Page 201 of Dear #47, You're the Worst
The idea sends a little thrill through me. “That sounds perfect.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I want a house with a yard. What I want are Sunday mornings in bed and late dinner parties. I want to wake up next to you for the rest of my life.”
He grins and suddenly stands up, scooping me off the couch in one smooth motion.
“What are you doing?” I yelp, laughing despite myself.
“We should go to Vegas. Tonight. I’ll book the tickets right now.”
“Hunter!”
“I’ll carry you through the chapel myself.”
“Easy, tiger,” I say, still laughing. “I’d love to marry you. I really would. But let’s plan it properly. I want to tell the girls. Let me pick out a dress. I want to do it right.”
“Right how?”
I shrug. “I want you. Everything else is just details.”
He sets me down on the bed and gathers me in his arms.
“I love you,” he announces, his nose in my hair. “I love you so much it’s probably illegal in several states.”
“I love you too. Even when you’re planning to kidnap me and drag me to Vegas in the middle of the night.”
“That was a romantic gesture.”
I laugh. “That was insanity.”
“Same thing.”
I kiss him then, deep and full of promise. When we break apart, he’s looking at me like I’m something miraculous he can’t quite believe is real.
“So we’re really doing this?” He asks.
“We’re really doing this.”
“Thank God for that.”
The next morning, I wake up to find Hunter already sketching at the kitchen table. He’s working on something new. Not his usual portraits or game scenes, not any letters, but architectural drawings. Floor plans.
Well, his idea of what architectural drawings should be. He’s done them all with a red pen. It’s endearing.
“What are you working on?” I ask, wrapping my arms around his shoulders from behind.
“Our house.” He grins. “I was thinking about what we want. Open kitchen, gigantic windows, space for a studio, plenty of bedrooms for babies.”
“Babies? You’re planning pretty far ahead.”
He shrugs a shoulder. “You told me you want a big family. I agreed. I don’t see any reason we should wait.”
“You’re impossible.” I shake my head at him. “House first, then wedding,thenwe cantalkabout babies.”
“I’m hurrying this process along as fast as you’ll let me.”
“I know, Hux.” I study the drawings. He’s thought of everything. A home office for me, built-in bookshelves, a patio for morning coffee. “It’s perfect.”
