Page 101 of Full House

He knew what she was talking about. There was only one decision she needed to make.

She didn’t drag out the suspense. “I’ve decided to take the part.” She popped her head up, staring at him. “Are you upset?”

He chuckled. He couldn’t help it. “Of course not. I think it’s wonderful.”

“You do?”

She sounded so uncertain he couldn’t help but chuckle, again. “Tori, all I ever want is for you to be happy. Acting is your lifelong dream. And you’re so good at it. You shouldn’t give it up.”

“You’re my lifelong dream,” she said conviction in her voice.

He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Who’s to say you can’t have two lifelong dreams.”

“Is that being selfish? You’ve decided to stay home.”

“No, you’re not selfish. I’ve been acting years longer than you. I’ve lived my dream, and now I’m ready to live a new one. I’m having fun being home with Luke, so much fun that maybe after you wrap up shooting, you’ll agree to add another rugrat to the mix.”

She smiled. “I’d love that.” She traced something else on his chest, and this time he made out the shape of a heart. “So, you’re planning to retire, permanently?”

She sounded surprised, but he knew she wasn’t. They’d talked about this before. But he knew what she was doing. In her own subtle way, she was giving him an out if he wanted to change his mind. And he loved her even more for that.

He shrugged a shoulder. “I’ve been thinking, maybe in a few years I’ll try directing. I’ve always been interested in that.”

She nodded, agreeing. “You’d be a great director.”

He positioned her back on his shoulder and snuggled her close. “We’ll cross that bridge later on down the line. For now, I’m happy the way we are.”

It wasn’t long until he heard her breaths even out, and he closed his eyes, drifting off to the peaceful sound, knowing everything he’d said was true. His wife made his life perfect.

“How are we getting all of this home?”

Nate, sitting on the bed with his back propped against the headboard, looked over the top of his computer to his wife. She stood across the room, staring at the mountain of gifts they’d received. Some from guests that had come, others from people that couldn’t make it and had been shipped there. “I’ve got it handled, don’t worry.”

“Oh, look. Here’s one we forgot to open.” She paused a moment. “That’s weird. It doesn’t have a tag.”

He frowned watching her turn the box this way and that.

He saw her shrug. “Maybe it fell off.”

He got off the bed, a sick feeling filling his stomach. “Don’t open it.”

She looked over her shoulder at him, raising her brows. “What?”

He walked over to her, holding out his hands. “Let me see it.”

She handed it over. A sense of déjà vu overcame him. The box was the size of a shoebox, but instead of a happy birthday theme, it was wrapped in lace print paper stamped with silver bells. He took it to the desk and carefully opened it. He felt Victoria at his back, watching from around his shoulder.

He pulled off the lid and frowned at what he saw. Pictures of him with a photoshopped Chrissy, tons of them. And that wasn’t all. What looked to be love notes, written to Chrissy from him, only not in his handwriting but in hers, as if she’d written them and then pretended they were from him. Trinkets and what looked like keepsakes—movie ticket stubs, dinner receipts, some dried flowers—also filled the box.

“What the fuck?” He didn’t know what the hell he was looking at.

But apparently, Victoria did because she started laughing.

“What’s so funny? What in the hell is this?”

She was hanging on his arm, her face pressed against his chest. “It’s a…” she kept laughing unable to get her sentence out. “It’s a breakup box.”

“A what?” He honestly had no idea what she was talking about.

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