I bite my lip to keep it from wobbling again at the thought of a young Declan, scared and alone and feeling so out of place. Feeling unwanted.
He’ll never have to feel that way again, if I can help it.
“For my entire adult life, I’ve been running,” he continues. “I’ve never stayed in one place long enough for it to feel like home, and I’ve never found anywhere – or anybody – who could change that.” He sweeps a thumb across my cheek and smiles, that sweet, soft grin he reserves just for me. “Until you.”
“Why me?” I whisper. I know it’s an unfair, needy question, but I can’t help it.
“You feel like home,” he says simply. “I don’t know if this town would have felt like such a soft place to land if you weren’t here. But for the first time, I’m actually working on building a life somewhere. Planting roots. I have my job, my best friend. My mom isn’t too far away. You’re not the only thing tethering me to this town, but Elsie,” he says, leaning his forehead against mine, “you’re the thing that matters most. I’d walk away from all of it if you decided you wanted to leave. Wherever you go, I go.”
Declan surprises me then by stepping back and tugging down the neckline of his T-shirt. The splash of color on the skin right abovehis heart is so unexpected, it takes me a second to process what I’m looking at: a bundle of lavender in full color, the vibrant purple and green a stark contrast against the rest of his black and gray tattoos.
“What is this?” I itch to run my fingers across the fresh ink, but the skin there is shiny with whatever he applies to aid in the healing process. I lean closer for a better look, noting the way the lavender snakes up his chest toward his collarbone.
“I wanted to have a piece of you wherever I go,” Declan says casually, as if it’s not singlehandedly the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me. “To remind me of you. Remind me ofhome. Something I never thought I’d have, but instead found in a beautiful, hazel-eyed florist with wild hair and a laugh that almost knocked me on my ass the first time I heard it.”
“Are youtryingto make me cry?” I laugh, but it’s a watery, garbled sound.
“You’re the girl with the flowers,” he says softly, and for the very first time, the nickname makes my heart swell. “Always spreading happiness and smelling just a little bit like lavender everywhere you go. When I went to your house after our first date, I thought,of course she lives here. I haven’t been able to look at lavender the same way since.” Declan smiles and shakes his head, maybe a little bit embarrassed by the way he’s laying his heart bare for me.
“That time you brought flowers over to the shop,” he continues, “they were –”
“Lavender and baby’s breath. I remember.”
“I was so happy,” he laughs. “It felt like you were giving me a little piece of yourself. Since we met, all I’ve wanted is to collect as many pieces of you as I can manage. I’ve always been greedy when it comes to you.”
You can have every single piece of me, I want to tell him. Instead, I say stupidly, “You got a color tattoo.”
He tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear and lets his hand linger, cradling my cheek once again.
“My life didn’t have much color until you came along,” he says seriously. “You brought all the color into my life, with your flowers and your sundresses and your kind smiles. The way you live your life in full bloom.”
God,this man. I lean my cheek into his palm and close my eyes for a moment, just taking in everything he said and everything it means for us.
He’s here to stay. He loves me.
He would go anywhere I go, though I have no intentions of leaving Port Myles. It’s exactly what I’ve always wanted – for someone to chooseme. To prove that sometimes, love reallyisenough.
I pull back and look into the eyes I hope to see staring back at me for the rest of our lives. I want to see his handsome face in every iteration, as it matures with age and wrinkles settle at the corners of his eyes, and the crease by his mouth deepens from decades of laughing together. I want to see his tattooed hands cradling our newborn baby someday, and reaching for mine as we weather all of life’s storms together.
When he drops his hand from my face, I grab it and twine our fingers together. Before I can say any of the thousand things I probably should right now, something occurs to me.
“Wait – when did you get that tattoo?”
Declan shrugs. “Couple days ago. Tuesday, I think?”
I blink several times, hoping to ward off the tears that are threatening to spill over.
“Even after everything that happened at the wedding, you were that confident in us – inme– to get a permanent reminder inked onto your chest?” If I sound incredulous, it’s only because I am.
Declan shrugs with a sheepish grin and runs a hand over the back of his head. “Just had a hunch things would work out,” he admits. “I was willing to wait however long that took.”
“I love you,” I tell him, because he deserves to hear those words again and again. I might not be able to erase the memory of all the years he went without hearing them, but I can try.
“Fuck,” Declan mutters. His eyes flutter closed, and when they pop back open, they’re filled with a mix of hope and fear and anguish andlove, so much love I could swim in the depths of it. “Gonna take me a bit to get used to hearing that.”
“You will,” I assure him. “I meant everything I said before. I’m going to start seeing a therapist and work through the anxiety that’s been holding me back. I’m done letting my fears control me.”
I take a deep breath for courage. If Declan can lay all his cards out on the table, along with his bruised and beating heart, then so can I.
