With his shirt finally open, I traced thecontours of his muscles, feeling them flex slightly at my touch. The contrast between the cool water that lapped at our shins and the warmth of his body sent a shiver through me. Every sensation felt heightened—the sound of our breathing, the gentle waves, the beating of his heart under my palm. In that moment, I knew he was right. It was the beginning ofeverything.
When I reached the top of his waistband, he tore his mouth from mine. Rivulets of water from the sea spray were sprinkled across his skin. His eyes were dilated and bright. “Are you scared?”
“No, Ash. I could never be scared with you.” The words came out softer than I intended, caught between a whisper and a truth. Looking at him—my husband—I felt something inside me crack open. The fact that I got to spend the rest of my life with him felt too good to be true. I couldn’t hold back anymore. Not even a little.
It was time.
Time to tell himeverything.
Tomorrow. As soon as we woke up. But right now…
I reached for his hand and tipped my head toward our beach house.
twenty-two
ASHTON
Be with me always--take any form--drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!
— EMILY BRONTË
Ifought against the sunlight, exhausted. But my eyes fluttered open against my will. A gleam of gold was the first thing I saw. My fingers curled and uncurled. Why was I wearing a gold band?
Then with a jerk, I was awake, the memories of the night before flooding through my head. An involuntary grin stole over my face. Last night was…everythingI ever dreamed it could be.
I patted the blanket to find Tally but my hand came up empty. I rolled over to see the bed vacant next to me. As I sat up, the sheet fell from my chest, the air conditioning beating against me like a glacial blast.
“Tally?” I called. “Mrs. Dupree?” I smiled.
No answer.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and hopped up.Then I grabbed the doorknob to the bathroom, thought better of it, and knocked first. Still nothing. I popped the door open and peeked my head in. There was a message on the mirror in the same pink lipstick she’d worn for the wedding.
Dear husband,
Tis better to have loved and lost…
T—
My stomach dropped at the Tennyson quote. The quote in full was,
I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.
Tennyson had written it after losing a dear friend, when he experienced grief so heavy he thought he’d never recover. It was not the kind of quote you leave your husband the morning after your wedding.
The words looked like they’d been written in haste, but it was her initial that gave me the most pause. The top of the T was messy, like her hand was torn away before she could finish. The sick feeling that had taken up residence in my gut over the past few days was back, in full force. Tally wouldn’t leave a quote like that unless…
Had her rapist shown up in the middle of the night? No, she wouldn’t have had time to write anything if that were the case. And I would’ve heard something. Wouldn’t I?
A pile of mascara-stained tissues lay on the counter. Iwould’ve thought they were from removing her makeup, but there were two inky wet splotches next to the sink like she’d been crying. Fear ripped through me. I shoved it down. I wasn’t a panicking kind of guy. I was the one who talked panicking people down. And it was way too soon to panic.
I hurried to my suitcase where I pulled on a shirt and a pair of board shorts. Then I strode into the living room to grab my phone so I could see her location on Find My Friends. When I reached down, a stab of foreboding hit me in the chest. Because her phone was right next to mine, right where it had been last night.
