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He pulled back and looked again into her eyes. “I did.”
“I see.” She grabbed his hand and led him back down the hall.
“What about Mouse?” he asked.
“With the sedative I gave him back in Denver, he’ll be okay for a little longer.” She tugged at him again, pulling him up the stairs after her.
A possibility occurred to him of where she might be taking him, but he didn’t want to get ahead of himself. Whatever their next steps, he wanted to make sure she was comfortable with the pace they set in their relationship.
The bedroom door to the main suite was wide open, and the large bed with a ridiculous number of pillows on top of it was impossible to miss.
“I was thinking,” she said, turning to face him, “that we never had a proper reunion. And there are few more things that I think we should definitely say to each other. Like how much I love it when you suck in your breath when I apply just the right amount of pressure here,” she said and leaned up to kiss the side of his neck, immediately causing him to suck in his breath to maintain his control.
His hands instinctively gripped her hips, his fingers sinking into her soft skin as he held her against him. “And I love how you taste right here,” he said, nipping the area under her ear. His mouth moved to the other side, repeating the gesture. “And here.”
She sighed. “I think we both can agree we have a lot to say to each other. But first”—she grinned up at him and started to untie the fastening at the side of her dress—“shut the door.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and headed to the door, shutting it quickly before turning around to feast his sight on the woman he was ready to show just how much he loved, cherished, and adored.
Not just right now but for the rest of their lives.
Here in this house or wherever their lives took them. Because wherever Waverley was would be home.
Forever.
Epilogue
Two months later
“I hope she’ll remember me,” Waverley said and twisted her hands nervously in her lap as she sat in the garden outside the residential facility where Ginny Johnson lived.
Reynolds rested his hand over hers. “Don’t worry. It’s going to be fine.”
She nodded and laid her head on his shoulder. True to his word, Reynolds had been her rock over the past few weeks. It hadn’t been easy dealing with attorneys and the government to get the whole Spencer thing behind her, but with Reynolds there as a calming voice and a quiet source of strength, a settlement had finally been reached that was satisfactory to everyone.
Best of all, the money from the sale of the Boulder house was more than enough to reinstate Ginny’s trust so she would be assured of a future wherever and for however long that might be.
Leaving Waverley to focus entirely on her new clothing line, Waverley Designs, a line exclusively for curvy women. Last weekend’s debut in Denver had been incredible, with orders already exceeding what she could fulfill. A delightful dilemma to be in.
Rather than cave to pressure to outsource her manufacturing to international factories or large manufacturers who put out mass quantities of product every day at the risk of producing subpar product, Waverley had had a different idea. She’d sought out and rented a space in downtown Blue Haven where, with the help of ten seamstresses hired from the area, they were already creating quality products that made her and her team proud.
And thanks to her design studio located above Reynolds’s garage, with its large, beautiful space and magnificent views of the graceful Colorado mountain ranges, her inspiration for future designs was endless.
If all that wasn’t enough, she had the luxury and blessing to be able to fall asleep every night and wake up in the loving arms of a man she had never thought she could love so fully and be loved as fully in return.
She thought of the Psalms verse that her mom used to say as she kissed her and tucked her in bed every night. My cup runneth over.
Instantly her heart swelled again, overcome with happiness and peace that she’d never thought she’d have as those words seemed so perfect.
Coming down the path, she caught sight of a young woman with dark blonde hair and wearing a long skirt and white blouse, walking toward them along with a motherly looking attendant holding her arm.
“It’s her. It’s Ginny,” she whispered.
Before today, she’d only met Ginny maybe a dozen times. Spencer had always discouraged Waverley from visiting and upsetting his sister’s daily routine, saying it was for the best, even though Ginny had always been so excited to see them and disappointed to see them go.
She should have pushed it more, should have gone to visit her regardless of what Spencer wanted. Now she would. That is, if she was wanted.
Waverley came to their feet as Ginny approached, and Reynolds kept a distance to give them some privacy. Ginny’s face scrunched up as she studied Waverley, as if she was trying to place who she was and why she was there.
