When he reached my side, I slipped my hands around his waist and rested my head on his chest. “For locking you out. Neglecting you. Acting like you didn’t count, like you didn’t exist.”
“Hey.” He held me away from him. “If you’d done this sooner, then I would’ve believed you either felt nothing for him or you were pretending you’d stopped grieving.” He palmed my cheeks. “I’m not going anywhere and for however long you need, I’ll wait. Zayne wasn’t just some random hookup or a guy you dated for a month. He saved you, gave you life, I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, sweetheart. You can take as much time as you need.”
“How do you always know what to say?”
He shrugged. “When you truly love someone, words and emotions come naturally, without thought, without direction, without pretense. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Ash even if that means keeping a part of Zayne with us, I don’t care. Fuck, the man weaved his way into my life too and I guess I’m standing here today because of him. He brought you to me the day he saved you and then he gave you to me fully when he left. He will forever be part of our lives.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Ashrika Morrone Shaw.”
I blinked. “You’re asking me to marry you?”
“Yes. When you’re ready.”
Realization dawned. “You’re asking me to keep Zayne’s name as well?”
“Yes. When you’re ready,” he repeated before he lowered his head and captured my lips in a slow, tantalizing kiss, meant to coax and calm. “For now, are you ready to do this?” he asked when he pulled back.
I glanced around. We stood in the apartment I’d shared with Zayne. Trent brought me there to show me something. “I still don’t understand why we’re here.” I sat down at the breakfast nook.
Trent stepped away from me and picked up the Van Gogh‘The Starry Night’painting he’d retrieved from Zayne’s bedroom since I refused to go in there. “He made me promise that you got this painting before you sold the apartment.”
Still frowning, I stared at the artwork. It’d been a month since I’d come back home. A month and one week since Zayne’s funeral. A month and two weeks since he took a bullet meant for me. He’d left me. My tears had long since dried up, but that didn’t mean my heart couldn’t cry. It did.
I shifted my gaze to the man holding the painting. The other man in my life. The one who’d stayed. My pillar of strength. The man who’d held and consoled me every day that I’d shared tears for another love. I smiled at him. My savior, my liberator, and more importantly. My first and only true love.
Can a woman love two men at the same time? Yes. Without a doubt. I did. And they loved me back, loved me hard, and loved me unconditionally. Yes. A woman can love two men at the same time. I did. I loved Zayne Morrone but I loved Trent Shaw more. And he’d not only just asked me to marry him but to keep Zayne’s name. What man did that? I guess the one that loved you just as hard.
“Sweetheart?” the husky call gently coaxed my attention.
Standing, I neared him and stared at the painting. “I don’t understand why this was important.”
Trent held up the artwork. He checked the front then examined the back. “Get me a knife, Ash.”
I retrieved a small knife from the kitchen drawer and handed it to him. He laid the painting face down on the dining table and with gentle manipulation, lifted the canvas cover at the back. When he pulled it back, a note was stuck inside the edge of the frame. Trent pried it free, gave it a quick scan, and held it out.
“It’s for you.”
Frowning, I took the note and read it.
Hey, baby.
If you’re reading this, chances are I’m dead or running behind a woman far less beautiful than you. Either way, I’m sorry I left you before I had a chance to give you what you truly desired. Your past. While I can’t promise to give you everything, I hope the little I have managed to uncover will give you some peace. Remember what I said, though. ‘It’s time to write a new story. You might enjoy it.’ And I’m sure Trent will give that to you. He’s gold where I was just silver.
If after reading this, you’re still sitting on the fence of whether you want to know about your past or not—go back to that place where we saw the little girl sitting on the fence. She might have a story to tell.
I love you, angel—always have and always will—wherever I am.
Zayne
I flipped the page over as though it had more and looked up at Trent. “Can you take me?”
He nodded and lifted the painting. “What do you want to do with this?”
“Put it back in his room for—” I broke off as my gaze fell to the bottom right of the artwork. I frowned.
“What’s wrong?”
