She ran into his arms, knocking him against the wall. Her soft weeping filled his ears. He loved the feel of her against him.
“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay.” He sank into the nearest chair, cradling her in his arms. “I didn’t get your letter until four days ago.”
“But you’re here... you’re here.” She roped her arms about his neck as he tightened his embrace, her kiss finding his over and over again.
“I love you, Chloe. I didn’t think I could love anyone again, but I do, heaven help me, I do.” He kissed her again, hungry, giving, pleasing.
She sniffed away her tears between kisses. “I love you, Jesse. Heaven help me, I do.” She tipped her head to the screen. “The ending was your idea?”
“Before I left the guesthouse, your dad invited me into his office to talk about the consequences of walking off a set. I suggested an easy solution to let Esther live. I was ranting. Didn’t think he really heard me. Then I went to Boston. Four months passed. Then four days ago Jeremiah sent me a link. At the same time, the admin at DiamondBros found your letter. A temp had stashed it away—”
She kissed him again, her touch powerful, her breath warm, her hands embracing him.
“I can’t believe you’re here.”
“I can’t believe it took me so long to get here. With you.”
“I was okay with dying, you know.” Her kisses filled his shallow, dry well. “Did you see my dagger move?”
“Yes, and now I’m a little scared.”
She laughed, bold and free. Love broke chains. Unlocked doors. Healed wounds.
“I have a lot to tell you,” he said. “I-I’ve met someone.”
She reared back, eyes narrowed. “Hmm, this feels like a bait and switch. Who did you meet?”
“Same Man you met at church.”
“Smitty?”
“No, Chloe—”
“Jesus.” She brushed her hand over his shirt. “How’d you meet Him?”
“The Brants, of all people. Loxley’s parents. Now I know I’m forgiven.”
She pressed her cheek to his chest. “I can hear Him in there. Tossing out some old furniture. Wait, He’s saying something...” She held up her finger, pretending to listen. “He’s asking if He can hang something on the wall.”
Jesse laughed. “What?”
“A picture. Yes, I see a picture. It says, ‘Home Sweet Home.’”
“Perfect.”
“And He’s sitting in your chair. Says He’s got the con.”
Jesse scooped her closer, his kiss wild and abandoned, possessing her until he lost the edges of his being and existed in a space without borders.
When he pulled away, she settled back against his chest, pretending to listen.
“Wait, He’s hanging another picture, Jesse. He’s still moving in.”
“A picture of me and you?”
“No, it’s a letter...” She sat up, hands pressed on his chest, her expression full of wonder. “The one Oliver gave to me.”
“Oliver?”
