Ignoring the death glare she’s aiming my way, I drop my bags and close the distance between us. In less than two heartbeats, she’s in my arms and I’m crushing her against me in a tight hug. “Goddamn, I missed you. So fucking much.”
Some of the rigid tension bleeds out of Mira’s body with those words, and she sighs, bringing her arms around my waist to hug me back. “Missed you, too, you big, stupid idiot,” she grumbles into my chest.
I can’t help it. I laugh.
“This isn’t funny,” Mira growls. Or at least, she tries to growl. She sounds more like a pissed-off kitten than a scary lion, but hell if I’m going to tell her that when she looks ready to murder me or chop off my balls.
“It’s kind of funny,” I reply before tilting Mira’s chin up and kissing her. It’s soft at first, my lips feathering over hers, teasing, testing. But the moment she goes up on her toes and the softest whimper escapes her throat, the kiss turns bruising. I can’t get enough of my wife’s taste, the feel of her soft lips against mine, the warmth of her tongue as she opens for me and sweeps it inside my mouth.
God, I missed her.
Being apart this long was really wearing on me. I didn’t realize just how much I’ve come to rely on being able to kiss her whenever I want, to hold her as she falls asleep, to watch her beautiful, peaceful face for a few minutes before one of our alarms wakes her and she blinks those gorgeous green eyes at me.
After another minute of making out, Mira pushes me away, albeit reluctantly if her expression is anything to go by. She stares at me for a beat, sighs, and says, “You have to take it back.”
Like hell I’m taking her car back. It’s not happening. I wasn’t kidding when I told Bash I’ve stayed up worried a few nights. “I’m not taking it back, baby. The car is yours. Artax is gone. He finally succumbed to the swamp of sadness.”
“Not funny,” Mira says with a scowl as my lips twitch against the smile I’m fighting. “I’m serious, Griffin. I need my car back.”
Cocking my head to the side, I ask, “Why? It barely ran. My mechanic told me he’d never let someone he loves drive that thing. It’s not safe, sunshine.” She jolts a little at my use of thewordlove, but I barrel on. “This one is safe, has all the bells and whistles you could want, and it matches your sunny disposition.”
She doesn’t love that line of logic. I watch, entranced, as Mira’s eyes flutter closed, her hands clench into fists, and she takes several deep breaths in, holds them, then lets them out slowly.Oh, she’s pissed.
“Griffin, while it’s sweet that you want to take care of me and make sure I’m safe, this is too much. I can’t afford a brand-new car like this.” She pinches the bridge of her nose as her gaze bounces between me and the yellow car.
Ah, stubborn, self-sufficient woman. I should have known this would be a point of contention with her. I should have anticipated this. Running my hands up and down her arms and enjoying the warmth of her, I bend down to look my wife in the eye. “Sweetheart, you really can. You’re my wife. I’m serious when I tell you that what’s mine is yours now. You can afford a way nicer car than this, but I knew you wouldn’t want something super expensive or flashy. Trust me, if it was up to me, you’d be driving around in a yellow G-Wagon, not a Camry.”
Those big, green eyes of hers meet mine, and I see the flash of hope and longing there before she can hide it. My wife is so used to taking care of herself, so used to that fierce independence being a point of pride and a cornerstone of her personality, but deep down, she’s no different from anyone else. She wants to be loved and taken care of. Hell, I doubt there’s a human alive—male or female—who doesn’t. She opens her mouth, probably to protest again, but I beat her to it.
“Mira, I don’t want to sound like an asshole here, but believe me when I tell you that this is nothing for me. This is a drop in the bucket. And I know all of this is a lot for you. Being married to me is a lot…”
Her eyes soften at that, and she reaches up to cup my face. “No, Griffin. Being married to you is not a lot. It’s…” She blowsout a breath that ruffles her hair. “It’s amazing, actually. A little baffling at times, and I still think we should have annulled this right away, but even with all that, being married to you is…”
My chest is tight from holding my breath. My body screams at me to suck in a lungful of oxygen, but my head refuses to miss a single thing this gorgeous woman before me is saying. Everything hangs on the words she speaks next.
“Being apart from you this last week made me realize that being married to you may not have been planned, but it also may be one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.”
Releasing the breath I’ve been holding in a whoosh, I tangle my hand in the hair at the nape of Mira’s neck and tilt her head back to look at me. My heart is thundering like I’ve just completed a brutal shift on the ice, my throat is tight with emotion, and my body thrums with energy. “Do you mean that?”
Mira’s soft fingers stroke my cheek, and her eyes soften even further as she gazes up at me. “Yeah, Griffy, I do.”
I gulp. “Does that mean you’re ready to give this marriage a real shot?”
Please say yes. Please say yes.
I can see the war in her. It plays out vividly over those perfect features I’ve spent so many silent mornings memorizing. Whatever answer she gives me, she’s not without doubts. That’s okay, though. I can work with doubts. What I can’t work with is a steady refusal to continue this marriage. If this is the moment Mira tells me she’s done, I’ll respect that and let her go, six months be damned. It would break me, but it’s better than breaking her by forcing her to stay.
“Look, I’m still not sure about all of this. We did everything backward. But yes, Griffin, I think I’m ready to give this a real shot.”
The moment the words leave her mouth, I’m lifting my wife in my arms, swinging her around, and cheering like we’ve justwon the cup. I still have work to do, but this is progress. Real progress.
Burying my face in her hair, I exhale deeply. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”
Mira runs a hand through my hair. “I’m still pissed about the car.”
That makes me laugh. “Why? Mad I didn’t get you a yellow G-Wagon?”
Her lips purse, and she shakes her head as I finally put her down. “No, hotshot, I’m mad that you didn’t talk to me about it first. You took the decision away from me.”
