Page 38 of When Love Comes Home

"I like this one," she says, bouncing gently on a teal green sofa.

"I think it's too dark," I say. "How about that heather grey one over there?"

"I thought green was your favorite color," she says, a playful glint in her eyes.

I pull her off the sofa and wrap my arms around her.

"Green is my favorite color," I say, looking into her beautiful eyes, "but for a sofa, I prefer something more subtle."

In the end, we settle on a coastal sage green sofa and love seat that we both like.

***

With all the furniture in place, Katie walks around the living room, deciding how we're going to decorate the space—and when I say "we", I actually meanshe.

"I think you missed your calling," I say, watching her in action.

"What do you mean?" She smiles, holding up a large piece of wall art. "This will look perfect above the sofa on this big wall."

"You should've been an interior designer," I say.

"Here, hand me that hammer," she says, holding up the frame.

"Actually," I begin, "we need to measure first."

"Measure?" She laughs. "Let's just eyeball it. This is about the center right here."

"We need to measure it to make sure it's actually centered on the wall," I counter.

"But I'm kneeling in the center of the sofa," she quips. "So this is the center, right here."

"Katie," I say, shaking my head.

"You know what?" she says, handing me the frame. "Here, I'll leave you to it. I'm going to go decide what to put up in the bedroom."

She dusts off her hands and walks down the hall into the bedroom.

After some precise measuring and leveling, I hang the frame with the certainty that it's perfectly centered on the wall.

I walk into the bedroom a few minutes later, and find Katie standing on the bed, trying to center yet another piece of wall art—by eyeballing it.

"Katie," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'll need to measure that before I put it up."

"I already measured it," she insists, taking a step back on the bed. "And the center is right here."

She turns toward me and suddenly loses her balance. For a split second, time slows as she stumbles, arms flailing. Before I fully process what's happening, she's flying through the air. I lunge forward, reaching out just in time to catch her, swinging her around so she doesn't hit the floor. Instead, she lands on the bed with a softthud—and I land squarely on top of her.

I never knew a king-size bed could feel so small. Her hair fans out on the mattress, glossy and black. Her pale skin is soft and flushed beneath me. Time stands still—neither of us speaking, neither of us daring to break the spell that holds us captive in this moment.

She looks at me with such intensity, and the only thing keeping me from pulling her into my arms and—No. I remind myself, swiftly and firmly, that this is not just any woman. She is Katherine Linder. The woman I love, the woman I want to marry, the woman I want to have children with. But more than anything, she's Jon’s daughter.

“I love you, Adam.” Her sweet voice wraps around me like a melody, soft and intoxicating. Her eyes beg me to seal this moment with a kiss as her fingers trail a path from my shoulder to my lips, sending a warm thrill of excitement all the way to my soul, taking my breath away.

I lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek, and whisper, “I love you, too.” Then I lift myself off the bed and offer her my hand, helping her up.

We both smile, understanding just how much this moment is charged with intimacy—and with our growing love.

***

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