Page 86 of Owned By The Cowboy
“I remember you mentioning it,” Blayne says.
When did she mention it? And how did he remember, with everything these kids say? I shake my head. Stil smiling, still overwhelmed.
“Where’s Jaylen’s room?” I finally ask.
“Next door.”
Jaylen’s room is the most teenage boy room I’ve ever seen. Dark blue walls, a built-in desk, and, I shit you not, a mini fridge in the corner.
“A mini-fridge?” I ask, turning to Blayne.
“Figured he’d want snacks without having to come downstairs,” he explains with a pretend-innocent grin, scratching the back of his head.
“This is so cool,” Jaylen says, and he actually sounds excited for once. “Can I really have whatever I want in the fridge?”
“Within reason,” Blayne tells him with a stern look. Good, cause I don’t have it in me right now to worry about the potential hazard a fridge inside a teenage boy’s room represents. Talk about growing bacteria…
“What about the master?” I ask, because if he’s done this much for the kids’ rooms, I’m almost scared to see what he did to ours.
Our bedroom, God, our bedroom, has been completely transformed. There’s still his big bed and dresser, but now there’s also a vanity area with perfect lighting and a mirror that probably cost more than my car. And through a doorway that definitely wasn’t there before…
“Blayne Madison, is that… is that a closet?” I ask, almost running.
“Walk-in closet,” he replies. “With an island and everything.”
I walk into the closet of my dreams. Built-in organizers, perfect lighting, an island in the middle with drawers for jewelry and accessories. It’s bigger than my bedroom in the cottage.
“Blayne,” I say, and my voice comes out all shaky. “This is too much.”
“It’s not too much.”
“You built me a closet. A whole-ass closet.”
“You need space for your clothes.”
“I could’ve used half of yours.”
“Now you don’t have to.”
I turn around to look at him, and he’s leaning against the doorframe watching me with a soft expression.
“Why?” I ask, swallowing with difficulty.
“Why what, baby?”
“Why did you do all this, handsome?”
He takes a step closer, wrapping his large, warm hand at the back of my neck. “Because I love you. Because I want you to be happy here. Because this is your home now, not just mine.”
“But the time, the money, the work…”
“Worth it. Every single second. And don’t talk to me about money. We have more than enough for anything we need.”
“How do you know it’s worth it?” I ask. And goddammit, I’m gonna cry again.
“Because you’re standing in your new closet looking like, you might cry happy tears. The kids are overjoyed. That’s all I wanted.”
He’s right. I am about to cry overwhelmed, grateful, can’t-believe-this-is-my-life tears.
