He isn’t afraid to be seen with me.
He isn’t afraid to touch me, and he certainly isn’t afraid toloveme.
I hadn’t realized it, but all I ever wanted in this life was to have someone love me freely, and that’s exactly what he does every single day of our lives.
“Are you nervous?” he asks. His deep voice is low enough for only me to hear, and I shake my head.
“We’re up against the new Avatar movie. Chances of us winning are slim to none. I’m just proud that the salon is even nominated to begin with.” I take his hand in mine, placing them both on my lap. “How’re you feeling, Mr. Best New Actor?” The pride I feel in my chest for this man is something I’ve never been able to put into words.
It’s suffocating, sometimes.
Any new sensation that overrides my senses, I put it down to love.
I’ve never known what it truly felt like to be in it, and all I want to do is tell every single person I talk to that I am Cole’s, and he is mine.
I refuse to run from something this good.
Not anymore.
So, yeah. I’m proud of him and everything he’s accomplished so far, and everything I know he’s yet to achieve and has set his sights on.
He’s had job offers upon job offers, but Tate has been accepting only the ones he predicts will be successful and worth his time.
Cole has also been very adamant on as minimal travel as possible, too, even though I told him I will follow him wherever he needs me to.
Work can wait. I know that now.
He and I have taken four vacations in the last year alone. He’s bringing out a part of me I didn’t know existed, and I hope this version of me sticks around forever.
Because I love me, and I never thought I’d be able to say those words.
I’m happy.
I’m confident.
I’m in love, and it’s all little Jenna ever wanted in life.
“I feel like I’m going to be sick,” he admits, his tanned face palling at the realization that his category is quickly approaching, even though it’s the last to be announced for the night. Which means no alcohol until the after party. I rub his back to comfort him.
“Here, drink this.” I slide my glass of ice-cold water across the table to him, and he smiles in thanks, taking a sip.
The categories fly by quickly, and I was wrong about Avatar winning. Some gory, horror movie with all kinds of special effects took out the trophy for our category, but I don’t mind it at all.
They deserved it.
Elias clears his throat as he takes the stage, and my hand grips Cole’s tighter, while Cassandra and Lizzie have their arms wrapped around each other in anticipation of their youngest sister.
“Please give your warmest welcome to America’s newest pop star, Olive Herring, and her husband, NBA superstar, Avery Jones,” he says. His voice soaring into the microphone as the crowd rises to their feet, cheering on our girl.
Cassandra has tears flowing freely down her cheeks that she’ll no doubt blame on postpartum hormones, and Lizzie is pumping her fist in the air while chanting her sister’s name.
I just smile when I look at the three of them.
We may not share blood, but they treat me as though I do.
“Good evening, everybody,” Olive says, greeting the crowd with an authentic smile, and it takes a minute for the applause to die down. Avery’s face remains stoic. His piercing blue eyes are honed in on his wife, with his jaw clenched completely shut.
Wife.
