Page 100 of The Arrangement
She stops just short of the door and faces us, a grin splitting her face. She smiles at me and then focuses her attention back to Jason. “I don’t think that’s true anymore.”
Jason and Mara exchange a look I don’t quite understand before she slips outside.
The house is not quiet; it’s peaceful. It’s as if we’re locked in a castle away from everything and everyone. I understand why Jason loves it here so much. After what he goes through on a normal day in the office, this would be heaven.
It’s heaven for me just because he’s here.
He laces his fingers through mine, stroking the top of my hand with his thumb, and leads me upstairs. I follow him quietly, lost in my thoughts.
An odd sensation fills my chest. It’s heavy and weighs nothing. It’s wobbly yet so amazingly still. I could run a race or take a long nap, and I don’t know what to make of that.
The only thing that makes any sense is that I’m falling in love with Jason.
I squeeze his hand as the idea cements in my heart and then my brain.
This must be what it feels like. This must be what people search for.
A smile ghosts my lips as I sit with this revelation.
Of course, I fell for him. He’s patient and thoughtful, humble and protective. He’s honest and hardworking, a nurturer by nature. A lover by design. He’s a rock in storms, and a soft spot to land when I fall. It’s as soothing as it is terrifying.
“Want to see our wedding pictures?” he asks, guiding me into our bedroom. “They’re pretty epic.”
“I’d love to.”
He goes into his closet, so I sit on the bed, and he returns moments later, carrying a poster-sized picture frame.
“What is that?” I ask, curious.
He tries to hide his amusement. “We need to decide where to hang this—over our bed or above the fireplace downstairs?”
“Let me see it, and I’ll let you know.”
He twists the frame around and waits.
I burst out laughing. “Oh, my gosh.”
“Above the fireplace, right?” He laughs, too. “I mean, who are we to keep our guests from enjoying this picture?”
“Don’t you dare hang that anywhere.” My laughter turns to giggles. “That’s the worst wedding photograph I’ve ever seen.”
He peers around the corner. “I don’t know. I kind of like it. My eyes are closed. I’m guessing I’m dreaming of the life we’ll have together. Your face looks like you just sucked a lemon. Not sure what that’s about. Gold Jumpsuit is gyrating, I think.” He stops. “Did his penis touch you?”
“No.”
“Good.” He studies the image again. “Tate’s engrossed in a conversation with Mimi on the phone, and it looks like Ripley just saw a ghost.” He nods. “I think that covers it.”
I pull my legs up and shimmy until my back’s against the headboard. I take a moment to appreciate the softness of his bed. It’s a freaking cloud—a million times better than the mattress in the Pliny apartment.
“Is that the only picture they got?” I ask. “Tell me there are others.Better ones.”
He leans the frame against the wall. “I don’t know. Ripley has them, from what I hear. He had this one printed and delivered for our enjoyment.”
“It’s … enjoyable.”
He flops on the bed beside me, pulling me on top of him. “I’ll show you enjoyable.”
As I lean down and kiss him, he holds my face between his hands like I’m a treasure. My heart does a cartwheel right across my chest.
