Page 29 of Cherry Moon

G put the tray down on the bed, taking me by the shoulders. “I’m here.”

Cue a lovely cuddle, his big hands stroking my spine.

“This shit is exhausting,” I complained.

“It’s okay.”

As much as I loved being comforted by this stud muffin of the highest caliber, it didn’t help my frustration. The walls seemed to slide in closer, my chest far too tight, and my anger in need of escape.

This Aki required blood and steel and some backflipping kick-arsey to make things better, to show the enemy it wouldn’t be stopping me.

I sighed, breaking free of the cuddle.

He cupped my face with both hands. “Aki…”

I nuzzled against his touch. “Thanks for always being you.”

“Forever.”

“You’re the best, multiplied by infinity.”

“And I came bearing mac ‘n’ cheese.”

Whoa, that perked me up. The man made the most elite mac ‘n’ cheese in the universe.

“It’s a ready meal,” he added.

My perkiness tempered. “Cool.”

“I emptied them into bowls for presentation.”

Cute. “Awesome.”

“Not awesome, but better than nothing.” He pecked me on the lips. “When this is over, I’ll make you a fresh one.”

“Promise?”

“Always.” He noticed the candle and holy book. He did his thing, also having forgotten about it, then directed me to the bed and the grub.

The cheesy pasta gooiness wasn’t too bad really. A few slices of garlic bread would’ve elevated the shit out of it, but at least it wasn’t cold gruel and misery in a bowl.

We sat side by side, eating, enjoying some quiet time.

“I thought we could talk about our honeymoon,” he said after he finished another bite.

I swallowed a cheesy lump. “Oh, yeah?”

The missing piece of our wedding puzzle—something we didn’t want to rush. It wasn’t an easy decision to make, since both of us were hesitant to travel.

“Tell me if you think this is rubbish,” he added.

I giggled. He’d replaced trash with rubbish recently, picking up the British idiom from me and from living in the UK for so long.

“Go on,” I pressed.

“Why don’t we do a camp out at home? Get some tents, fairy lights, even a sand box. Turn it into our own special resort. We’ll have cocktails, music, and never have to get dressed if we don’t want to.” He winked.

I tingled all over, my honey bunny knowing all the right happy buttons to push. “Mr. Dawson, you are defo barking up the right tree.” Man, the way my lips spread into a grin was almost painful. “I love it. Sign me up.” I leaned over to kiss him. “But only if you’re sure.” A slight twinge of unease tempered the joy. “I don’t want to hold you back.”