“I want it, Mac. I want you, and her,” she says, nodding towards a running Scout. “And this. And the dream. Not just any dream, but our dream.”
“Then let me take you inside. Because I have a lot to show you. I’ve been so busy in my delusional world since we last saw each other.”
Her hands latch on to my arm and she leans her head into my shoulder as we walk up towards the house.
“But we’ll have to order out for dinner. There’s no food here.”
“Nothing?” she asks. “You haven’t been living here?”
“Without you?” I scoff. “Never.”
“Well, I can’t wait to grocery-shop with you, Maclean Callister,” Ellie says with a sigh.
“I take that back,” I say. “I do have one edible thing in the house. But we won’t be using it for toast tonight.”
Ellie leans into my chest and her laugh comes out as a mist of air from her mouth. I lean down and kiss her lips. So warm. So familiar. So ready.
“Butter will never be the same. And neither will the kitchen table. Because I’m going to bend you over it the moment we get inside.”
Yeah.
This is perfect.
Every bit of this is perfect.
But only because Ellie is my Mrs. Perfect.