“We’ll live in my apartment while we wait for the closing on the townhouse.”
I step back. “Are you…”Out of your mindprobably wouldn’t be the right reaction given the circumstances. “Sure?”
“Yes. The cats are there anyway, and it’s only for a few weeks.”
“Your shower is tiny.” I name one of the zillions of objections that spring to my mind.
She chuckles. “It has hot, running water.”
“The commute…”
She folds her arms, scowling.
I sigh. “Okay, we’ll live there.” God help me. “Can I take you shopping now?” I suggest, because first, Sissy killed the mood, and second, I want to treat this amazing, understanding woman.
“I don’t need more islands,” she deadpans.
“I was thinking another hospital stay,” I tease.
“If I break your nose, perhaps. Not funny. What do you have in mind?”
Laughing, I take her hand. “Let’s start with a ring.”
“So your girlfriends don’t mistake me for a maid?”
I guess she saw Sissy’s pointed look.
Shopping with a woman is generally painful. Shopping with my wife is torture. Mostly because she doesn’t want to buy anything.
But the ring on her finger—my ring—improved my mood, so I suffer. At least the world knows now that she is mine.
And hopefully, one day soon enough, she will accept it.
“Let’s just ease you into it. Why don’t we set a budget, and you just forget about what you need and lean into what you want?” I walk through the door of a boutique.
“Okay, so what’s the budget?” Cora asks, her tone light, humoring me.
“Let’s start you slowly. Fifty thousand.” I shrug.
She laughs, but stops wide-eyed. “You’re serious?”
“Not enough?” Fuck, I should have said one hundred.
She shakes her head and walks around. She runs her fingers over the silky blouses on a rack, her eyes scanning the minimalist decor.
Finally, after what feels like half a lifetime, she picks some garments that the shop assistant takes to the changing room for her immediately.
Cora stops by the accessories and browses through the headbands. “You’re awfully invested in buying me new clothes. What’s wrong with my old clothes?”
“I saw how the dress for the luncheon transformed you. You may discount it as something silly or frivolous, but dressing for success is a real thing, sweetheart.”
She eyes me for a moment. “Or you just don’t want to be ashamed of me.”
I lower my mouth to her ear. “Keep talking yourself down, and I will bend you over my knee right here.”
My cock twitches as the shudder reverberates through her body.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she breathes.
