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Like he did with this wild marriage idea.
Like he did the night I broke into Uncle Mike’s.
Like he did with those perfect anniversary gifts.
Like he’s doing now with his arms wrapped around me.
How could I do anything but trust this man?
“I love you too.” There’s no hesitation or doubt in my voice.
Charlie Keller is mine, and I love him.
He smiles down at me. The expression is soft and loving and warms my insides. Selfishly, I also want one of his giant, face-splitting grins, but I’m guessing the fear of what happened today steals the peak of his joy.
“I’m okay.” I stroke my palm down his chest. “You know that, right?”
“Why are you wearing my mom’s clothes?”
“Mine had blood on them.”
“What?” The word whips out hard.
Well, that’s new. Never thought my husband could get such a dangerous edge to his voice. But here he is, glowering like the man is ready to commit violence.
And maybe I’m sick, because the sight has me hot and bothered.
“Dr. Millner already came by to see her.” Regina strolls back into the kitchen, reclaiming her possession of the space. I want to learn that skill: wielding power over an area without a word.
Probably would involve me growing a few more inches.
“What did she say?” Charlie asks.
“She shined a headache-inducing light in my eyes and said I am the embodiment of perfection.” I interlace my fingers with Charlie’s, enjoying the way we fit together.
Regina snorts at my response, and I grin at the woman. I like her. A lot.
I think it’s only a matter of time before I love her almost as much as I do her son.
Charlie settles his free hand on my neck and traces my chin with his thumb. “That’s not news,” he murmurs, before pressing a gentle kiss to my mouth.
Much to my consternation, he doesn’t deepen it, opting instead to hold my eyes with a stern gaze.
“What did she say about your injuries?”
I sigh as if his concern bothers me, when really, I revel in the attention I’m not used to being afforded.
“No signs of a concussion, and the cut on my head isn’t big enough for stitches. For now, I should ice it to keep from getting a huge bump, and if I start feeling funky, I should head to the hospital for more extensive tests.”
“You don’t want to go to the hospital just in case?” Charlie worries his lower lip with his teeth. I want to bite that plump mouth of his.
“I’ve gotten a concussion before, and this feels nothing like it. Just a bit sore. And pissed off. But I’m fine. Here.” I hold out the ice pack I’ve been periodically pressing against my tender skull and sore cheek. “Husband privileges. You get to handle the ice.”
His long fingers accept the cool compress, and he lays it on the area where I direct, holding it in place.
“Can you tell me what happened?” he asks in a low voice that has me complying, though I’d rather forget the whole mess. I run through the events that transpired after I woke up in my childhood bedroom. Charlie keeps quiet through the tale, but I watch his reactions in the tightening of his lips and burn of his eyes.
“I’ll kill him,” he says at the end.
