Page 112 of Wardrobe Malfunction

Why did I?

“Then, why did you?” His words echo my own thoughts.

I look down at my hands. “I don’t know. I guess, it kind of just popped out because I feel safe with you. I know I can talk to you. Tell you anything. I trust you, Vaughn.”

I finally look back up at him, and the warmth in his eyes coats my skin like a blanket.

“I trust you, too, Pins.”

He kisses my forehead, and then I lay my head back down on his chest and take a sip of my beer.

And I realize something in this moment.

I get to see the real Vaughn West. One not many other people get to see.

I can’t tell you how incredibly privileged that makes me feel because he’s so very special. He’s so much more than what people see on-screen.

He’s smart and witty and beautiful, inside and out, and he’s incredibly talented. I’ve never known a man who loved his family more.

He has such a big heart. A heart that I want to keep all for myself.

I don’t ever want to let him go.

I’m just not sure how I can keep him forever.

Vaughn

It’s a warm evening, so Charly and I decide to walk over to my parents’ house, as it’s only a ten-minute walk.

She’s wearing this sexy strappy, knee-length pink dress that I can’t wait to take off her later. Surprisingly, she doesn’t have heels on her feet; instead, she has on a pair of flip-flops.

She looks beautiful.

I catch hold of her hand as we walk.

She smiles up at me and wraps her other hand over my arm, bringing herself closer to me.

It’s good to be able to walk outside and hold her hand. Okay, so it’s on my parents’ land, not in the middle of town, but still, it feels good.

“This is nice,” she murmurs.

“Yeah, it is.”

And it really is. Not just the hand-holding. Being here with her. I’m usually here on my own. I don’t bring anyone here. I thought it would be weird, her being here, but it isn’t. Having her in my home feels as natural as breathing.

We reach my parents’ house and head on inside. As usual, the noise is at an epic level.

“Uncle Vaughn!”

A swarm of kids run at me, hugging my legs and stomach.

“Hey,” I say to my nieces and nephews. “Kids, this is Charly.”

They all let me go, and four sets of eyes all stare at Charly.

“Charly, this is George.” I pat his head. “He belongs to Meg and Vic. These three are Parker, Thomas, and Nora. They’re Sasha and Greg’s.”

“My mama and daddy are getting married,” Nora tells her.