And something else takes its place.
Something that makes my breath catch.
He reaches for me, his hands framing my face.
He tilts my chin up, and his voice drops to something low and velvety, something that undoes me.
“I love you, Daisy.”
My breath catches.
His eyes are unguarded—wide open in a way I’ve never seen before.
“I love you,” he repeats, “And if you’ll have me—if you’ll forgive me—I swear to you, I will spendeverysingle day making sure youneverfeel like you’re not enough again.”
A lump the size of the actual wedding carriage rises in my throat.
I stare at him, my brain flatlining, my emotions everywhere.
“Really?” I whisper.
“Really,” he says, his voice firm.
“You think we can work?”
“I know we can work.” His gaze doesn’t waver. “I don’t work without you. There’s no other option.”
I swallow hard.
“You asked me once,” he says, “if I could see you as the mother of my children.”
His thumbs brush against my cheeks, and despite the cold water dripping everywhere, his touch is warm.
“Daisy,” he continues, steadier still. “I hadeverythinggrowing up—the best schools, the best opportunities, every privilege a person could ask for. But the things I needed most—the things that actually matter—are kindness, compassion, love. You can teach them that. You can teach them the core traits of survival and resilience.”
I inhale sharply, feeling like my chest might actually burst.
“Okay, you probably can’t teach them the difference between governmental parties,” he adds with that little smirk that makes me want to kiss him and smack him at the same time. “But I can handle that bit, if they’re interested. Though I suspect they’ll find you far more captivating—this whirlwind who lights up every room—while seeing their father as the boring old sod who won’t shut up about parliamentary procedure.”
There is no sarcasm in his voice.
No barrier between us.
JustEdward.
The Edward wholovesme
“I know it might take time for you to trust me,” he goes on, voice softening, “and to adjust to the multitude of compromises a relationship with me presents. But we can do it, I know—”
He’s rambling now.
“Oh, shut it,” I cut in, grinning like an idiot. “I love you too.”
Happiness bubbles up, fizzy and wild, rushing through me.
“I’ve loved you for months,” I blurt, “maybe since that first night I hid in your tent wardrobe and saw you—”
“Hold up—hidin my tent?” His brows shoot up, head tilting. “What?”
