Page 129 of Bound To Be Mine

He thought about it. “I used to play tennis. Haven’t had time in years, but I enjoyed it. And I like to read, though lately it’s been all legal thrillers and case files.”

“I could see you playing tennis,” I said. “Very country club.”

“What about you?”

“I like hiking when I have time. And I’ve done yoga a few times, though I’m terrible at it.”

“We have some places to hike,” he said. “Not like you do here, but we’ll find places.”

Briggs had let down his guard in front of me. It was completely gone. He was the man I saw in the videos and he was sitting right here without a bottle of tequila in him.

He’s the man I want to spend the rest of my life with.

39

BRIGGS

Istood in the middle of my penthouse—our penthouse—watching the movers bring in the last of Mandy’s boxes. Two months of flying back and forth, of living out of suitcases and missing each other, were finally over. She was here. For good.

My wife was home.

“That’s the last of it,” the mover said, handing me the clipboard to sign.

I scrawled my signature and handed it back along with a generous tip. “Thanks for your help.”

As soon as the door closed behind them, I turned to find Mandy standing in the middle of the living room, surveying the organized chaos of boxes. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, she was wearing jeans and one of my old T-shirts, and she looked absolutely perfect.

“Welcome home,” I said.

She turned to me, her face breaking into a beautiful smile. “Home. I like the sound of that.”

“Come on.” I took her hand. “I want to show you something.”

“Briggs, I’ve been here dozens of times. I know the layout.”

“Humor me.”

I led her through the living room, pointing things out as if she’d never seen any of it before. “So this is the living room. Great views of the city. Those windows you see? Floor to ceiling. Very expensive. The couch is new. I got rid of the old one because you said it was too stiff.”

She laughed. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted you to be comfortable.” I pulled her toward the kitchen. “And this is the kitchen. Fully stocked, by the way. I may have gone overboard at the grocery store.”

I opened the fridge with a flourish. Inside was everything I knew she loved—the fancy yogurt she preferred, the specific brand of almond milk she used in her coffee, fresh berries, and some overpriced organic juice she claimed was worth it. We had found it at one of the local markets the last time she was here. I bought about six different types of cheese because I couldn’t remember which one she liked best. But I knew she loved charcuterie boards. I had a whole drawer of various meats.

“Oh my God.” She peered inside, then looked at me. “You got all my favorites.”

“And the pantry.” I opened it to reveal shelves stocked with her preferred snacks, the brand of granola bars she ate for breakfast when she was running late, her favorite tea, and enough chocolate to survive a nuclear winter.

“You really did go overboard,” she said, but she was smiling.

“I wanted you to have everything you needed.” I closed the pantry and took her hand again. “Bathroom next.”

I led her to the master bathroom, where I’d carefully arranged all her products. Her shampoo and conditioner. Bubble bath. Face masks. Everything I’d seen her use over the past few months, I made sure to have ready for her.

“Briggs,” she said softly, picking up the bubble bath. “This is incredible.” She set it down and turned to me, her eyes suspiciously shiny. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I wanted to. You are home with all your creature comforts.” I squeezed her hand. “Now for the real surprise. Close your eyes.”