“I was going to legally change it once I turned eighteen, but everyone was already so used to Matt and then I got that account from my grandmother, so I thought maybe it would be better ifI had money no one knew about. Especially if anyone ever came knocking about my dad. So I just stuck with it.”
“Winters is your mum’s or your dad’s last name?”
“Mom’s. That part I did change at eighteen. If I’d kept my father’s, I would have just said fuck it and gotten rid of it all together. Hayes is a pretty cool last name to have. If you wanted to share it with me, of course.”
I grinned. “I’d share anything with you.”
“Oh, that reminds me.” He grabbed his wallet from the front pocket of his jeans. He opened it, pulled out a black card, and held it out to me. “I spent the day making sure you were an authorized user. This card links directly to the account and there’s no limit.”
I stepped forward cautiously and took the card from his hand. It was for a bank I didn’t recognize, with sixteen digits, an expiry date, and my name—well, my future name.Violet Winterhayes.
“This… This is too much.”
I wasn’t entirely sure why I said that or where my tears came from. Maybe it was his willingness to hand over unlimited access to his fortune. Maybe it was seeing a glimpse of the future he was planning. Maybe it was relief that I wasn’t alone anymore.
Or maybe it was the overwhelming sadness that hit me like a freight train, remembering my parents weren’t here. That I couldn’t call my mum and tell her about him, that she wouldn’t be going dress shopping with me, that we wouldn’t bicker over seating arrangements. That my dad would never sit across the table from Aus, trying to grill and intimidate him. That he would never get the chance to weasel his way into my dad’s good graces. They would never get to bond over barbecues and beers, laughing in the backyard while Mum and I laughed at their bickering over a pitcher of sangria.
Austin pulled me into his arms and held me while sob after sob tore through me. They would have loved him. Dad would have given him a hard time for a bit but he wouldn’t have lasted more than a week before they were best buds. He would invite Austin over for Sunday night football and Aus would have gone—every Sunday without fail—even though he wasn’t a football fan, because it would have made me happy. Mum would have spent every visit asking when we’d finally give her grandbabies. He would laugh—tell her we were working on it. He would wink at me and I would smack him, tell him to behave himself.
This was the first time I’d ever really considered how much of my life I would have to live without them. Thought about how much I wished they were still here so I could share these moments with them.
“They would have loved you,” I whispered. “I think they would have loved you more than me.”
His arms wrapped tighter around me as he planted kiss after kiss on the top of my head. He seemed to have followed my thought process because he didn’t ask me to clarify.
“Of course they would have, I’m the best,” he teased.
I laughed through a sob. “You truly are.”
He pulled back, only enough that he could cup my cheeks. “I love you and I can’t wait to share the rest of my life with you, but if you need me to slow down, I will. I didn’t mean to drag up all these emotions and I really hate seeing you cry. Tell me what to do. Tell me what you need.”
I was so fucking lucky. He was so fucking perfect.
I shook my head. “Don’t slow down.”
He sighed in relief. “Thank god, because I’d already gotten ahead of myself.”
I laughed. “What did you do?”
“We have an appointment Monday morning at the courthouse.” He was absolutely beaming. “I booked it first thing so we can go before work.”
“But… We don’t even have a licence. We have?—”
“I did it last night. Submitted everything after you fell asleep. I got it back this afternoon all we have to do is sign it, and I get to call you my wife.”
“Aus…”
He dropped his forehead onto mine and whispered, “Tell me to slow down, Nightshade.”
“I don’t want to.”
37
THE VILLAIN
I wasantsy all day Sunday. Stupid courthouse for being closed on the weekends. Stupid me for asking her to marry me on a damn Friday. Extra stupid me for booking our appointment at the beginning of the day when she had to spend eight fucking hours at the hospital after. In hindsight, I should have booked the last appointment of the day—5:30—because she was off Tuesday and Wednesday this week. I could have spent sixty straight hours with my wife.
Instead, I had to take her right to work.
