One month later… “We’re going to be late to your own party.” “But I can’t figure out what to wear!” I dash, barefoot, out of the brand-new closet Will only finished building last week. Moving into a falling-down shack has had its challenges, but there are plenty of perks too—like custom shelves made to fit my shoe collection. I hold up two dresses, still in my underwear. “Which one says ‘future real estate billionaire’?” “I kind of like what you’re wearing now. Or, not wearing . . .” Will pulls me closer, sliding his hands over my bare stomach. I laugh, dancing out of reach. “Later,” I promise, dropping a quick kiss on his cheek. “Everyone’s waiting on us, and I need to look perfect.” “You already do.” He pulls me back into his arms for another kiss, and this one is so hot and bone-meltingly deep, I can’t help but fall, breathless against him. It still hits me, every time, that he’s mine. I get to kiss this man, and hold him, and know that he’s here to stay.
