“We’re not losing anything now,” I said firmly, his eyes catching mine. “This time we choose our path, and it always leads us back together.”
He let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh, almost like relief. Then, in that way he had, Jonah broke the heavinessby selecting another grape and holding it out of my reach, his smirk firmly in place.
I rolled my eyes but leaned forward anyway, biting it straight from his fingers, letting my lips brush deliberately against his skin. “Careful,” I teased. “Keep feeding me like this and you’ll never get me out of this bath.”
“Good,” he said, voice coarse again. “I’m not done looking at you.”
“All you’re missing is a tiny butler costume.”
“I’d rather be naked.”
“I wouldn’t complain.” I smirked, sinking back down into the water, almost tempted to pull him in with me.
For a long moment, the playful edge faded into something heavier, his eyes dark and steady on me. Then, in true Jonah fashion, he broke it with a goofy grin and a cracker held before me.
“You’re insufferable,” I muttered, stretching for it. When he didn’t bring it to my mouth like he had the others, my brows pushed together, looking up at him for answers.
“You want it?” His voice was low, teasing. “Then come get it.”
I held firm for a moment, almost tempted to stay in the hot water, remain bratty, but the alternative was much better. I pushed up, holding his heated gaze, and caught the food between my teeth, deliberately brushing his fingers.
His laugh echoed through the bathroom. It faded as I leaned forward and kissed the palm of his hand, tasting the salt from the cracker.
“I love you,” I whispered against his hand, my lips trailing up his arm.
This time, he didn’t offer food. His mouth found mine instead, slow and sure, tasting of wine and Christmas and the kind of promise that made me forget the years we’d lost.
“I love you too,” he murmured, his breath hot against my skin. It had always been him. It would always be him. And now, with our lives entwined, there was no going back.
We were forever.
epilogue
Mirror Ball - Taylor Swift
It rained the morning of our wedding. The sky cracking open with thunderstorms rolling over the surrounding heather-covered hills, water pounding at the delicate glass of Rose Hall.
We’d been staying up in Scotland more and more, London becoming more of a fly-through and the town house there used mostly by Scottie and Nico. The hills and unpredictable weather called to Jonah and me, the place where we first fell in love.
What better place to say, “I do”?
I slipped into my wedding dress, a vintage cream silk I’d found in Paris, as soon as I woke up. I twirled around the room like a girl at her first céilidh, Jonah laughing from the bed before joining me, waltzing in his PJs.
Hours later, the quiet of late morning settled in, and the house held me in its hush.
My bouquet sat on the sideboard, peonies and bluebells picked yesterday from the edge of the garden. I traced the vintage lace trim of my sleeves, worn smooth with age, andlistened to the creak of the floorboards beneath my heels, to the wind rattling the old house.
Jonah appeared in the doorway to the library, leaning against it as he watched me, a cup of perfectly made tea in hand. He looked impossibly handsome in a dusty brown tweed suit, the faintest tartan running through the fabric, his white shirt undone at the collar.
“It will clear by midday,” I promised, seeing a crinkle of doubt in his eyes. “It always does.”
We’d been together five years, five years of trailing him across continents to always return home. London first, then to Scotland – to the family house we’d made our own, complete with a tennis court for him and Scottie.
Jonah sat down beside me on the bench, his familiar cedar scent pulling me in. He rested his head on my shoulder, following my gaze across the landscape – bare but beautiful. Mountains carved by glaciers millions of years ago. Peat banks cut for a hundred winters, warming homes and families. Heather stretched across the hills, its lilac tones muted beneath the grey sky.
He murmured, “You always say that…and somehow, I always believe you.” He paused, pressing his lips to the bare skin of my shoulder before covering the skin with my tartan blanket. “Even if it doesn’t clear”—he glanced at the rain-drenched glass, then back at me—“I’d still marry you in this storm. A hundred times over.”
“Good.” I grinned. “You’re not getting rid of me again.”
