Page 85 of Curious
A photo from our ski trip, clinking champagne glasses before a fire.
Shelby’s documented me falling in love with him.
When I see the time-lapse photos of the different projects we completed to rehab the house and then some sleepy selfies in bed, a tear runs down my cheek.
“Wow.” It’s hard to speak through the lump in my throat. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t want to overstep—”
“No,” I say hastily. “I love it. I absolutely love it, and I love all the care you put into making it. It’s the best present I’ve ever received in my life.”
“It’s kind of a mess—”
“It’s beautiful.” He looks so little and forlorn, and I need to figure out how to say this right. “Come here,” I demand, and open my arms. He climbs into my lap and snuggles against me. I let him do it for a moment, then pull back so I can see his face. “I love you, do you understand? And the fact that you made something like this is incredible. I want you in my life. In my bed. Every day.”
Shelby sniffles. “I wanted to make something to commemorate our marriage, but then I didn’t give it to you because I worried it would be manipulative or something.”
“Manipulative? To show our love? Not at all.” I grin and kiss him.
“And it isn’t very fancy. Other people make them look better.”
“Stop. Just because it doesn’t match something on Pinterest or wherever doesn’t mean that it’s bad. It means that you made it. And that’s the important thing.” I sigh. “Look. You and I both like to be creative. You do it with your crafting, and I build houses, but at the end of the day we both value things that have substance.”
He nods. “Yeah.”
“This book shows that our relationship has substance. It might have started as something that was just for convenience, but it’s become pretty damned real.”
“It has,” he says.
“Do we get to have another ceremony?” I ask.
“If you want one, sure. I think that would be very cool.”
God, I love this man. He gives me what I want—and doing so makes him happy.
I know, because I feel the same way about him.
* * *
Noah lets Shelby leave early, and I follow him home in my truck. When we stumble inside, I pick him up and kiss him.
“I’m in love with you,” I mumble against his lips.
“I love you, too. In my heart, you’re simply mine.”
His.
I’mhis.
I’msohis. I want to be his until the end of time.
I can’t wait long enough to get to the bedroom, and we end up sprawled out on the living room floor. I don’t care about rings or ceremonies or legal documents. All that matters is that the man I love for real loves me back. For real.
Our tongues slide together as we kiss deeply. I grip his waist and flip us over so that he’s under me, and Shelby spreads his legs eagerly. I want us to be like this forever. Touching. Caressing. Grinding.
We always had the friendship—even when we barely knew each other, we got along just fine. And I always found him compelling.
But now? It’s so much better.
