Page 106 of Honeymoon Phase
I bite the toast out of her hand and groan my approval. Everything from this woman tastes like heaven, including her body. I press my lips to her shoulder and rest my chin on her, watching her slice a few more pieces.
“I’m going to text your family and tell them if they want to come grab some chili, they can. I made more than you and I will be able to eat in a week.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Smiling, she stops her work on the bread and shoots out a message in a group text that Trista started the night before the Mercantile. The Fletcher Mountain group chat has changed a lot these past couple of years as we’ve folded in the new women who have joined the peak. But it gives me a warm sense of rightness that we’ve included Addison in it now too. It’s mostly jokes and memes, or images of Stevie trying to take her firststeps, and Trista looking similar as she waddles down to the barn to do chores in all her winter gear. Calder just sends pictures of his fucking cat. God, he’s obsessed.
“What do you think about bridesmaids and groomsmen?” Addison asks, licking a dollop of butter off her thumb.
“Huh?” I ask, turning to look at her and not the bread.
“And maybe a flower girl and ring bearer.”
I shift over so I’m standing beside Addison instead of behind her and note those two worry lines are present between her eyebrows. “I feel like you were having a whole conversation in your head, and I need a bit of context before I can answer these questions.”
She brushes crumbs off her hands before lifting her eyes to me, the setting sun casting a golden halo around her wild hair. “When you filled out that questionnaire from your mom, you put that we didn’t want any bridesmaids and groomsmen.”
“I figured that was for the best... all things considered.”
“Right. But things have changed, no?”
My brows lift. We haven’t really had the talk quite yet about what we are. I mean... we’ve admitting to caring about each other obviously, which felt like a huge accomplishment. I guess I was just waiting for the winds to die down before I hit her with another snowstorm. If it was up to me, we’d be walking through the sunset right now.
But it’s not just up to me.
I swallow the knot in my throat, my muscles tightening as I ask the question, “This wedding we’re having in a couple weeks... is it fact or fiction?”
She blinks back at me with a completely unreadable expression that makes me sweat. When will I feel secure with this woman? When will she be able to admit she doesn’t just want me, but she loves me with her whole heart like I love her?
“I think,” she starts, and I feel myself holding my breath, waiting for what she’s about to say. “I think I still need more time.”
Pain.
Deep, cutting, soul-crushing pain.
She notices my mood shift and closes the space between us, cupping my face with her hands. “Don’t look like that.”
“I’m not.” I try to pull away, feeling like a fool.
“You look mad.”
“I’m not mad.”
She exhales out her nose as she waits for me to look her in the eyes. When I do, I hate what I see.
It’s pity.
“Last week, I didn’t want a relationship, a boyfriend, marriage, babies, anything. Now I’m watching you hold your niece on a sled in the snow and I can hardly contain myself.”
My heart lurches at her words. Fuck, does this mean she’s fantasizing about kids? With me? I would not have expected that. Love, yes... obviously.
Kids?
Holy shit.
Do I want kids? Honestly, I haven’t really thought that far ahead. I’ve loved watching Wyatt’s journey with Trista and Stevie, and Max is an amazing father to Everly and Ethan. But for the past several years, I’ve just wanted Addison. I think I’d be okay with kids or no kids as long as it was with her.
She purses her lips, and I watch her throat contract. “I need time to figure out what I’m feeling. Can you understand that?”
