Page 111 of Perfect Bragg

“You still won’t be alone. You’ll have my brothers, my mom, the mother of my half-brother who thinks she’s my second mother, and every other busybody in this town.”

I gulp. “That’s a lot of people.”

“All of whom love you. As do I. Now, is there maybe something you want to tell me?”

I tap my chin. “I don’t know. Is there?”

He tickles my ribs and I bat him away. He captures my wrists in one hand before poising his other hand over my side. “Are you ready to concede? Or must I continue the tickle torture?”

“What if I can’t concede because I don’t know what you want?”

His brown eyes gaze into mine. “You know exactly what I want to hear.”

I scrunch up my nose. “That I love you. Is that what you want to hear?”

His eyes fall closed and all the tension leaves his body. He hauls me near and buries his face in my neck. “Thank you,” he mumbles against my skin.

“You’re thanking me for loving you?”

He lifts his head. “Thank you for battling your guilt and fears for me. For choosing me.”

My eyes itch with unshed tears. This man just gets me. He understands how difficult it was for me to say those three words and he’s thanking me for saying them.

“I don’t deserve you,” I say as one tear breaks free.

He wipes the tear away. “You deserve the world, darling. I’m going to do everything in my power to prove to you there’s no reason for you to feel guilty. I’m also going to do everything I can to give you the world.”

I’m not ready to discuss ridding myself of my guilt. “What do you deserve?”

“I don’t know what I deserve but I do know I have everything I want here in my arms and sleeping in the nursery across the hall.”

“For a goofball, you sure know how to do sweet.”

He clears his throat. “I need to tell you one thing before we make this fake marriage real.”

I groan. “Please don’t tell me you have a wife and family hidden in your basement who aren’t allowed to leave the house.”

He chuckles. “Um, no. And I’m kind of scared of how specific your fear is.”

I shrug. “Late night television is full of scary documentaries.”

“No more late night tv for you.” He clears his throat. “You remember how I was a bit hot and cold when this previous fake marriage began?”

My brow wrinkles. I don’t remember him being hot and cold.

“Until the court case.”

Now, I understand. “When you became Mr. Full Court Press Man.”

He smirks. “I like the descriptor. Let’s keep it.”

“Goofball.”

“Yourgoofball,” he corrects.

“Anyway,” I prompt.

“I was afraid of having children.”

---