On his life. “I promise.”
She shifted, rolling over in his arms and propping herself up on one elbow.
She slid her arms around his neck. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“For what?”
“For everything. For being you.” She snuggled closer. “For making me realize that I couldn’t live my life based on a list of pros and cons. That I needed to live it for myself.” She tilted her head back, brushed her lips over his. “With you,” she whispered.
“I love you,” he said, his heart swelling as he leaned in to press his mouth to hers.
She was really his—not Harold’s—Tony’s. She loved him, and she wanted to be with him. With a sigh, he pulled her closer, his fingers stroking her back. Somehow, despite everything, in the end, he really had managed to rescue the woman he loved.
And that, he thought, was a fantasy come true.
