Page 26 of Her Kensington
7
Summer
The little bitof confidence I did have about putting my own mark on Harrison’s home vanishes the moment he comes to a stop in the doorway to our bedroom.
“I’m sorry,” I say in a rush. “We can put it back the way it was if you don’t like it.”
“Summer,” he soothes as he puts me down on my feet and pulls me so I’m directly in front of him. He stares deep into my eyes. “This is our home. It’s just as much yours now as it is mine. You can do whatever it is you want to the place.”
“Really?” I whisper.
“Really.” Looking up from my face, I watch as he casts his eyes back around the room again. Gone are the white curtains, matching bedding and bare walls, and in their place are gorgeous burnt orange and dark blue fabrics which compliment the canvas of the sunset I painted on our honeymoon that’s waiting to be hung pride of place above our bed. “It’s stunning.”
“Really?” I ask again, like it’s the only word I can remember.
“Yes. Really.” Grabbing me by the shoulders and pulling me into his chest, I can’t help but let out a large sigh of relief.
“That’s good, because there’s more,” I admit.
“I can’t wait to see it, beautiful.”
It’s almost an hour later when we emerge from the en suite with our previous sweaty bodies all clean and smelling like the raspberry shower gel I found in a bright pink bottle—not wanting to leave the bathrooms out during my color explosion.
Harrison looks into every room we pass, expecting to find it covered in new stuff, but he’s disappointed until he looks in the living room. That’s had similar treatment to the bedroom. There are now cushions on the plain black couch, new curtains and a rug to soften the room a little.
The kitchen wasn’t ignored either, with new colorful utensils on the counter along with a green kettle and toaster.
Coming to a stop behind me, he wraps his arms around my waist and rests his head on my shoulder. “It looks amazing. Thank you.”
“Are you sure? You’re not just saying that because you have to?”
“No, I mean it. It looks like a home all of a sudden, although I think that has more to do with you than it does the stuff.”
“Aw,” I say, turning in his arms so I can look at him.
“I really love having you here.”
After dropping a kiss to the end of my nose, he releases me and walks into the kitchen. “Dinner?”
“Yes!”
Sitting on the bar stool, I watch as he effortlessly moves around, gathering everything he’ll need. My heart races as I watch him looking so relaxed, dressed in only a tight-fitting white t-shirt that stretches across his wide shoulders and chest along with a loose-fitting grey pair of sweatpants and bare feet. I’ve never seen him looking so happy in his own skin as right this second. It looks very sexy on him.
“Why are you blushing?” he asks, putting a stop to my thoughts.
“Uh…” I stutter as I think about how I was just undressing him with my eyes.
“Summer,” he warns, the deep rumble of his voice sending tingles around my body.
“I was just thinking how hot my husband looks while he’s cooking.”
“I’ll remember that,” he says with a cheeky wink before turning back to the fish he’s preparing.
* * *
True to his word,apart from the odd call here and there, I get him all to myself for the next three days. He takes me to see a couple of universities and I get the chance to talk to the professors about the courses I’m interested, as well as seeing some of the sights London has to offer. I get to experience the places my grandad used to tell me about as a kid. He’s been gone over four years now but just being here, where he grew up, makes me feel closer to him than I can ever remember. I was always desperate to experience what his early years were like and as I walk around the city he loved so much with my hand tightly grasped in my husband’s, I can’t help but smile at how my life has turned out.
I never would have predicted this in a million years. I thought attempting to get into art school was a dream that would never happen. But to be able to call London my home and have this incredible man by my side who’s offering me the world is just beyond my imagination. I’m still waiting to wake up and for it all to be a dream, or for the other shoe to drop, because all this is just too good to be true.
