. I’ll make you a cup of coffee as soon as we get to my place.”

“I’ll miss that apartment, truly.”

I laugh. “It has no hot water, no windows. Last week you called me in the middle of the night because you found a rat under the futon.”

She gags at the memory then catches herself and smooths out her face. She’s the picture of serenity as she continues, “Yes. Obviously, it had its faults, but it’s where I became a woman.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I blossomed into the mature adult you now see standing before you, flapping my wings of independence, owning my worth and conquering the world.”

“Inspiring, truly.”

“Thank you. Now that I’ve said all that, I’d really like to move in with you and please still accept me—and do you think we can get my stuff packed in an hour? I haven’t even taken my clothes out of the duffle bags because there’s a weird smell in that place and I’m worried it’s contagious.” She lifts her forearm to my nose. “Here, smell. I feel like it sticks to me even after I leave.”

I sniff. “You smell like my body wash.”

She blushes.

I can’t help but grin as I bring her closer. “God you’re so in love with me. It’s written all over your face. You wanted to use me to make yourself into a bad girl, and now what? You’re stuck with me, Hart.”

“Ugh. You’re squeezing me. I can’t breathe.”

“There. Better?”

“You just tightened your hold. I’m going to die.”

“Say you love me and I’ll let you go.”

“I love you!” she groans, fake gasping for breath.

I grin and then plant one on her before we start our very last story time together.





Epilogue





Madison





Three years later





A week shy of our first wedding anniversary, Ben surprised me with a trip. No details, no packing list, he just told me to be prepared for a long flight. After a little needling on my part, I did eventually get him to admit I wouldn’t need a big winter coat or anything. I think his exact words were: “Just pack bikinis.”

Oddly enough, I tacked on a few other items too: sundresses and sandals and big floppy hats. I had four paperbacks, but Ben thought that was excessive, so I compromised by bringing three paperbacks plus my Kindle. A girl has to be prepared.

He did a good job of keeping the secret from me. Even at the airport, he kept me from looking too closely at any of the monitors by pushing me along. When we were on the flight, he covered my ears when the pilot announced our final destination. I knew where I wanted him to take me, but I didn’t dare hope that was where we were actually headed.

I forced myself to be practical. Maybe we were going to visit London or Paris. Those places are amazing! Great! Everyone says so! Still, I had my sights set on Vernazza, one of the five seaside villages in the Cinque Terre region of Italy, which Eli made me swear I’d visit at least once in my life. I wanted it to be our final destination so badly, I could hardly believe it when we actually stepped off the plane in Rome with the sun blazing overhead and tourists everywhere.

I looked to Ben, mouth agape. “Are you serious? Are we really going to Vernazza?”

He looked at me like I was insane. “Don’t you remember when you got your tattoo? How you rambled on about me taking you here?”

I kissed him, hard. “Yes, but that was all a lie! A dream! I was just rambling because I was scared of how much the tattoo was going to hurt. I didn’t think you were actually listening to me.”

Turns out, he was.

From Rome, we caught train after train, each one a little smaller than the last. My excitement grew. I don’t think there was a single person in our path that I didn’t smile at or try to drag into a conversation.

“We’re going to Vernazza!” I said to the vendor who sold me a soda at the airport.

“Have you heard of Vernazza?! We’re headed there now!” I said to the train attendant checking tickets.

“Hi! Where are you headed? We’re going to Vernazza!” I said to the elderly woman sitting across from us on the second leg of our journey. She didn’t speak a word of English, but I could tell she was happy for me. Maybe. She did get up and switch seats awfully quickly. Probably just didn’t want me to see how jealous she was.

I never thought we’d actually arrive. The journey isn’t for the faint of heart. It felt like we’d been traveling for seven days and seven nights before I finally got my first view of the ocean. I slapped my hand against Ben’s chest.

“The ocean! Ben! THE OCEAN!”

You would have thought Clifton Cove was a mountain town with the way I droned on. It’s like I’d never laid eyes on a wave before.

When the small regional train pulled up to our station and we rolled our suitcases out, I cried upon first seeing the village. Ben assumed it was mostly due to my hormones. I’m right in the middle of my second trimester and if I so much as see a sappy commercial, I cry for a solid fifteen minutes.