It’s a homecoming so profound it shatters the last of my fears into dust.
Every dark corner of my past, every whisper of not being enough, is incinerated in the blazing light of this one, undeniable truth.
I am not a mistake.
I am not a curse.
I am his.
And he is completely and utterly…
Mine.
A comfortable, contented silence settles over us.I’m nestled against his side on the sofa, his arm a heavy, warm weight around me.A low rumble starts in his chest, growing into a chuckle.I lift my head to look at him.His eyes are full of a happy light.
He turns to me, his voice laced with amusement.“So how about some pasta?”
I stare at him for a second before a deep laugh bursts from my very soul.“Yes, please!”I giggle, feeling happier and lighter than I have in my entire life.“I’m starving.”
“But for the love of God, whatever you do, do not wear that apron,” he pleads, making us both laugh out loud.
FIFTY
THE FEAR THAT paralyzed me in his driveway has been silenced and soothed.Dinner has left me feeling utterly cherished and sated.A blissful, wine-and-passion-induced lethargy has settled deep in my bones, a contentment I’ve never known.
Hand in hand, we move through the quiet house and ascend the staircase.He stops at the open door to the guest room and turns me to face him, his hands sliding to my shoulders.The dim hallway light catches the deep contentment radiating from his eyes.
“Are you happy you came over?”His question is a low murmur, his thumbs gently stroking my collarbones.
A wide, bright smile spreads across my face, my hands rising to his waist.“I was terrified,” I confess a truth he already knows.“But now…”
“Now?”
“Now I’m very happy I came.”My gaze meets his, full of a new, dawning certainty.
His smile widens, reaching his eyes, making them shine with that radiant light I adore.He cups my face, his lips meeting mine in a sweet kiss that speaks of reverence.Of abiding care.When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against mine.
His warm breath ghosts across my lips as he whispers, “I’ll be right across the hall if you need anything.”
I can only nod, completely overwhelmed by this perfect night.
“Good night, love,” he murmurs, his lips pressing one final, lingering kiss to my forehead.
“Good night, Matt,” I whisper back.
He hesitates, reluctant to leave, but then he releases me and turns toward his bedroom.I watch him go, my heart so full and light it feels like it could float right out of my chest.
I push the guest room door wider and step inside.Flicking on the bedside table lamp casts the place in a warm glow.I turn down the duvet, uncovering crisp, inviting sheets.My gaze wanders around this haven, offered to me with no expectations.
No expectations.
The words echo.A stark contrast to the life I knew with James, where every gift, every comfort, came with invisible strings.Strings that tightened into a net I didn’t see until it was too late.For a terrifying second, the image of James’s self-satisfied smirk flashes in my mind.The old, familiar shame of mistaking support for love threatens to rise.A bitter tide against the sweet shores of the evening.
I take a deep, steadying breath, my hand resting on the smooth wood of the dresser.
This is not James,I tell myself, the words a fierce, silent command.This is Matthew.
Matthew, who looked at James with icy contempt.
