Page 69 of The Fangirl and the Playboy

“Gavin,” I start, my panic escalating, then freeze when his hand pops free with a manila folder clutched between his fingers.

“This is for you. No, wait. That’s not right. This is forus.”

Speechless and confused about whether I’m relieved or disappointed, I take the folder from his outstretched hand. Setting my wine glass on the table beside me, I flip open the folder and try to make sense of what I’m seeing.

It’s a stack of paperwork, and the first page says “Real Estate Purchase Agreement” at the top, making my eyes go wide as saucers. I skim the document, seeing the seller listed as Trace Bardin and the buyers listed as Gavin Reese and…

Willow Bardin.

My gaze flies up to Gavin, who’s watching me with cautious optimism. He gives me a shaky smile, and I can see he’s kind of freaking out over my reaction.

“Trace is selling this place to…both of us?”

“I told him to write it up that way. I’m buying this house, but I want it to beours. I want you to know that this is your home in every single way––physically, emotionally, andlegally.”

He taps the papers in my hand with that last word. I lift my gaze to look around again, emotion clogging my throat. Clearing it with a cough, I blink back the tears.

“Our home,” I whisper, the words filled with wonder.

“Ours,” he reiterates. “Willow, you know I love you. But what I don’t think you’ve fully realized is that I’m going to love you forever. I want this to be our home. I want to marry you someday. Have babies with you––if that’s what you want. Maybe get a dog, too.”

I laugh at that because, hell yeah, I want a dog. I could just never get one because my apartment complex doesn’t allow them. And babies?

Our babies would be so fucking loved. So cherished. So beautiful.

“Yes,” I breathe, the tears I’ve been battling spilling over and dripping down my cheeks. “Yes, Gavin. To all of it.”

His smile grows wide and a laugh bursts through his lips. “We’ll start with the house. I’ll be asking you to marry me in a more traditional way when you least expect it. As for the dog…I may have already visited the animal shelter in Jonas Hill, and there’s the cutest little mixed breed––”

His words cut off with a grunt as I lunge forward and tackle him, peppering kisses all over his face. His hands find my hair, gripping it tightly enough to hold me still so he can press his lips against mine in a scorching kiss.

Gavin Reese may have fangirls all over the world, but sorry ladies, he’s mine.

And I’m going to love him for the rest of our lives.

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