She nods, signing, “Don’t forget to come back.”
“Like that could ever happen.” I sign back.
“What are you guys…planning?” she signs as Erin and Shadow discuss the pros and cons of having a cat, Shadow running a palm down his face as Erin gestures, counting her arguments on her long, black-painted fingers. Rose’s mouth ticks and I notice a slight trembling of her lower lip. My thumb runs smoothly over it.
“Nothing to write home about, sweetheart. Just a couple of beers.”
“No…strippers?” she signs the word with each letter, worry hanging like a cloud above her.
“Hey,” she lifts her chin to meet my gaze, “none of that, Angel. I don’t do that sort of stuff, you know that.”
“But…in movies…bachelor nights, they do all sorts of things and?—”
“Only this isn’t a movie, and it’s us. I got everything I need at home waiting for me. It’ll just be a couple of drinks, I promise. Is that why you were worried when they arrived?” She nods, blushing, and I realize I failed her by not seeing it sooner. Rose only entered our world this year. There’s lots still scaring her shitless, especially things she thinks could take me away from her. “You never have to worry about those things, Angel. Never. I love you. Next time you worry like that, just tell me. You’re all I think about, Rose, when I’m with you and when I’m not. There’s no room and no want for anything else.”
“Okay,” she mouths, and I steal her a quick kiss ’cause we’ve got company.
“Shadow?” I arch a brow.
“Yep, ready,” he nods, leaving the stool. “Have fun, guys, but not too much fun.” He winks at Erin, and she half-whispers, half-yells, “We’re gonna get a cat!” Rose laughs and I kiss her one more time before leaving them for the rest of the day.
Chapter 10
Rose
I shift in the bed,drawn gently out of sleep by a thin ray of sunlight sneaking through a gap in the curtains. For a second, I forget what day it is.
Today is the day.
The butterflies in my belly wake up all at once. Stretching their wings and flying in every possible direction. Nerves, anticipation, joy, fear, excitement, all swirling together until I can’t tell them apart. Strong arms are wrapped around me from behind, curled like vines around my waist. Vox’s chest is pressed against my back, his breath slow and deep against my shoulder. I bring his forearm closer and kiss the skin there, right where the muscle tightens beneath my lips. He makes a sound, half groan, half hum, low and sleepy. I smile to myself and kiss him again, this time letting my teeth scrape lightly against his skin. His rough chuckle vibrates through my spine.
“Is this how you want to start our special day, sweetheart?” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep, lips brushing the shell of my ear. Goosebumps race over my skin. I turn in his hold to face himand trail kisses from his jaw to his mouth. He lets out a quiet roar, and in the next second, his hand is in my hair, and my body is beneath his. We spend the next hour breathing each other in, saying goodbye to our unmarried selves in the best, most private way possible.
Later, my head rests on his chest, our bodies tangled in the sheets. My breathing is slow again, but my heart is still racing for a different reason. He looks down at me, his thumb tracing lazy circles on my shoulder.
“Like what you see?” he says.
I smile and sign back, “Very much.” His eyes travel over my face, lingering on my mouth. He lifts his hand and runs his thumb across my lower lip.
“These lips…” he mutters quietly. “Don’t move,” he commands. His arms unfold from around me, and I watch him leave the room, barefoot and bare-backed, disappearing through the doorway. He returns a few minutes later with a tray balanced in his hands. The smell reaches me before he does. Toast and strawberries. Vox sets the tray across my thighs, and I sit up, clutching the sheet to my chest. There’s sliced bread, a jar of strawberry jam, a little pot of yogurt, and fresh fruit cut into strange shapes. Some are cubes, some are hearts, some look like he tried to make stars, and I giggle at his lovely attempt. There is even a tiny flower from the garden placed carefully in the corner of the tray. I mouth athank you, earning me a devilish stare.
“Eat,” he says. “I’m gonna go get dressed downstairs with Shadow. I’ll send Erin in so you two can get ready.” My heart squeezes. I know this was my idea. The wholegetting ready separately and see you at the ceremonything. I wanted to do it properly, like people do here. But now that the moment is here, the idea of him leaving feels wrong. I reach for his wrist and sign, “Wait.”
He sits back down on the edge of the bed, his hand coming to rest over mine. “It’s eight thirty, love. We’re getting married at eleven.” His voice stays calm. “You’ve got plenty of time to get ready. Everything’s taken care of. The car will be here at ten thirty to pick you up. I’ll already be at City Hall. You can call me any time, alright?” He leans in, one knee sinking into the mattress, and kisses me slowly, like he is trying to imprint this moment onto both of us. My chest tightens and I regret insisting we spend the last few hours before the ceremony apart. The panic sneaks up quickly, whispering all the what-ifs in my ear. I sign again, my hands moving fast.
“What if you don’t like the dress? What if there’s traffic and I’m late? What if something happens to the car and I can’t come and you’re waiting and?—”
His hand comes up to my cheek. “Angel, don’t.” His eyes lock on mine, grounding me. “The dress will be perfect no matter what. And if you’re late, I’ll wait.” He pauses, and his gaze softens in that way that always makes my throat constrict. “I’ve waited twenty-nine years to find you. I can wait a bit longer.”
My fingers tremble a little, but I nod. “Okay,” I sign.
“Hey,” he says quietly. I lift my eyes to meet his. His hand slides to the side of my neck, fingers resting lightly over old scars, possessive in the softest way. “You’re good, I’m good. You’re hurting, I’m hurting. I will love you until I am nothing but bones and dust, and even after that. You get that, angel?” He points at his chest. “The only way to make it stop is by shooting me right here.” Love and worship battle in my gaze as I take in his confession. “Damn it, angel,” he mutters, suddenly restless. “When you look at me like that, it makes me want to do things to you that—” He stops, leaning his forehead against mine, his hand drifting from my neck to my chin, cradling my face. “We get married,” he murmurs, his mouth brushing mine with each word, “and then we come straight back home. ‘CauseI’ve got plans for my bride.” His voice wraps around me like electricity. I inhale his scent, his air, all of it. I lean forward and give him a small, innocent kiss. He welcomes it, returning it with tenderness, then pulls back with a faint wince, like breaking contact physically hurts.
“What I’d give to stay with you right now,” he sighs.
I smile and sign, “You have me for eternity. Isn’t it enough?”
His throat bobs. A small, humourless laugh escapes him. “That’s the thing, I’ll never get enough time with you.” My eyes sting again.
