Page 2 of The Thinnest Air
He claims his first one doesn’t count. They were young and fresh out of high school. Since they were divorced by the time he graduated from college, there were never any children involved. Andrew says he barely remembers that time in his life, and he always seems to struggle to remember her name, squinting as if he has to think on it. He was too busy studying and boozing it up at Notre Dame, opting to play rugby in his spare time rather than take his young sweetheart on cheap, college-town dates.
Erica came next, though I try not to think of her if I can help it, and I sure as hell won’t let her ruin this beautiful moment.
She detests me.
But the feeling is mutual.
“Say that again.” I roll to my back, keeping my flute upright and draping the sheets between my legs.
“Say what again?”
“Wife.” I take a sip, hiding the grin I haven’t been able to lose since he kissed me in front of three hundred and seventy-six of our closest friends and family.
Andrew takes the spot beside me, dragging his palm along his dimpled chin as he smirks.
“You’re my wife,”he says, taking his time.
Staring up at him, I study his chiseled jaw and boyish good looks. He has the eyes of a much younger man, but the salt and pepper at his temples is a sexy bonus. And he’s crazy smart. He can talk about stocks and bonds and equities and securities in a way that intimidates even the top brokers in his field.
“You’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” I say, reaching my hand to his face and dragging my fingertips along his perfect lips. “I can’t believe we’re married.”
Seven months ago, I didn’t know Andrew.
Six months ago, I was waiting tables at a café in Denver when he came in with a group of men, all in dark business suits and solid ties. I took his order first, and his hand grazed mine when he passed me the menu. He smiled. I smiled. Everything else faded away for a single, endless moment.
“It happened so fast, didn’t it?” he asks, tucking one hand behind his head as he stares at the ceiling, basking in afterglow. “Guess I couldn’t stand to let you get away.”
I knew Andrew was going to be different from the rest when our first date didn’t consist of burgers, beers, or baseball. He wore a suit and tie when he picked me up. When we arrived at the restaurant, he approached the hostess stand, confirming our reservations, and when we ordered our meals, he knew exactly which wines would pair with mine.
During the entirety of our date, not once did his eyes wander to a single passing beautiful woman. He held every door. Used “please” and “thank you” when appropriate. Didn’t utter a single word about any of his exes. And not once did he check his phone in my presence.
In the hours leading up to our date, I was worried we wouldn’t have anything in common. From what I gathered via a tiny bit of social media stalking, he was a single father with two children. He worked in finance. And he didn’t spend much time online, his last Facebook post being four years ago.
Breath. Of. Fresh. Air.
After dinner, Andrew whisked me off to a symphony, fetching me wine at intermission and waiting for me outside the ladies’ room without complaining once.
When my left high heel broke as we were walking to his car that night, I found myself with a twisted ankle. That’s what I got for borrowing my roommate’s cheap shoes. But rather than slip his arm around me and let me hobble back to the car and ending the date on an awkward note, he carried me in his arms like a groom would carry his bride. People gawked at the scene with their old-money stares and sour faces, but Andrew didn’t pay them any attention.
His only concern wasme.
When he took me home that night, he helped me to bed, got me ice and aspirin, brought my phone and plugged it in to the charger, and then he stayed until I fell asleep.
That’s the kind of man Andrew Price is.
And I’ve yet to find a single twentysomething-year-old man with half the class as the man who captured my heart when I least expected it.
He’s everything I never knew I wanted.
Everything I need.
Rolling closer, I rest my cheek on his chest, listening to the steady, constant thrum of his heartbeat and inhaling the indulgent scent of his bare skin as my body submits to a wave of exhaustion.
I’m spending the rest of my life with Andrew Price.
And that makes me the luckiest girl alive.
CHAPTER 2
