Page 128 of Never the Same

For the first time in weeks, my chest became light.

She was here. She chose me. Us. And I’d never be letting go.

I guess people really could change and happily-ever-afters existed even for people like me after all.

“Now.” I cleared my throat, and she lowered her eyes between us down to my cock that’d yet to behave. “Back to the whole marrying thing . . .”

She slid her tongue along the seam of her mouth. “How soon is too soon? We talking years or months? Four kids to have and all, so.”

“Fuck years,” I choked out. “Maybe months.” I kissed her. “But if you really want to make a guy happy, how about weeks?”

Chapter Fifty

Hollis

Five and a half weeks later

I gripped the ivory-draped railing of the terrace Jason had rented for us. Below, the French manor spilled into the water’s edge, a painting come to life. Gas lanterns flickered along the curved stone path, their glow brushing the jasmine climbing the walls.

Beneath strings of tiny lights swaying in the coastal wind, the world fell away to just the water and the weight of my husband’s hands as they framed my waist. He pressed his chest to my back, steady and warm, anchoring me.

Less than an hour ago we’d married at the church where Trevor worked security, officially becoming one like his tattoo promised. Only our closest family and friends were in attendance. Although I’d met his parents in Houston two weeks ago, he’d decided not to invite them, and there was no way I could handle having Lyra at my side tonight. At some point, we’d have a bigger reception to celebrate, but this moment was for us.

“Peaceful here,” he murmured, his voice sending anticipation shivering up my spine. “You could’ve picked anywhere in the world for our honeymoon, but you wanted to stay local. Why?”

“Mm. Easy. It’s the home I’ve always wanted. Why go anywhere else?” I angled my head back to meet his eyes. “Plus, no way was I waiting a whole plane flight to”—I playfully lifted my brows twice—“you know.”

He smiled against my mouth, breathing, “My wife,” and I swallowed the words.

“Husband,” I returned, kissing him before facing forward, leaning into him. “You know, you could’ve married me on my birthday last month. One date to remember both.”

“I would never take the easy way out like that.” His grin curved against my skin, and his laugh slipped down my neck.

“You thought about it, though.”

“Only because it meant we’d be married sooner.” He swept my braid over my shoulder and lowered his mouth to my ear. “But I’ll never forget either date. You have my word.”

I heard the promise beneath the tease, the shadow of his father’s condition threading through it. Maybe one day Tristan or Diana would find a cure and we could add another miracle to our list.

We’d waited forever to be together, but the wait would be more than worth it. That thought sparked another, and I slid my hands into his pockets, searching.

“Not what I was hoping you’d reach for,” he said darkly, catching my wrist as I tugged his phone free.

Holding it between us, I smiled. “Time to change your reset point.”

He took the phone and placed it on the small table. “After,” he said, voice low. “I plan to make love to you first.”

I stepped back against the railing to better look at my husband. The tuxedo fit him like a second skin, broad shoulders tapering into a frame that looked both lethal and devastatingly refined. A man who could move mountains, and tonight, he’d be moving mine.

His eyes drifted over my dress—simple silk, elegant and timeless, slipping against my skin with every movement and light enough to sway in the breeze.

He closed the space between us and went for my braid, tugging loose the pins until the woven strands unraveled into waves. His fingers combed through until my hair spilled free over my shoulders. He framed my face with both hands, tilting my head just enough to kiss me like we owned the moment.

When his mouth broke from mine, his eyes were still closed, lashes dark against his skin. “I love you.” The words settled over me, warming me up.

“I love you, too. So much.” My palm slid up his chest, catching the glint of the diamond on my finger. My grandmother’s ring. She’d died young in battle before Tristan was even born. Though I’d never met her, I knew how deeply she’d loved my grandfather, and he’d set it aside for his future granddaughter.

He’d saved the book for Tristan.