“You and me,” she agrees, nodding.
We both gaze quickly around our new place, taking in every nook and cranny of the smart space. At the entrance is a tiny laminate-topped table for two with storage under the bench seatwhere we were told our clothing and bathroom essentials were stored earlier. Brooke stands directly in front of the one-burner gas stove, oven, and wall microwave, and the kitchen sink that’s the size of a shoebox.
There’s a miniscule closet where cleaning supplies and a few of our belongings are stored across from the all-in-one bathroom—a portion of the Tinkerbell that Sumer boasted about only moments ago, but I’m beginning to believe my brain blocked the finer details out. Brooke opens the door and barely manages to slip in front of where the toilet hangs out over a plastic floor insert, supposedly allowing the tiny space to double as a shower. I do not want to think over the mechanics of that just yet.
“Will you even fit in here?” She’s horrified but clearly curious as she steps out and switches places with me, eagerly shoving me into the bathroom. “Okay, I’m dying to see you in here.”
“Wanna rephrase that?”
“Well, I mean… I don’t want to see you use the bathroom, but…”
I raise my eyebrow and turn my head, nearly smacking myself in the face with the shower head. But the message is clear. I will be showering here at some point.
Brooke’s beautiful brown eyes grow into saucers. She smacks my chest playfully. “I don’t want to see you shower either, you perv… Now, sit,” she demands, and I obey, knees hitting the wall directly across from the tiny toilet, much to my wife’s delight. She claps and jumps, shaking the whole trailer. “This is hysterical.”
“You’ll be here soon, too, wifey, and these particleboard walls are real thin.” I knock on the wall, and Brooke growls low in her throat. I don’t know if it’s because she claims she hates when I call her wifey, which I don’t believe for a second, or if therealization that we are about to get even more familiar with each other has just hit.
Up close and personal, if I have my way.
She turns quickly like she’s got places to be, but the only corner of this place we haven’t seen yet is the bedroom and the sole, full-sized bed tucked away just beyond the baby-bathroom. It’s my turn to laugh and clap, but I don’t, because I’m playing this thing cool—and raising praise hands at the idea of holding Brooke in my arms tonight while we fall asleep next to each other is not playing it cool.
But inside, y’all, I’m glowing like I hit a home run.
“Well, isn’t that bed just so cozy.” I’m only a little smug.
Brooke doesn’t respond. She’s a wide-eyed cartoon who’s just seen a ghost. Certainly not the response from her I have fantasized about at the thought of sleeping with me.
“One bed,” she whispers. “There’s only one bed. It’s like one of Winnie’s romance books.”
“Close proximity, too.” I haven’t read any of them, but I’ve listened to Winnie drone on and on about the romances she reads for the Honey Hill book club. I’d say close proximity fits the bill here. I’ve gotta admit, I’m starting to get the hype. As opposed to my place, we’re essentially on top of each other.
I am downright giddy.
Brooke’s clearly freaking out, though. Those imaginary borders quite literally dissolving before her eyes. I’m about to offer to sleep on the floor and hopefully put her mind at ease when a speaker blares through our camper.
“Contestants,” Sumer Morrision’s voice croons. “Welcome to your temporary homes. We hope you’ll find your living spaces, with your Suite Heart, acceptable for the foreseeable future. We know you’re going to love all the games we have planned.”
There’s light cheering from the neighboring trailers. Brooke and I join in, then take out the video camera we were providedwith when Sumer tells us to do so, encouraging us to record as many of our experiences as possible.
“Now, to start our competition, we’re going to play a friendly version of theNewlywed Game. If you’ll use the drop-down ladders located in your ceilings, we’ll meet you up top to see who truly knows their Suite Heart best.”
Recording Brooke’s response, I say “You think you know me pretty well, Babe?”
Brooke’s answering smile is my favorite—confident and sexy and a little secretive, because we both know she’s the person who knows me best. And likewise, I know her. “Oh, I think we’ve got this in the bag, Ruth.”
Then, doing what I’ve done every chance I get over the last week of marriage, I stretch the camera out so we’re both in the frame and tilt her chin to mine, taking advantage of this glorious opportunity, and kiss Brooke gently on the lips. She thinks it’s for the camera, meeting my lips tentatively, but it’s all for me.
For us.
Because I’m in it to win it, and Brooke is the prize.
10
PAPER RINGS
TAYLOR SWIFT
BROOKE
