She cut off my words by pressing her lips to mine. I could taste the saltiness of her tears on my tongue as my mouth consumed hers. I pulled her into my lap, falling back against the side of the bed with her wrapped tightly in my arms.

“Please tell me that means yes…” I whispered into her mouth.

“Yes. Yes. A million times yes, Axel.”

“Oh, thank God. I thought you would say it’s too fast, but I couldn’t wait another day,” I confessed into her neck once I finally allowed myself to breathe.

She pulled back slightly, holding my face in her hands. Her eyes glistened from the soft light shining through the window. “I may have felt that way two months ago, but not anymore. I no longer fear a future with you. The intensity of our love no longer scares me. Almost seven years ago, we planned a life together. It’s about time we finally start living it.”

“You’re not still asleep are you?”

She smiled and pressed her forehead to mine with a giggle. “No. I’m wide-awake. I didn’t know how badly I wanted to live with you until you forced me to. And I didn’t realize how desperate I want to marry you until you just asked. But why does it sound like you’re trying to talk me out of it?”

“Trust me, I’m not trying to talk you out of it. I’m just making sure I go through any excuse I can think of so you can’t use it to back out later. Because once this ring is on your finger, you can’t take it off or give it back. There’s a strict, no-refund policy.”

Bree held out her left hand and spread her fingers wide. “Then put it on, baby.”

I pulled the ring from the box and slipped it on her fourth finger, setting it in place behind the knuckle. I held her hand for a moment, studying the way my ring looked on her before threading my fingers through her hair and yanking her mouth back to mine.

“Do you remember the first time we were in this position?” she asked, slowly rocking her hips into mine.

“How could I forget?”

“Good…because you’re about to relive it. You became my first that day, and now, you’ll be my last.”

Coming early 2016…

Take Your Time

Prologue

Sarah

It was Christmas morning, my favorite day of the year. The house buzzed with excitement as everyone began to show up, filling the rooms with laughter and cheer. The only person missing was Mom. I knew I’d find her in the kitchen, preparing for the big holiday, and I wanted nothing more than to help her like I did every year. I found her leaning against the counter with her head cradled in her hands.

“Everything all right, Mom?” I asked, walking cautiously toward her.

She stood up straight, holding herself up at the sink, and plastered a smile on her face. But I could see the pain in her eyes. I knew right away that her migraines were back. They’d plagued her for years, nearly crippling her at times. But she was on a regular Botox injection treatment plan to keep them away.

“When are you due for more shots?” I asked, grabbing a dishtowel and wetting it with cold water for her forehead.

“Not until next month.”

“That’s weird. You don’t normally get them this bad before treatment, do you?”

She took the rag from my hand and pressed it against her cheeks, dabbing it down her neck. “No. It came on this morning. Out of nowhere.”

“Did you take anything?”

She nodded, the pain clearly too intense to speak.

“Go lay down, Mom. Don’t worry about lunch. I’ll take care of it for you.”

“Sarah, we have guests. I shouldn’t—”

“Mom,” I said sternly, using her motherly tone against her. “Don’t worry about them. Axel’s mom is with his sister’s little boy, the girls are entertaining each other in Ayla’s playroom, the women are chatting about weddings, and the men are discussing ways to keep their women happy. No one will mind if you go lay down for a little bit. I promise, I have everything under control.”

“I’ve trained you well, Sarah. One day, this holiday will be all yours.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She waved me off, moving out of the kitchen. “Just that one day, this family might need someone to step in and take care of the food and decorations and make sure everything is planned to perfection. And you’re the perfect person for the job. It’s the natural progression of things.”

“Stop talking like that, Mom. Go lay down.” I watched her walk back to her room as I finished with kitchen duty, reminiscing about the holidays in the past.

Christmas had always been my most favorite day of the year. No matter how old I’d gotten, it still made me feel like a child again. From the moment the first decoration went on sale at the local gardening store, or the first house that put up lights, I became giddy, filled with excitement and joy. That one day held the power to bring back memories of my childhood, growing up, and the traditions we continued every year no matter how much our lives had changed. And boy, did they change.

My real dad had passed away when I was three. My sister, Clarissa, was only one. As much as I wished I could remember him, at least I didn’t have to live with the grief of losing a parent. It’s shallow to say, sure, but nothing could be worse than being reminded of someone you loved unconditionally and realizing you’d never get those moments back. You’d never be able to apologize for hurtful words, or say thank you for things you might’ve once taken for granted. My dad got to experience the utter, complete, and honest love from his daughters before passing on. I just always felt bad for my mother. But she had a way of making things better for us.

For as long as I could remember, we had a Christmas tradition. Instead of buying gifts for each other, we’d make them, and then stick them under the tree without names on the tags. It was our own version of Secret Santa. The gifts from Clari—my sister—and me were pretty much garbage, but my mom’s eyes would light up and she’d ooh and ahh over every present she’d open. Mom loved to paint, so we always got canvases with beautiful scenes painted on them. We’d hang them in our rooms along with the previous years’ portraits, and make sure we always left room for new ones.

I was thirteen when my mom remarried; Clari was almost eleven. Wayne was the first guy Mom ever brought home, and we loved him from the very first time meeting him. He made her happy, which made us happy. And even better, he loved our holiday tradition and insisted we kept it. Now looking back on it, the decision probably had more to do with the fact that we didn’t have much money instead of loving the Secret Santa idea, but I didn’t care. It didn’t matter what the reasons were, I only cared about picking which wrapped gift I wanted. After a few years, Wayne had been offered a better paying job, and Mom got the promotion she’d been after for a long time. Money was no longer an issue in our family, but it never changed the tradition of Christmas morning.

The summer after I graduated high school, our family changed again. Wayne’s daughter, Aubrey, came to live with us. I’d never met her before, but had always known about her. The only times I’d ever heard Mom and Wayne fight were after his phone calls to her. I never understood what they were about until she came to live with us. We hit it off from the very beginning, and were so close that we decided to become roommates after she graduated from high school the following summer. But still, even when Aubrey joined our household, our Christmas tradition remained.

I always loved Aubrey’s gifts. She had an amazing talent when it came to woodwork. And after my mom taught her how to paint, her gifts became even more amazing. Clari and I always fought over who’d get Bree’s gifts, and eventually, she just started making two of each. By the second Christmas with Aubrey, our lives changed once more. She had a little girl, McKayla, who brightened our days with her white hair and ocean-colored eyes. Her laugh was infectious, and she had everyone wrapped around her little finger. She was the only person in the family that received store-bought presents at Christmastime. Lots and lots of store-bought presents.