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Six months later...
I lean back in an old lawn chair on my parents’ patio, sip my tea, and watch my father and Justin, both bundled up against the cold, walk a circular path in the back garden. They’re no doubt embroiled in an animated conversation on some obscure issue, the kind of conversation they both relish.
Something moves in my chest as my gaze lingers on Justin. I’m dizzy with love for this man. I’m even more dizzy over the fact thathe loves me. Completely and utterly. Because that’s what he tells me every day.
I have to blink hard sometimes to remind myself this is not someone else’s dream I’ve mistakenly slipped into.
My greatest pleasure has come from watching Justin fit so easily into my family. Admittedly, the first month was rough. The moment Justin approached my father about seriously dating me, my dad grilled him on his career plans, his values, and his intentions regarding me.
Next came a series of highly competitive games nights. I know my dad was using these sessions to test Justin’s critical thinking and competitive streak. “I’m not having my daughter marry a man with no drive,” I overheard him mutter to my mom. “I also want to see how he reacts when he loses. Which he will.”
After grudgingly approving Justin’s attitude and conduct in the games nights (with Mom and I agreeing it was Dad who really needed to work on losing more graciously), my all-thumbs fatherthen hauled out a broken toaster that had been languishing for years in the garage and presented it to a dubious Justin to fix.
After Justin almost set the house on fire trying to repair it, my father declared, “Oh, well, you can’t have everything.” I have a sneaking suspicion he was secretly pleased Justin matched his level of ineptness in the DIY department.
Justin looks up from his conversation with my dad and smiles at me. A smile that sends a jolt of pleasure up my spine and unfurls a soft warmth inside my chest. I can barely remember the angry, hostile man I first met, a man who knew only to rage at the world, who didn’t care about the consequences of his actions, and couldn’t be bothered to look too far into the future.
Returning his smile, I swallow past the thickness in my throat and blow a kiss to the man who will be my husband in a year. Although, if he has his way, we’ll be married a lot sooner than that. His reasoning? He wants me to make him anhonest man.
My mind replays the night when I left Justin outside SolomiChem, the night I came apart thinking it would be the last time I would ever see him. To my surprise, he showed up at my house two hours later, begging to speak with me. I met him outside, away from the curious eyes and ears of my family. The evening air was crisp and fresh from the storm that had blown over. Justin stood tall and straight in the amber slant of the streetlight, a long way from the bowed figure in my rearview mirror earlier.
“What do you want, Justin?” I asked resignedly, my throat still raw from crying.
“You,” he answered, his eyes burning into mine. “Only you.”
It took me a second to find my voice. “I told you I don’t do casual. And to be honest, I’m really not in the mood—”
He cut me off. “I’m not taking about a casual hookup. Tonight has made me realize that the only person I want sharing my life isstanding right in front of me. I want you, Heather Walker. All of you. Mind, body, and heart.”
My head jerked back in shock. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” I stammered.
“I know exactly what I’m saying.”
“You’re caught up in the emotions of the night.”
“No, sweetheart,” he corrected tenderly, the endearment pulling on my heart. “My eyes have been opened because of the emotions of this night.”
I couldn’t stop shaking my head. “You’ll regret this in the morning.”
“The only thing I’ll regret is not telling you how I feel,” he said steadily. “I’m falling in love with you.” A note of wonder underscored his words, as though he was still coming to grips with it himself. “I never thought I’d say that to anyone, but I’m saying it to you.”
I was still frozen with shock on the sidewalk outside my house, trying to absorb his emotional declaration, my thoughts all over the place.
“Okay, you’re killing me here,” Justin said finally. For the first time, I caught a hint of vulnerability in his expression. “I’m dying to take you in my arms and kiss the heck out of you, but it would help if I knew you felt the same way about me.”
Did I feel the same way about him? Of course I did. Somehow, this man had slotted himself right into my heart. Like he always belonged there. Like my heart couldn’t imagine anyone else taking up residence in its chambers.
“Kiss me,” I managed to say at last, “and I’ll show you exactly how I feel about you.”
He wasted no time sweeping me into his arms and crushing his lips to mine. I kissed him. Deeply. Passionately. Letting him know, in no uncertain terms, that I’d fallen just as hard as he had.
When we finally came up for air, I murmured against his lips, “I’m crazy about you too.”
Such a dark, dark day, and then this happened. One bright, beautiful spark of light.
Justin rested his forehead against mine. “Will you come with me? Please. I want to show you something.”
