Declan frowns. “I don’t know what gave you that idea. I don’t want to date you, Dina. I don’t need to date you when I know I want to commit to you.”
“Are you saying there is no other woman?”
Declan presses his lips flat. “Please don’t insult me. I’ve never given you a reason to think there’s anyone else. I know this to be true because I’ve only ever loved you.”
This unicorn man is making my brain glitch. “Are you saying you still want to marry me? After… after I told you no and made you wait a year. And are you saying you sent out invites and organized an engagement party without me having to lift a finger? I can just show up and…and…” I touch my forehead with a shaking hand.
“Show up and get a ten-carat diamond ring.”
Ah fuck, he’s playing dirty.
Declan continues, “I gave you a year before I returned to marry you. Today is one year. I thought we should hold a wedding today, but Dr. Mac said it’s better if we get engaged first since you’re not participating in the preparations.”
“Is Dr. Mac your therapist?”
Declan steps closer, eyes narrowed. “You need discipline. So much discipline. No, not a therapist.” Declan grabs my hips as I rise on tiptoes and lock my hands behind his neck.
“She’s Endo Macarley’s wife, who is a doctor. We call her Dr. Mac, formerly Pembroke.”
“I missed you,” I tell him. Tears slide down my cheeks, but for once, they’re happy tears. “I almost ran after you when you left.”
A pause, then Declan smiles, showing both his dimples. He’s happy too.
I love this man. I want this man. He kisses me, and the only thing holding me upright is his hands on my hips. Sadly, he pulls back and checks his watch.
“I’d better get dressed,” I say. “Oh no, I have no dress!”
Declan jerks his head toward the bedroom. “I got you, baby. I got you.”
See? This is my guy. He’s got me. He takes care of me. He loves me. What more could a girl want?
Epilogue
Dina
Five years later
I used to bite my nails. I used to bite them so much that sometimes they bled. It wasn’t until I was in my twenties that I stopped, all because a country singer I idolized had nice nails.
While watching her popular reality show, I grew my nails long and started painting them once a week. But at the rate I’m biting them now as I stare at the screen of the laptop propped on my kitchen counter, I’ll soon have no nails left.
My husband, Selnoa’s most dangerous man, paces from our kitchen to the terrace, where he pauses to look out over the city. Since Declan Crossbow reluctantly took over his father’s empire, which was built in my city, he has created more prosperity than the politicians who are in power ever have.
When asked about it, Declan says it’s because he has no gatekeeper. If he wants the road paved, all he has to do is call a crew, and they do the job. By the time people get what they askedfor from the president or any governing body, they’ve usually left the country altogether and found paved roads elsewhere.
I think Declan has come to love my city. But if you ask him, he’ll never admit it. Some wounds never heal. They’re called scars. We have them to remind us of what we survived. The scar on my thigh reminds me of the explosion in my hair salon that almost killed Connor and me. It throbs when it rains.
“You’re at twenty thousand steps,” his twin says from next to me.
Declan rests his hands on the counter. “Anything yet?”
I shake my head.
Declan curses. “That power outage is suspicious. Who’s on it?”
Connor rolls his eyes. “Nothing suspicious. I already told you I saw the boys in the panic room playing with my setup.”
“Maybe you should discipline them. That was dangerous. For them and for us.”
