Mine to Take (Southern Weddings #5)(62)

“That would be the opposite of a perfect time to ask for anything,” she declares and pushes me away from her.

I can’t help but laugh. “Well, my parents are coming into town tomorrow morning so I said we would meet them for lunch.” Her mouth opens and then closes. “They can come here, or we can go to my house.”

“I don’t…” she says, and I put up my hand.

“She never lived in my house,” I assure her. “But it’s on the market, and from what my mom said, it looks like it’s sold.”

“You’re selling your house?” she asks, shocked.

“I’m selling my house. We’re moving in with each other,” I inform her, “and we aren’t getting a fucking Ring camera.”

She laughs at the last part. “We’re moving in with each other?”

“Yes.” I nod my head.

“You could just move in here,” she says, and I fold my arms over my chest.

“Who bought this house?” I ask, knowing full well who bought the house. She doesn’t say anything. “Exactly, so we are going to be looking for a house. I’m going to buy said house, and then we are moving in with each other.” Her eyebrows go up. “And then we are going to get married and have babies.”

“Why can’t we both buy the house?” she asks, and I roll my eyes and then laugh.

“Because I take care of you from this point on.” Her eyes go into slits. “Whatever you need, I’m going to be the one taking care of you.”

“And if I say no?” she asks.

“Do you love me?” I ask, and she rolls her eyes at me. “Do you not want to go to bed with each other every night?” I don’t wait for her to answer. “Because I want to go to bed with you every night I’m home. I want a house with you where we combine all our shit. Where we put up frames. Where you yell at me for leaving my socks beside the basket and not in it.” I smirk at her. “I want to know that you are in our bed when I’m on the road. Now, is that too much to ask?”

She looks at me, this woman I let go of all those years ago. The woman who has owned my whole heart since I met her. Here, in the middle of her bathroom, in the middle of the night, she agrees with me. “Fine,” she huffs, walking toward the shower, “let’s move in together.”





sofia





“What do you think about this?” I say, stepping out of the walk-in closet. Matthew turns his attention from the phone in his hand to me. He is lying on top of the bed dressed in blue jeans and a white T-shirt with a baseball hat on his head.

He smiles while he looks at me. “You look amazing. Like always.”

“But does this say I really love your son?” I ask. Turning to look at the long mirror, I see myself in my white jeans with a long-sleeve cashmere sweater folded at the neck. “And I’ll make him happy.”

He chuckles as he gets off the bed and approaches me, putting his hands on my hips. “The smile on my face says everything,” he says, and my heart skips a beat. Ever since I opened the door to him at midnight, his words have hit me right in the middle of my heart. His words have filled the void in my soul I didn’t know was there. A void I denied ever having. A void only his love could fill.

“I just want them to like me,” I admit to him, “again.” I try to make a joke out of it.

“They are going to love you, as they always have,” he assures me, and I try not to think about how they felt about Helena, if they liked her or not. Were they sad about it? I have so many questions and that just fuels the anxiety to another level.

The doorbell rings and he winks at me. “Showtime,” he says, grabbing my hand in his and walking out of the bedroom together. The doorbell rings again and he huffs as he walks to the door.

He grabs the handle and unlocks it. “You want to cool your horses?” he says, pulling open the door, expecting it to be his parents but instead it’s not.

“Why are you even answering the door?” my grandfather Casey says. “This is not your door.”

“Um,” Matthew stutters.

“Oh, would you knock it off?” my grandmother Olivia says, pushing him to the side. “Hello, Matthew,” she greets, walking in the door and going to him to kiss him on the cheek. “You look different.”

“Um.” That’s all Matthew can say.

“What are you doing here?” I ask them as I make my way to the front door.

“Your grandfather,” my grandmother states, putting her purse down on the table, “was like a bat out of hell getting here.”

“What are you doing here?” I look over to the door and see my father standing there scowling. “Answering the door like you own the place.”

“Dad,” I gasp out loud and shake my head, “he does live here.”

“What?” my father and grandfather both gasp out.

“Um, I don’t think so,” my father counters, putting his hands on his hips.

“Would you go away?” my mother says, walking into the door. “Matthew, we are so happy to see you again.”

“Again,” my father pffts out. “Not that happy.”

“Mr. Barnes,” Matthew says, going over to my father, extending his hand, “great to see you again.”