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Ready for You (Ready #3) Page 50
Author: J.L. Berg

With a light smack to the head, he gave me my answer. “Stop looking behind you, moron.”

Chapter Twenty

~Mia~

Liv had spent the entire day making me laugh, reminding me what an amazing friend she was. I’d had other friends along the way since I left home, but none had been like Liv. She could read my mood with a single glance, hear my thoughts through my expressions, and know what my heart was saying even if I didn’t.

After the great breakfast debacle, I convinced her that a walk would be nice. If we happened to find some edible lunch along the way, it would be even better.

We picked up sandwiches at a small cafe and spent the rest of the afternoon meandering through different stores. I picked up a new skirt and a pretty pair of earrings. Liv tried on practically everything her eyes saw, but she walked away only with a scarf. When I asked her what she was going to do with a scarf in the middle of August, she just smiled.

I suddenly didn’t want to know.

After we walked back to my house, she said her good-byes, and then I ran upstairs and changed into my new skirt. For once, I wanted to look nice when Garrett showed up. Whenever he had come knocking on my door, I had answered it in cutoff shorts or yoga pants. I was feeling kind of slobby.

Barely fifteen minutes past five, Garrett came barreling through my front door—no knocking this time—lugging plastic bags from the home improvement store. Dressed in worn jeans and a dark T-shirt that tightly hugged his body, I wondered just how long he’d been away from work.

Before I got the chance to ask, he dropped the bags in the middle of the living room and swept me up into his arms. His mouth took mine in a fierce kiss as he dug his hands into my hair and pulled me closer.

When we finally broke apart, I was breathless.

My voice was ragged as I asked, “What was that for?”

“I missed you,” he answered with a grin.

“You just saw me this morning!”

“Mmm…I know, but I have lost time to make up for, and you look amazing.”

This time, when his lips touched mine, they were gentle. His mouth moved with mine, slowly tracing the soft fullness of my lips with his tongue. He pulled back, only to reach up and place a tender kiss on my forehead, and I melted. It was such a small thing but so significant in its symbolism.

“Why do you always kiss me on my forehead?” I asked, feeling a little silly every time he did so.

“I like to remind myself how perfect we are together,” he answered with a shy smile.

“And kissing me on my forehead reminds you of this?”

“When we stand face-to-face and I pull you into my arms, you fit perfectly, like you are meant to be there, and I’ve found my missing puzzle piece. I remember the first time I held you and I bent down to kiss your forehead, I thought, Perfect.”

His green eyes found mine, and in them, I saw the boy I’d left coming back to me. The anger he’d become so accustomed to was starting to bleed away, and I only hoped I wouldn’t hurt him again.

Then, you should tell him now, a voice in my head urged.

I quickly dismissed it, too swept up in my newfound bliss.

“Thank you for sending Liv over today. It was nice not to spend the day alone even if she did make me eat rabbit food.”

He chuckled, and I poked his ribs.

“Ouch! It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“No? There are still some baseball muffins in the kitchen if you’re hungry. Why don’t you go try one?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Wuss,” I muttered.

“No, I’m just smarter than you.”

I poked him in the ribs again, and he laughed.

“So, what’s with all the bags? I don’t see any food this time.”

His exuberant grin sent my pulse racing as he reached down and picked up the bags he’d dropped on the floor. He motioned me over to the couch, and we sat down. He started pulling out paint swatches and tile samples.

“You’re remodeling a house?” I asked.

“No, we are. I couldn’t focus at work today, so I took a half day and went shopping.”

I merely stared at him, completely tongue-tied.

He let out a nervous breath. “I wasn’t here to help you with the floors, and I hate that my anger got in the way of that. I’m sick of looking in the past when it comes to us. Wherever we’re going, we need to be headed there together, and I can’t do that if I’m constantly thinking about all the what-ifs and lost moments we could have had.”

My lips parted, and I tried to interrupt him, but he stopped me, placing his finger on my lips.

“Let me finish. I know there are obstacles and roadblocks in our future, but the point to all of this is that we are creating a future, right?”

I nodded, unable to speak. A future with Garrett was all I’d ever wished for, and my heart ached in want from hearing the words.

“So, let’s start doing it. We always wanted to fix up a house, and yours could definitely use it.”

“Hey! I love my house.” I pouted.

Chuckling, he touched my fingers, weaving our hands together. “I love your house, too, but it’s definitely a fixer-upper. With a bit of work, it could be great.” His eyes softened, and he smiled. “It just needs a bit of time and love, like us.”

Yes! I wanted to scream it, but I held it together. He wasn’t asking me to marry him. He just wanted permission to throw some paint on the walls.

“Okay, so where do we start?”

“Wherever you want. We can paint the walls and retile the bathrooms. Hell, we can even give you a new backsplash in the kitchen, if you want.”

I looked around my house. I’d been living within these walls for two months, yet it didn’t feel like home yet. There were no pictures on the white walls, and I had very little furniture. Nothing made it feel mine.

“I want to paint…every single wall.”

He pulled out a huge metal ring that had every color imaginable hanging from it. Dangling it in front of me, he said, “Pick a room and a color!”

We ordered a pizza and spent the rest of the evening hunched over the rainbow of colors, pointing out all the various shades we loved and hated.

“Orange for the bedroom?” I asked with a bit of amusement.

“Yes, it’s perfect.”

“And why is it more perfect than this tranquil blue I picked out?”

“Because that room always has a lingering hint of orange leftover from your lotion, and I’ve always thought orange looks good on you.”

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J.L. Berg's Novels
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