She blinks. “I’m sorry?”
I huff out a quiet laugh. “When I was young, maybe six or seven, I watched one of those shows on TV. The ones about animals. We were moving around a lot back then . . . now I know why, but at the time, I was confused and sad, and well, I saw this one episode.” I stop for a second, and even years later, I can see it clearly in my mind. “This episode was about penguins. Penguins pick a rock. One rock. They search for it. They bring it to their mate.” My gaze lifts to hers. “It’s how they say ‘this is it.’”
Her breath hitches in her chest.
“They keep doing it,” I continue, voice lower now. “Every year. Same mate. New rock. Even when it’s hard. Even whenthey lose each other for a while. At the time when I saw it, I knew I wanted that . . . and so, when I met you . . . “
Her eyes shine, and then tears fall.
She doesn’t wipe them. She just stands there. Listening. Crying. Seeing what was right in front of her the whole time. My undying love.
“I didn’t have words,” I admit. “Back then . . . and not when I found you again, so I left evidence.”
Her lips tremble with a smile.
“It’s always been you. Since the first moment I saw you. And collected my first rock, and then well, I did it when I didn’t know how to ask you to stay.”
Her gaze locks onto mine. “And now?”
I swallow. “Now I’m asking,” I say quietly. “Stay.”
She leans in, deliberate. Her mouth meets mine, gentle at first, but then my hands slide around her waist, and the kiss deepens.
“You’re terrifying,” she whispers, voice muffled against me.
I let my mouth curve, kissing her hair. “Yet.”
“Yet,” she echoes, and her arms tighten around me like she’s anchoring herself.
For the first time in a long time, the violence inside me is quiet.
“Do you ever regret meeting me?”
The question lands clean and deep, like she’s been carrying it for a decade.
I don’t hesitate.
“Not for a second.”
Her breath stutters.
“Even when it ruined me,” I confess. “Even when it nearly killed me. Even when I thought you chose someone else and left me bleeding in hell.”
Her eyes glisten, but she doesn’t look away.
“Because in the end, I got you.”
I reach for her, hand sliding into her hair. She leans into my touch immediately, and I press my forehead to hers, breathing her in.
“You always had me.” She laughs.
Her palm settles over my chest, feeling the beat.
I close my eyes.
Finally secure that she will never leave me again.
63
