Chapter 25

chapter twenty-five

Addie

I'm slightly freaking out.

By slightly, I mean I'm currently on my… fourth batch of strawberry meringue cupcakes.

Clearly, there's a cupcake crisis happening. And it's entirely my husband's fault.

He's the reason there are forty-eight cupcakes cooling on racks on the marble countertop in our kitchen.

Because they're his favorite. And today's his twenty-third birthday. The first birthday we've shared together, and I just want today to be all about him. He does so much for me and is the most giving person I've ever met; he should have an entire day dedicated to him.

And even then, it doesn't feel like nearly enough.

Almost two weeks have passed since the break-in at the bakery, and now that the new glass on the front cases has been replaced, we should be able to reopen by the end of the week.

And Grant has been a pillar of unwavering strength through every step of the way.

He's kind and patient and reassuring when I'm feeling like there's no light at the end of the tunnel. He's attentive and protective of not just me but also the things that bring me joy. He respects Amos and Earl like they're my parents and understands that they are the most important people in my life.

He's become my best friend , and I'm so in love with him that it scares me.

That's part of the reason why I'm stress baking. Because I want tonight to go exactly as I planned.

After I set the last pan of cupcakes onto the counter to cool, I do a quick whirl around the kitchen and dining room, my eyes roving over all of the details I've been painstakingly working on since Grant left this morning for a meeting with the new brand he's working with.

Breathe, Addie. Everything's going to be great.

I keep telling myself the same thing, but it's done little to quell the wave of anxiety that sits in my belly.

Not only have I spent the majority of the day working on his favorite cupcakes, but I ordered Gino's for dinner and set the table with an array of candles. I'm wearing his favorite dress, the one with the tiny yellow daisies, and I picked out something… special for underneath it.

Hence the main reason my palms are clammy and my heart has been beating in an uneven rhythm the entire day.

I just don't want him to think all of this is… I don't know, silly.

It's the first time in my life I've ever attempted to do anything like this, which makes the sliver of self-doubt inside me bloom.

I want it to be perfect.

Grabbing a spatula from the utensil holder, I fill a pastry bag and start piping frosting on the cupcakes in an attempt to calm my heart and force my brain to shut off for longer than five seconds.

I'm in the middle of filling another bag to frost the second half when I hear the front door slam, nearly causing me to drop the spatula and the entire bowl of icing.

My god.

My hand shakes as I run it down the front of my denim dress, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles, and then brush the braided front pieces of my hair out of my face.

A second later, Grant walks into the kitchen wearing a broad, maddeningly handsome smile that almost causes me to melt into a puddle on the floor. His dark blond hair is combed back, and he's wearing a crisp white button-down tucked into a pair of fitted black slacks, the fabric hugging his muscular thighs.

His eyes find me the second he walks into the room, and it makes my pulse quicken, just as it always does. When he strides toward me, closing the distance between us, realization morphs his face, and he falters, his brows pulling together.

"Hi, beautiful. Uhhhhh… Why are there…" He trails off, his eyes flicking between the dozens of cupcakes on the counter. "So many cupcakes?"

I set the icing-covered spatula on the counter and launch myself at him before my nerves get the best of me, wrapping my arms around his neck. "Because it's your birthday and they're your favorite? Happy birthday, Grant."

I feel the rumble of his chest vibrating against me as he laughs and slides his arms around my waist, holding me tightly against him. "Thank you, baby. But you know you didn't have to make this many, right?"

He pulls back slightly, bringing his hand to my face and brushing his thumb lightly over the ball of my flushed cheek.

"Yes, well, once I started stress baking, I couldn't stop myself."

"Why are you stressed?"

I exhale shallowly. "Because I just want tonight to be perfect. I've been working on it all week, and I want you to have the best birthday."

For a second, he's quiet, his dark blue eyes searching before he dips his head and presses his lips to mine in the sweetest kiss that has a riot of tingles coursing through me.

When he pulls back, lips hovering a breath away from mine, he whispers, "It's already the best birthday I've ever had."

"But you haven't even seen everything yet. There's more," I respond as my eyes lift to his in a daze. It's impossible to be kissed by Grant and not feel like the world has faded out around us.

"Doesn't matter. Because I've got the most beautiful wife in the world, and nothing could ever be better than that."

Okay, officially melting into nothing. I'm hopeless.

My arms tighten around his neck, and I lift on my tippy-toes, pressing another kiss to his mouth. His hands slide along my jaw into my hair, and he pulls me closer as his tongue sweeps along the seam of my lips, demanding access. In a matter of seconds, the kiss turns hungry and desperate, like neither of us can get enough. I'm all but climbing his chiseled body, as embarrassing as that sounds.

Grant tears his lips from mine, staring down at me with a look that I feel all the way to my core. "As much as I want to stay here for the rest of the night kissing you until you can't breathe, I'm fucking starving. Unless… you want to be my dinner?"

Oh my god. Heat rushes to my cheeks, and my eyes widen of their own accord, causing him to toss his head back and let out the raspiest, sexiest laugh I've possibly ever heard.

"W-well… I, uh, I ordered NOLA po' boys. B-But…" I stammer over my words and then just shut my mouth.

Because honestly, I'm squeezing my thighs together at the thought of Grant doing… that.

"I guess that's why my stomach is growling like there's something living in there," he says with a chuckle.

I slip my arms from around his neck and take a step back, turning toward the table. "I got your favorite shrimp po' boy and obviously cooked way too many cupcakes, but at least there's some for later?"

Grant walks to the table, pulling out the chair beside his and gesturing for me to sit. Once I do, he scoots it forward and sits down next to me. As we eat dinner, he tells me about how the meeting with the brand went and how things are going even better than he anticipated.

I love seeing the excitement on his face and how animatedly he talks about their values and how they align with his.

There's no one who deserves this more than him. It may be the off-season, and I haven't seen him play yet, but I have seen the way he trains relentlessly, putting in hours at the gym and training facilities to prepare. He's determined and driven, and I love being able to witness his hard work pay off.

I'm proud of him.

Once we're done eating, he helps me clear the table, even though it takes twice as long because he keeps stopping to kiss me until I can hardly remain upright.

Afterward, I tell him that he has to stay at least a foot away from me until Auggie and I are done singing him happy birthday because I can't even think properly when he's touching me, let alone kissing me.

"These are the best cupcakes of my fucking life, baby." He groans around a mouthful of icing as he leans against the kitchen counter.

"Thank you. I'm glad you like them. I… have something else for you." I walk over to the entry closet and grab the present that I wrapped earlier.

I'm second-guessing it, but it's too late to go back now.

He takes it from me with a boyish smile, one that lights up his entire face. "What did you say to me that one time about spoiling, ArtGirl?"

"It's your birthday. Everyone should be spoiled on their birthday."

I shift nervously on my feet as he slides a finger beneath the silver bow, deftly untying it, then tearing the paper off.

When he sees what's inside, his eyes snap to mine. "Baby…"

"I know it's probably silly, but I just…" I trail off, my gaze dropping down to where I'm fingering the hem of my dress nervously.

I feel him in front of me before I even see that he's moved, closing the distance between us so quickly that my breath hitches. The pad of his finger finds my chin, and he tilts it up, pulling my gaze to his.

"It's not silly. It's perfect, and I love it." He says it with such conviction that I believe him.

I swallow down the tight ball of emotion in my throat before I speak. "It's what I'm going to turn in for my art thesis portfolio. You… You were the only thing I could draw. I started over so many times because nothing ever felt right. I was so frustrated with myself, with my abilities, but then I met you, and… everything just kind of clicked into place. It was like drawing something I'd done a hundred times. It felt like I was drawing from my heart."

The words tumble out of me in a rush, and for the first time, I'm thankful for my nervous rambling because I'm not sure I would've ever had the courage to say any of that out loud otherwise.

Emotion, strong like a current, flows through the deep blue of his irises, and his throat bobs. "It's the best gift I've ever received, Addie." His words are laced with fierce sincerity, and it makes my chest ache.

The canvas he's holding is a sketch of him from the night that we sat under the stars and talked about how big the universe was. It wasn't that long ago, but so much has changed since then, and I was worried that drawing him as my subject would be… too much. But truthfully, Grant's the only thing that feels right anymore. A feeling that's both terrifying and comforting at the same time.

He sets the canvas on the counter and turns toward me, his hands finding my hips and tugging me to him before he wraps his arms tightly around my waist. He's holding me like I'm going to break apart in his hands, and it causes my chest to physically ache. The expression on his face is unreadable, his jaw set in a line as his eyes flick between mine, searching.

"I love you, Addie," he murmurs softly.

"Grant…" His name slips from my lips in a breathless whisper. My heart is thudding so hard in my chest that it feels hard to breathe. I desperately pull in a breath as he continues talking.

"I'm in love with you, and I've wanted to tell you that for weeks, but I wanted everything to be perfect. I wanted the timing to be right and the date I was planning to be something you'd never forget. Because you deserve that, and I want to be the guy that gives you everything. But, Addie, I couldn't wait another second to tell you that I'm in love with you. And that this marriage isn't fake for me. Not anymore. It's the most real thing I've ever felt."

My cheeks are wet with tears when he finishes, and I have a hundred different things that I want to say. But I physically can't stop myself as I throw my arms around his neck, a choked sob escaping against his mouth as I press my lips against his. After a beat of salty, tear-filled kisses, I tear my lips away and say, "I love you too. Just in case you didn't understand what that meant."

Grant chuckles, his breath fanning over my tearstained cheeks as he brings his hand to my face and cradles it in his palm, gently sweeping his thumb to dry them. "I was hoping that's what you meant, but I wasn't sure…"

His voice is light and teasing, and I laugh through a happy sob. "I was afraid to tell you how I felt because I was scared that you wouldn't feel the same way. Our marriage was supposed to be an arrangement, and I didn't want to make things weird between us if I was the only one who had these feelings. I thought maybe that you did, but this entire arrangement was built around pretending. I thought you were just playing the part," I whisper.

He shakes his head as he strokes my cheek, the expression on his face turning soft. "Baby, I'm fucking crazy about you. It hasn't been pretend for me in a long time—honestly, I'm not sure if it ever was. When I kissed you for the first time at that altar, I think a part of me knew, right then and there, that there was no turning back. That there would never be anyone besides you, Addie."

"It's real for me too. All of it, Grant," I murmur softly against his lips. "I… I want to be yours. Really yours."

God, I can't even believe this is happening right now and that I'm saying those words out loud.

"You've always been mine, Addie. Even before you realized it." His voice is low and full of conviction.

I think back to when we only knew each other through a computer screen, how I used to only allow myself a moment, brief and fleeting, to imagine what it would be like to be his. But I knew that my life was too much of a mess, and feared that if we ever really met, a guy like him wouldn't want a girl like me . I thought it would never be anything other than me wishing that my life was different.

Except, all this time later, Grant Bergeron loves me.

We said we would leave things to fate. And by whatever strings that control the universe, we somehow ended up together.

"I've wanted to be yours for longer than you even know, Jockboy," I say, my eyes dropping to his lips before I lift on the tips of my toes and brush my lips against his. I feel more brazen than I've ever felt, and I think it's because I'm comfortable with him like no one else. "Will you… take me to bed?"