Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
“When?” she asked pointedly, still staring at me in the mirror.
“Next weekend.”
“WHAT?”
I cleared my throat and tried to sound like I wasn’t fucking terrified of the tiny woman glaring at me.
“I booked our wedding for Saturday, but we have the hotel for the whole weekend. I got us the honeymoon suite. I’ll stay in a different room the night before, though. The girls said that was tradition.”
Claire did not look impressed by the honeymoon suite or anything else I’d said. She didn’t look impressed by me. I was suddenly afraid I was about to lose her altogether.
You are blowing it, you idiot.
“Hunter. I’m probably pregnant. I do not have a dress yet. I don’t have . . . anything!”
And then she started crying. My chest felt like it would crack open from the sound of it. She wasn’t crying like a girl who was trying to use her tears to get what she wanted. She was sobbing like her heart was broken.
“Oh, honey . . . oh, baby . . .” I pulled her against my chest. She came willingly, melting into me. I felt a little bit less worried when she did that. But then she smacked my shoulder. Not hard. It was obvious that as much as she needed the hug, she was still pretty angry at me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“What were you thinking? I mean, a week? My God, Hunter.”
I kissed the top of her head and squeezed her harder.
“I was thinking that I didn’t want to wait another day to start spending the rest of my life with you.”
She lifted her tearstained face to me and blinked.
“Oh, Hunter,” she said with a tearful smile. “You should have led with that.”
And just like that, my woman wasn’t mad at me anymore.
Well, not furious anyway.
I picked her up and carried her into the bedroom to take a nap. I wanted to make love to her, but she wasn’t feeling well. The pregnancy test could wait. The search for the perfect dress could wait. The plans for our wedding . . . everything could wait.
I just needed her to feel well.
After all, we were about to start the rest of our lives together.
Chapter Forty-One
Claire
“Okay, nobody even come near this dress. Don’t even come in this area,” Kelly said grandly, gesturing in front of the clothing rack in the corner of the honeymoon suite bedroom. I was staying here alone the night before our wedding, and the girls were throwing me a ‘hen party’ to celebrate.
Our wedding was happening tomorrow. I still couldn’t believe how fast it had all come together. Just a week from the day that my soon-to-be-husband had sprung it on me.
I was still not sure I shouldn’t have punched him in the neck for that. But considering his size, he probably wouldn’t even feel it. He wouldn’t be mad, though.
Not that I would ever actually assault the man I loved—or anyone, for that matter—but man, had I been tempted.
The girls nodded and giggled. We were out in the main living room area of the suite anyway. The girls were drinking champagne while I sipped on water with lemon and weak tea.
It was a shame to miss the fun of a bachelorette party, but after the news I’d gotten last week, it didn’t seem like much of a sacrifice.
After Hunter’s announcement, I had taken a nap, something I hardly ever did. But apparently, being pregnant will do that to you. So yeah, I’d peed on a stick, the little lines showed up in the shape of a plus sign, and Hunter had jumped around the house crowing like a schoolboy.
At least he hadn’t picked me up and spun me in a circle after that first time.
I smiled as the girls put on the first of many cheesy romantic comedy films and ordered room service. I was cackling when the waiter brought up a huge rolling cart with cheeseburgers, French fries, and the fixings for ice cream sundaes. But it was the dishes filled with a whole variety platter of pickles that made me crack up.
“Ha-ha, you guys. Good one,” I said with an eye roll. But when I tried dipping a spicy pickle spear in some perfectly melted chocolate ice cream, I closed my eyes in ecstasy. “Oh, my God. That is so good. How is that so good? Why?”
“Some stereotypes are true,” Kelly said with a wink.
“I guess they are,” I said in wonder. “I never knew.”
“Try dipping a potato chip in that,” Parker dared me.
“Or a French fry,” Cynthia crowed.
I tried both, moaning in almost sexual pleasure from the taste.
“We also got you chicken noodle soup and saltines in case you got nauseous.”
“Yeah, sipping the broth is a godsend.”
“And ginger ale! Ginger ale saved my life.”
“And don’t drive if you don’t have to. Or watch any handheld movies. You know, the shaky ones?”