Page 67 of Walkoff Wedding

But I don’t. Because nothing has ever felt right the way that Addie does.

chapter nineteen

Addie

Stop thinking about it, Addie. Just. Stop.

I tell myself for the hundredth time as I walk through the front door of our apartment after working on my art thesis for most of the afternoon.

Except that’s the problem. I can’t stop thinking about it, and believe me, I’ve tried.

Can you blame me? My… husband not only looks like some mythological Greek god walking among mortals and is talented at basically everything he does, but he also does this thing with his fingers that should quite literally be illegal.

And of course, being the perpetual overthinker that I am, I’ve been replaying last night over and over in my head and thinking about how there’s literally no way that we’ll ever be able to go back to the way things were… before. And then there’s also the tiny little detail that we didn’t actually decide what happens from here, which has my thoughts going in a hundred different directions and making it impossible to focus on anything… other than my husband.

Groaning, I drop my backpack onto the foyer table and bury my face in my hands.

God, what was I thinking?

Oh, that’s right… I wasn’t. Well, now I’m thinking yet again about Grant’s long, ridiculously talented fin?—

“Addie?”

My head whips up, my hands dropping to my sides as Grant walks out of the kitchen wearing a cocky smirk and a backward baseball hat that makes my insides turn molten.

Why is that the most attractive thing I’ve ever seen? A dull throb begins to form between my thighs, and I have to press them together to stifle it.

What is happening to me?

“H-hi,” I stutter, then clear my throat and try repeating the greeting. “Hi.”

Grant strides toward me, closing the distance between us, and dips down, pressing the softest kiss to the corner of my mouth. I’m so surprised that I don’t even have a thoughtful response, and instead, I’m stuck with my jaw hanging slightly open and my cheeks burning yet again.

I wasn’t expecting him to be here this evening. I figured he would be working out with the team or out with Davis and the guys. Or… something.

And now, I’m feeling nervous and shy all over again, even though he’s… you know… done that thing with his fingers.

“I can practically see what you’re thinking from here, ArtGirl.” He chuckles, brushing the pad of his thumb along my heated cheeks. “C’mon, let’s go eat, and we can… talk.”

Talking is good.

Great.

Wonderful even.

He turns, disappearing into the kitchen, and I take a single moment to attempt to breathe normally and collect myself before joining him. This is weird, but also good weird? I don’t know what I’m feeling. Besides… horny, that is.

I feel like I don’t even know who I am right now. My body is betraying me in ways I’ve never experienced, and I’m not sure what to make of any of this.

Auggie whines from the floor by my feet, so I crouch down and give him a few scratches before leaving him belly up on the floor.

“Wow. You cook?” I ask as I walk into the kitchen, taking in the fully set table and steaming food already on plates. Apparently, he’s full of surprises.

He pours water into our glasses with a satisfied smile, his shoulder dipping nonchalantly. “Sometimes. Growing up, since it was just my mom and I… there were a lot of nights I had to cook when she worked overnights at the ER. I got tired of mac ’n’ cheese and ramen pretty quickly, so I watched some YouTube videos and learned the basics. Helps now that I’m on my own. Well, I was on my own.”

I walk over and sit in the chair beside his, scooting forward as he joins me. I’ve noticed that when Grant talks about his mom, he gets this look in his eyes, a softness that is reserved just for her. It’s clear how important she is to him… and I love that he’s not afraid to show his emotions. A lot of people, including myself, have a hard time showing vulnerability, and I just love that about him. And I love that I’m beginning to know these things about him.

“Well, I’m really impressed, and I bet she’s really proud of you,” I say, picking up my glass and taking a small sip of water before setting it back down on the table. “Not only because you learned to cook. But because you’re selfless, kind, and compassionate, Grant.”

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