And she had never felt safer in her life.
Much later, tangled together in sheets and candlelight, Anthea traced idle patterns on Gregory's chest.
"What are you thinking?" he asked, his voice drowsy and content.
"That I am happy," Anthea said simply. "That I did not think I could be this happy. That I am grateful you refused to let me hide."
Gregory caught her hand and brought it to his lips. "I am grateful you were brave enough to stop hiding."
"We really are going to do this?" Anthea asked. "Build a real marriage? Face everything together?"
"Yes," Gregory said. "We really are."
"Even when I am impossible?"
"Especially when you are impossible," Gregory said, echoing words he had spoken before. "That is when I love you most."
Anthea smiled and settled against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges. New responsibilities. The thousand small difficulties of learning to truly share a life with someone.
But tonight—tonight was perfect.
And for the first time in three years, Anthea let herself believe that perfect moments could become a perfect life.
If she was brave enough to keep choosing love.
And she was.
She finally, finally was.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Anthea woke to sunlight streaming through the windows and Gregory's arm draped across her waist.
For a moment—one perfect, blissful moment—she simply lay there, feeling his steady breathing against her back, the warmth of his body pressed against hers, the absolute rightness of being exactly where she was.
She was married. Truly married. To a man she loved, who loved her back.
Yesterday had been perfect. Veronica's wedding, Gregory's speech, their confession in the garden, and then?—
Heat flooded her cheeks at the memory. She turned carefully in Gregory's embrace to find him already awake, watching her with an expression so tender it made her chest ache.
"Good morning, wife," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
"Good morning, husband," Anthea replied, still getting used to the way the word felt in her mouth. How it meant something different now than it had even yesterday.
"How are you feeling?" Gregory asked, and there was genuine concern beneath the question.
"Happy," Anthea said honestly. "Sore. But mostly happy."
Gregory's smile was soft and just slightly smug. "I can work with mostly happy."
"You are insufferable," Anthea informed him, but she was smiling.
"Yes," Gregory agreed easily. "But I am your insufferable now. You said so yourself."
He kissed her properly this time, slow and deep and thoroughly distracting. Anthea melted into it, her hands coming up to tangle in his hair, her body already responding to his touch with an eagerness that should probably embarrass her but did not.
