Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
It was true, wasn’t it? He really did consider my family his as well. Both of them. After all, he was often the one proposing dinners and get-togethers. He was as social as I was; he was just replacing banquets and garden parties with pub nights and barbecues.
Now that it was too cold for him and Shan to play golf, they usually met up for lunch once or twice a week, and they never came home without an idea for something we could do together. A trip, an exhibit, some social function, trying a new restaurant, catching a concert.
I slowed down the kiss and nuzzled our noses together. “I love you. Wanna get a room at that hotel in the square?”
He smiled against my lips and shook his head minutely. “I have something better in mind.”
Better than sex?
I fucking doubted it.
He grabbed my hand again, and he ushered me around a corner, down a narrow side street where the cobblestones were more uneven than on the main road. The old streetlamps cast a burning glow on the low buildings, each one its own color. Rustic yellow, deep blue, muted red, moss green.
We passed a bike repair shop and a corner pub, both of which looked like they’d be out of business decades ago. But when the businesses bore the name O’Shea, it was safe to assume they had money coming in from elsewhere.
“It’s too cold for outdoor sex.” I threw that out there.
“We’re in agreement,” he confirmed.
Then he dug out a set of keys and stopped outside the blue building. It couldn’t be more than ten feet wide, two stories high, and it was smashed against two three-story buildings in green and red.
I scratched my forehead and tilted my head. “Did you rent a house?”
I didn’t know why else we’d be here, and he was literally unlocking the white-painted door. These houses were old.
He tossed me a soft smirk over his shoulder before pushing the door open. “I didn’t rent it.”
Whoa. Was he saying he’d bought it?
No fucking way.
He stopped in the doorway, and his smirk turned a little devious. “By the way, I paid in cash with Shan’s help. Your cash. And then transferred the amount to our joint account. So consider that money laundered.”
I lit up like a Christmas tree. “You absolute criminal, I’ve never loved you more.”
He chuckled and tugged me inside the tiny entryway. He flicked on the lights too, and I was utterly fucking charmed.
The place smelled like paint, so it must’ve been fixed up recently. You could still tell the house had a lot of history, but I did appreciate walls that didn’t have paint chipping off.
He opened the door to our left, revealing a small bathroom.
“There’s one upstairs too,” he murmured.
Next, the kitchen to the right. I shrugged out of my jacket and kicked off my shoes.
The floorboards creaked underneath my feet.
Small, cozy kitchen with a wooden countertop, gas stove, green-painted cupboards, modest fridge and freezer, and a round table that seated two. Someone had placed two flowerpots in the window, possibly the real estate agent since they were new.
At the back of the house was a living room, unfurnished aside from a rocking chair in the corner.
“I know what we can buy in Cork if we go there,” West said.
I couldn’t fucking believe him.
“When did this happen?” I asked.
“Just a few weeks ago, but I got the keys this morning,” he replied. “I went ahead and had beds delivered, though. We have everything we need upstairs so we can move in tonight. Shan and Emilia orchestrated it. Beds, linens, some toiletries. There are three small bedrooms.”
Oh yeah, we were doing that. I didn’t care it was almost eleven PM; this was where we were sleeping tonight, the whole family.
A rush of emotions washed over me, and I just shook my head and pinched my lips together. Could I propose? I needed to propose. I’d promised to leave it up to him, but I had nothing else to show him how much I fucking loved him.
“Is my little mobster speechless?” He closed the distance between us and smiled as he brushed his lips to mine. “Let’s create new memories here.”
New memories.
That was fucking it. That was a sign. I knew which memory we could create right now.
Heat rose to the surface, and I fidgeted with the collar of his shirt as I kissed him back.
“Can you please just fucking marry me already?” I blurted out.
Splendid. Well fucking done.
Oh God. He froze, and I was a goddamn idiot. I had to solve this somehow. He deserved a better proposal! I wasn’t even down on one knee—oh shit. Yeah. So I promptly dropped to one knee, and I clutched his hand.
“Yeah, that coulda been a lot smoother,” I said. Was I fucking blushing? My ears felt hot, my face felt hot, I felt hot. “I just—I don’t wanna wait until you drop another grand-gesture bomb on my unprepared ass, because I can’t fucking measure up in that department—”