Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 15252 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 76(@200wpm)___ 61(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15252 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 76(@200wpm)___ 61(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
“I love you so much,” I blubber, kissing him clumsily.
“I love you more, baby,” he murmurs.
“I can’t wait to be your wife,” I say, already imagining how much fun I’m going to have planning our wedding.
“You’re already planning the day in your head, aren’t you?” he laughs, knowing me too well.
“Yup,” I chirp, grinning. “It’s going to be perfect!”
I never expected to find the love of my life when I was getting a washer fitted, but damn, am I happy I did.
EPILOGUE
HARVEY
Two Years Later
“Look how cute this is!” Hailey squeals, holding up a newborn-size onesie and staring at it adoringly, her other hand resting on her round belly.
“Isn’t it the same as the five hundred other teeny tiny onesies we have at home?” I ask, though I know better than to protest when she puts it in the basket. Hailey loves shopping normally, and add in being eight months pregnant and hormonal, she’s obsessed with any shop that has a good baby section. Saying no to her has never been something I’m inclined to do anyway, but now that she’s carrying my child, there’s no way in hell I’ll deny her anything she wants. Even if we do have a million little baby clothes already.
“No, this one’s ivory, not white,” she says primly, raising her brow in an I dare you to challenge me look that I can’t help but smile at.
“Sure, baby,” I agree, following her dutifully through the aisles. There’s only seven weeks until the baby’s due, and it can’t come soon enough. Aside from our wedding day, I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited and full of anticipation in my life.
Hailey looks gorgeous in a long, blue maternity dress that shows off her bump perfectly. Her hair is swept up in a simple bun, and the spring sunshine makes her glow even more than she normally does.
I grab my phone out of my pocket and snap a few candid photos of her shopping for bottles and pacifiers, a huge smile on her face the whole time. She notices me taking pictures and laughs, her eyes sparkling.
“You should be my assistant full-time,” she jokes, nudging her shoulder against me. “Never mind the whole handyman career, taking photos of your wife is your true calling.”
I know she’s teasing me, but I’d happily take photos of her all day, every day. She’s so fucking beautiful that it needs to be captured at all times.
We might have been together for three years now, but her sass and my need to tease her hasn’t declined in the slightest. If anything, we’re only growing more sassy towards each other as the years go on. I can’t wait for our child to join in on the chaos.
“Well then, who would fix all the bad DIY you try to do?” I tease her, laughing when her jaw drops in fake outrage.
“Excuse you,” she sasses back, tossing a box of Goldfish in the basket that is absolutely not for the baby but instead to satisfy her pregnancy cravings. “I’m the queen of DIY.”
“Uh-huh, sure you are, beautiful,” I answer, a heavy dose of sarcasm in my words.
A soft baby hat hits the side of my head as Hailey throws it at me in response, and both of us burst out laughing, unable to help ourselves.
On the way home, I stop to grab our fries and cola, another of Hailey’s cravings I particularly love because it means I also get to eat fries for lunch. I carry our shopping haul from the car to the front door. Our house is decorated in color as always, matching the flowers blooming in the front yard.
I take the bags straight through to the baby’s nursery, finding Hailey’s beat me there.
“What are you doing, baby?” I ask, setting the bags down and cocking my head at her. She’s on the floor surrounded by pieces of wood and screws she’s unpacking from the baby’s crib box.
“Building the crib!” she says, as though it’s obvious.
“Right,” I drawl, holding back laughter as she dumps out a bag of screws onto the carpet without separating them into the correct piles.
“Keep your judgment out of my zone,” Hailey declares, shooing her hands at me. “I’ve got this!”
I just nod and back away, letting her attempt it despite the fact we both know this isn’t going to go well. I make myself useful by doing the dishes and starting on dinner, listening out for her frustrated groans and muttered curses that make me smirk. I can picture the pout on her face and the annoyance in her tone as she curses out the crib for not building itself.
Hailey is perfect, my absolute dream woman, but a skilled DIY-er, she is not. That’s my role, but she finds great amusement in trying to prove that she could take over if she really wanted to. It hasn’t worked out quite how she wants it to yet, though. Rescuing her projects quickly became one of my favorite hobbies, making whatever she was attempting to turn out the way she wanted it just to see the absolute happiness on her face. She does so much for me that doing this for her is an honor.