“I love you, too,” I sob. He doesn’t let go. In one fluid motion, he sweeps me off my feet, lifting me into his arms. I wrap my legs around his waist, burying my face in the crook of his neck, clinging to him as the rain continues to pour.
“I’ve got you,” he promises, turning back toward the house. “I’ve got you and I am never letting you go again.”
He carries me up the driveway, his steps steady despite the mud. I close my eyes, listening to the beat of his heart against his chest, louder than the thunder. The storm is still raging, but for the first time all night, I am not afraid. I am coming home.
Epilogue: One Year Later
Shane
Iadjust my tie in the reflection of the hallway mirror.
It’s the same mirror as last year. The same expensive silk tie. The house still smells like lilies and imported pastries. But this time, the knot at my throat doesn’t feel like a choking hazard.
I step out onto the terrace. The air is crisp, carrying the scent of early spring, but I don’t care about the weather. I scan the crowd, ignoring my cousins and business associates, looking for the only person who matters.
I find her near the railing.
Dove.
She is laughing at something Cordia said, her head thrown back, the sunlight catching the gold in her brown hair. She’s wearing yellow today—bright, unapologetic yellow. She looks like sunlight. She looks like everything I almost threw away.
For a moment, I just watch her. I let the possessive pride roll over me. Last year, I stood in this spot and told myself I wasn’tallowed to touch her. Today, the ring in my pocket burns against my thigh.
I’m done waiting.
I push through the crowd. I don’t weave politely; I cut a straight path. The second I reach her, I don’t ask for permission. I step into her space, sliding my arm around her waist, pulling her flush against my side.
Dove looks up, her hazel eyes lighting up with a smile that hits me in the chest.
“Hi,” she says, leaning into me.
“Hi.” I press a kiss to her temple, ignoring my sister’s gagging noise. “You look beautiful.”
“You look decent,” Cordia quips, sipping her mimosa. “For a guy who’s been staring at his girlfriend across the lawn for ten minutes like a stalker.”
“I wasn’t staring,” I lie smoothly. “I was supervising.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?” Cordia grins. “Come on. Mother is threatening to start without us.”
We move to the table. It’s the same mahogany table, set with the same crystal, but the atmosphere is unrecognizable. There is no tension. There is no Emily.
I pull Dove’s chair out for her. As she sits, I slide my hand down her arm, my thumb grazing the soft skin of her inner wrist. It’s a grounding touch. A reminder.I’m here. You’re here. We made it.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
I take the seat beside her. Throughout the meal, my focus remains entirely on her. I fill her water glass before it’s empty. When a waiter gets too close with a precarious tray of champagne, my hand shoots out, catching the edge of the tray before it can tip toward Dove’s dress.
The waiter freezes, terrified. “S-sorry, Mr. Archer.”
“Watch your spacing,” I say calmly, guiding the tray away.
Dove doesn’t even notice. She’s too busy laughing at something my father is saying.
“You’re hovering,” Cordia whispers, leaning across the table. “You’ve got that ‘security detail’ look in your eye.”
I pick up my fork, unbothered. “I’m protecting the woman I love.” No one will ever hurt her again. Especially not me.
Cordia rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. She knows. It’s not about control anymore. It’s about cherishing.
