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Of course she does.
“She also says breakfast doesn’t have a time.”
That explains a lot.
“And we’re making snowmen, but mine looks like a bear.”
“I’d like to see it.”
His face lights up even more. Then he twists in my arms. “Noelle! Daddy’s home!”
I look up and see my wife.
Fuck.
Every thought in my head disappears. She’s standing on the other side of the island. I’ve seen her picture. I’ve seen dozens of pictures. I’ve watched her over FaceTime. None of that has prepared me for this.
She’s soft. That’s my first coherent thought. Soft everywhere. Soft brown hair falling around her shoulders, a soft pink sweater slipping off one shoulder, soft round cheeks gone pink from the heat of the kitchen.
And curves. Christ. Her curves make my mouth water like I’m a goddamn dog. The sweater skims over full breasts before disappearing into black leggings that hug lush hips and thick thighs.
She’s short. I knew that too. Five-four. Five-four means nothing on paper. Five-four in my kitchen means the top of her head wouldn’t reach my chin.
My hands could span—
Stop.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
This is Noelle.
My wife.
The woman I specifically chose, without regard to physical appearance, because physical appearance was irrelevant to the arrangement. At least that’s what I thought. What I expected.
Apparently, I’m a fucking idiot.
She stares at me. Her brown eyes get bigger. Her lips part. She’s holding a dish towel in both hands, twisting it. Around and around. And on her left hand, catching the light from the window over the sink, is my ring. The one that matches my own.
I’ve known she had it. I paid for it. I had it sent. But I didn’t know if she wore it and I never had the balls to ask. It looks like it belongs there, and I don’t know what to do with that.
Neither of us says anything.
Dottie clears her throat loudly.
Noelle blinks.
“Oh.”
That’s it?
Just oh?
I don’t know why that tiny word hits me directly in the dick.
Her gaze drops. Not to the floor. To my chest. Then lower. All the way down to my boots. And then slowly back up. Well, that’s interesting. I feel her gaze as intimate as a touch.
“Hi,” I say.
