Meant To Be: A Heart Series Novella (The Heart Series) by Soto Esther M

Author:Soto, Esther M. [Soto, Esther M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dueling Squirrels, LLC
Published: 2015-10-07T07:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

Brad

The blinds raise as scheduled, letting the morning sun in and making me squint against the brightness. Shifting away from the window, a sense of panic hits me. I’m alone in the empty bed. I miss her warmth instantly. Did she leave? If she snuck out…I don’t even want to entertain the thought.

Pushing by body upright, I focus on the penthouse sounds. The subzero refrigerator, the soft, barely audible A/C, clanging in the kitchen. Is that singing?

Shit, my chest bursts with glee. She’s still here! I’m smiling so big I must look like an idiot. Then it starts. My brain, like the blinds, is raising the shutters on schedule.

What have I done?

My chest hurts. It’s a pain I don’t understand, like grief or loss, or dread. That’s it.

This is a relationship, isn’t it? We’ve dated, have feelings for each other, now we’ve given ourselves over strengthening what we have. How is this going to fit in with Bradley Nelson II and the mighty Helen Nelson?

Who cares? Right now I’m so happy I could cry.

Last night was fantastic. She’s magnificent. She’s Heaven, happiness, and everything that’s real and true in one tiny five-foot package. Every curve, her beautiful dark hair, those bright brown eyes that remind me of all the warmth, acceptance, and love in the world.

I was so afraid of hurting her. I wanted to wait until she got to where I am. Color me surprised when she had not only arrived, she had beaten me to it. You don’t have to tell me twice.

But this, I don’t know what comes next. I know what I want, and that might not be the same thing.

I want her here with me. Every day, like now. I want us to elope to Vegas, or maybe have a small ceremony here by the Pier or in a small chapel. I’m not sure how that works. I just want her to be mine, to wear my ring, to take my name. I want us to be one. I want to say things like “my wife won’t like that,” or “I’ll have to talk to my wife first.” The thought makes me so happy, I laugh out loud.

I want that!

“My wife Christina,” I whisper to myself, trying it on for size.

And what do you know, it’s a perfect fit.

The singing dies down to humming as she appears in the bedroom doorway.

She’s a siren, dressed in nothing but one of my tailored shirts.

She squeals the second she sees me. “You’re awake!”

I barely have the chance to blink and she’s hurling herself in my direction, bouncing and crashing against me. She throws her arms around my neck and covers my face with little kisses.

Laughter erupts from my chest at her reaction.

“If I knew you’d be so excited about me being conscious, I’d have stayed up all night.”

This is what I’m talking about. I want to wake up to this every morning.

She pushes away and straightens up in the large bed. My shirt is a tent on her.

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