The money that was supposed to be for our wedding, for a down payment on a house.
For the future that I destroyed.
One by one, I go down the list and donate every cent, emptying the account until it hits zero.
Then sit back and feel.
Do I feel better?
No.
But that's not the point.
I think of Father Martin's words, Dr. Forseti's words—making things right isn't about gratification for me.
It's about knowing I chose to do the right thing anyway.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Callum
If you had told me months ago that I'd be spending the night of my birthday watching a movie while the love of my life sat in my lap and fed me spoonfuls ofBen & Jerry's Half-Baked, I would have told you that you were out of your mind.
But that's the reality I'm in now.
Though it feels more like a dream.
Sophie is cuddled up on my lap, wearing that cute little pajama set she wore the night we shaved her head. There’s a red silk wrap around her head, which my mom gifted her, and she said it feels so good against her tender scalp.
Currently, she's feeding me bits of brownie because that's my favorite part, while she personally loves the cookie dough. The amount of skin showing right now has my heart racing, and it also has me remembering the other night when I saw her completely naked and, mercifully, did not come in my pants.
She was so beautiful, so uninhibited—it was one of the most breathtaking sights I've ever been fortunate enough to witness. I told her every inch of her is gorgeous, and she proved me right when she lay there and allowed me to pleasure her, to touch her, to love her.
I had told her before that I didn't have much dating experience, and I worried she would be put off by my lack of sexual experience. I still don't know what had come over me when I asked to go down on her, but I just felt that if I didn't get my mouth on her beautiful body, I was going to combust.
And I desperately wanted to pleasure her, to connect with her on the most intimate level.
Sophie had looked at me with trust-filled eyes, smiling gently and tenderly, while still being so damn sexy and alluring. Spreading herself for me, dipping her fingers into her gorgeous pussy, was like a vision out of one of my wet dreams. Then, she offered me those honey-coated fingers while asking if I wanted to taste her.
I'll carry that with me until the day I leave this earth.
My dream girl.
When I put my mouth on her, it took every ounce of restraint not to lose it completely—the gorgeous moans she made, the vision of her perfect body, the way she grabbed my hair from the pleasure, and finally, the sound of her calling out my name when she came.
Because I gave that to her.
She was exquisite.
I didn't really know what to expect in terms of taste, beyond what romance novels I'd read had told me, and I was pretty sure she wasn't going to taste like strawberries and candy. No, what she tasted like was Sophie,sweet and delicious and heavenly, and I want to taste her again and again and again.
I want to wake her up with my mouth on her.
I want to hear her call out my name as she comes.
I'll never get tired of it.
Not having her return the favor was a hard lesson in restraint, but she had looked so tired and worn out from the day—the appointment, the confrontation with Elise, and the orgasm. She needed to rest. I held her while we slept, and when we woke up, we were still tangled together, holding on tightly—so we don't drift.I felt a longing build inside me, imagining every morning starting like that, with my otter safe in my arms.
