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“I could officially change my first name, too, right? While we’re already going to need to do paperwork?”
Leaning back, careful not to touch anything with his greasy hands, Wynnter covers his eyes with his arm. His Adam’s apple bobs in a tight swallow.
“Wynn?”
“Sorry,” he murmurs, voice rough. “I’m trying not to cry.”
Breath fills his huge chest.
He swears. “I just love you. So much.”
I feel that. It’s in the air around him. Heavy in the cab. Saturating every action he performs. Permeating every word he’s ever said to me.
Gravelly, he asks, “You really wanna keep the name I gave you?”
Face heating, I say, “Yes, I do. I want to keep everything you give me. First names…and lasts.”
Lowering his arm, he looks at me with glassy eyes and whispers a swear. “December Winslow. My wife.”
As he leans across the console to touch a tender kiss to my lips, I know I’m going to be both content and happy with him forever.
Chapter 11
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Huh. Well then. Excuse me while I keep my pretty little princess crown.
December
It has been three weeks since I’ve come to live in bliss. My parents still message me daily, making sure I’m okay. I tell them I’m more than okay. They tell me to come home anyway. Please. Just to visit. Just so they’ll know I’m really okay. I’ve picked up a few calls, to let them know I’m really okay, but I’ve regretted every single one since they all have inevitably devolved into lectures that seem so…misinformed…with absolutely no hope of becoming informed.
Because they refuse to let me say five words in a row.
It has been three weeks of endless joy. Three weeks of learning. Three weeks of coming to some striking conclusions, top of which is that Wynnter isn’t a poor boy struggling in the slums at all.
In frank terms, he’s loaded.
His work doesn’t involve constantly being on the phone or in meetings or at his desk, but he’s still regularly taking jobs that bring home over a thousand dollars in a single day. The first check I accidentally saw left out in the kitchen blew me away. The second one shattered my misconceived notions. And now that I’m staring at a third, I wonder if he’s leaving them around on purpose.
Brows lowering, I snatch the stub off the kitchen counter and march out to the garage to find Wynnter cleaning his tools. Cleaning them. I blink. I didn’t think men cleaned their tools like this. It’s…pretty. The way he’s so careful about getting every last bit of metal wiped down before putting the tool back in his box captivates me for several long moments.
Then I remember why I marched out here.
Lifting my chin, I state, “Wynn-Wynn?”
He grunts. “Yeah, babygirl?”
I flutter, because I’m still not used to the way he claims me like that, in that tone, with such raw ownership. Nearly distracted again, I regain myself and present the check. “Can we talk about this?”
He looks up. His gaze grazes the paper in my hand. “You want it?”
“Huh?”
His chin lifts, referencing. “The money.” His eyes hit mine. “You need?”
My lashes flutter as I blink at him. I am holding over two thousand dollars, what is he talking about?
When I don’t reply, he pauses tidying up his screwdrivers and pins his focus on me. “I was gonna add it to a CD that’s reaching maturity in a few days, so I left it on the counter to help me remember, but if you need it, that’s fine. You’ve not really bought anything the whole time you’ve been here.”
