Ashton Prewitt:Sure, that’s not a problem. Why the change?
Me:Because I know who you are. Who you really are.
Ashton’s response doesn’t come until I’ve stopped the crying jig and have made it back to my camper. It took everything inside me not to march to my parents’ place. But I need to talk to Ashton first. To figure out what’s real. I don’t trust my parents not to lie to me again.
And Sam. Ethan.
My heart turns to dust. This betrayal is bone deep.
I read Ashton’s latest message one more time before crawling into bed and crying myself to sleep. He knows. Whatever it is that I don’t know, he knows.
But I know one thing’s for certain.
Nikhil Ashton Prewitt is Noah Ashley Ashton.
Ashton Prewitt:I’ll see you tomorrow.
Excerpt from Esme’s Novel
I’m bringing myself a husband home from Bora Bora.
And not just any husband—THE husband. Because for all of Noah’s flirty, mischievous, and playful antics that simultaneously put me on edge and awaken my soul, he’s the one I want. The one I need. The one Ichoose.
My bookish boyfriend—future husband—come true.
Whatever awaits us back in Mississippi, we will tackle it head first. As a team. Nothing will come between us. Not if we choose each other every day as we grow in love and trust.
“What do you think about this plot point?” Noah asks. He’s sitting lazily on the deck, his feet splashing in the water while he types on his computer. I’ve warned him a million times that he’s going to lose his laptop in the ocean, but he only smirks and says, “I’m good with my hands. You’ll find that out soon enough.”
Naturally, I look to the sun and blame it for the red blistering my face. “You can’t say stuff like that until we’re married, Noah.”
He chuckles. “So I am too much for you?”
“I just don’t needthoughtsoccupying my head.”
Surprisingly, Noah sobers us. “Of course. I’m sorry, Esme. I sometimes think before speaking and let the flirt get the best of me. Forgive me?”
“Already forgiven, thank you.” My heart swells with respect for this man as I watch him resume his typing.
I’m sitting at the table on the deck, far from where the water could consume my notebook. I’ve started writing story ideas down at Noah’s prompting. He says I need a place to put them to sleep until they’re rested enough to wake up and develop.
He’s the cutest soul underneath all of his hot man energy.
I set my notebook down on the table and pad across the wooden deck until I’m sitting next to him, fingers trailing up and down his spine. I love that he loves being shirtless. And that he’s going to be my husband soon. “I’m listening,” I prompt.
Noah launches into his idea, and I lose myself in his animated speech. He is enamored with storytelling and the art of crafting a novel. And he’s brilliant at it. I haven’t told him this, but ever since he told me he had books published, I immediately downloaded every one to my e-reader. I couldn’t wait until I got back to Juniper Grove. I’ve started reading in the wee hours of the morning while he sleeps soundlessly on the floor beside me, still too much of a gentleman to give in to my desperate pleas for him to fall asleep beside me just so we can cuddle. He says if he wakes up in the middle of the night holding me, he might not be able to control himself. And while I love his intentions, it’s driving me mad knowing he’s right there next to me but so far away. But I respect his boundaries just as he respects mine with the double entendre jokes. Ultimately, I don’t know what I would do if he wasn’t the one holding back. People widely talk about how a man struggles with this stuff, but I’m here to say women do, too. Self-control is a fragile thing.
But back to his stories. He writes with heart, telling love stories with depth and truth. If he hasn’t been touted as the nextNicholas Sparks—better than Nicholas Sparks—he should be. He might not have ever experienced real love, and I can see where readers found flaws in his male main character of the second book, but overall? Noah, whether he believes it or not, knows how to transpose the idea of love to the written word. I guess some people didn’t have enough depth to them to realize it, and I hate that those critiques have impacted him and made him believe for even one second he didn’t understand love.
“Noah, you should consider taking your books to a publishing house. You deserve all the recognition for your talent.”
He sets his laptop down and scoots it away from the edge before patting his lap, indicating for me to take a seat on the throne that will be permanently mine as soon as we get back to the States and announce our engagement. After we meet each other’s families, we plan to have a small ceremony before moving me to his house in Hartfield. We talked about every detail last night between spicy kisses, fiery touches, and heated stares.
An outdoor ceremony in my parent’s yard.
My pastor will perform it after we go through a little counseling.
And we will have orange poppies as our flower.
