She squeezes my hand and lifts her finger between us. “We’re a team, Nate. But from now on, we decide things together. Because, my love, you truly suck at making decisions.”
I laugh. I laugh like I haven’t in weeks. She’s right, as always. She’s the better half of me. The reason my world spins.
She’s my home.
And I’m never letting her go again.
Chapter 30
Nate
Home.
Two days after my discharge, we returned to London. I’ve never felt this happy to be home. The flight back from Germany is quiet, warm—Sebastian flew over to pick us up himself. He told Isabel he couldn’t trust anyone else to bring us back safely. I owe him more than I can say. He told me how wrecked she was when she called him.
But it’s only when the wheels touch down and we step onto familiar ground that I truly understand what it means to come back to life.
The moment we open the front door, an explosion of noise greets us.
My entire team, my colleagues, even Derek are waiting, cheering as we step inside. Streamers hang from the walls, balloons float midair, and the scent of homemade food turns my stomach with warmth and longing. My stomach growls. I glance at Isabel, startled.
She gives me a smug little smile. “You think Cindy and I wouldn’t plan something?”
I shake my head and kiss her forehead. “You two are dangerous together.”
Something inside me settles. For the first time in months, I feel grounded. Safe.
As I move through the crowd, catching up with familiar faces, laughter ringing in my ears, I catch Isabel on the other side of the room. She’s with Cindy and Alice, trying—and failing—to be subtle as they fumble with a package. The moment they notice me watching, they squeal like guilty teenagers and bolt toward Izzy’s office.
Yeah. That’s not suspicious at all.
Hours pass in a blur of laughter, warmth, and too many hugs to count. When the last guests filter out and the house finally begins to quiet, the ache in my back and legs returns. It hurts—but I don’t care.
I have my wife. My people. My life.
Tomorrow—or maybe the day after—I’ll whisk Isabel away somewhere warm and quiet for a proper honeymoon. No more hospitals. No more secrets. Just us.
I’m about to collapse onto the couch when Dad pulls me toward the patio.
“How do you feel, Nathan?” he asks, handing me a cold beer.
I narrow my eyes, cautious. “A little tired, but I’m not complaining. I’m home, and that’s what counts.”
We clink bottles. He takes a long sip before speaking again.
“You made us worry.”
“I know. I didn’t mean to.” My voice drops. I’m not used to seeing him like this—unguarded. Almost soft.
“She opened my eyes, you know.”
I blink. “Who?” But he’s already tilting his head toward the house. “Izzy? About what?”
He lets out a dry chuckle. “She sat me down and told me every way I’d failed you. Diplomatic, sure, but she didn’t pull any punches. Said I pushed you too hard. Tried to make you into me. And she’s right.”
His words hit like a thunderclap. For a second, I just stare at him.
“I’ve never heard you say sorry to anyone before,” I say slowly.
