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“I’d be honored.”
He twined his fingers with hers and led her to the turned-down bed that had been strewn with rose petals in anticipation of their arrival. Drew her onto the edge beside him and held out the sheet of paper.
Angling it toward the soft light that suffused the room, she read it through in silence.
“Wow.” She handed it back, her voice hushed. “What a beautiful letter.”
“And great advice.”
“For both spouses.”
“I wish I could have lived up to the forgiveness part with Joseph Butler.” He exhaled and refolded the letter. “I doubt I’ll ever be as fine a man as my father.”
She smoothed out the wrinkles in his brow with a gentle touch. “You’re plenty fine in your own right, Marc Davis. Close to perfect, if you want my opinion.”
“Nowhere near perfect.”
“You’re perfect for me.”
The tenderness in her expression fed the flame in his heart. “You’re biased.”
“Maybe a little. But I’m also a realist, and I know a treasurewhen I see it. As for forgiveness ... you may get to that someday.”
“I’m a realist too, and I don’t think so. I’ve made progress since my trip to Kansas City, but I have a feeling I’ve come as close to forgiving as I’ll ever get. So you know what? I’m going to follow the example you’ve set over the past few months with your birth father. I’m going to give it to God. Let the pain and anger and bitterness go. Wash my hands of the past and look to the future—with you.” He set the letter on the bedside table and methodically began to remove the pins from her hair.
Bri’s eyelids drifted closed, and she gave a deep, satisfied sigh. “You know what’s perfect? This moment.”
“If you think this is perfect, wait until Paris.”
Her lashes fluttered open, and not even the famed glittering light show on the Eiffel Tower that they’d soon witness would be able to rival the megawatt glow of love in the depths of her sapphire eyes. “Perfect is anywhere with you, Marc Davis.”
She reached up, and as she traced a finger along the line of his jaw, he captured her hand. Pressed his lips to her palm. Eased her back onto the sheets, among the rose petals.
And as their sweet perfume swirled around them ... as he captured her mouth in a kiss that hinted at the passion to come ... as he pulled her close against him until their heartbeats mingled ... Marc gave thanks.
For imperfect as he was, God had blessed him with a gift beyond value. One more precious than gold.
A woman whose goodness and convictions and kindness and empathy had filled his world with joy and grace and contentment through the fall and winter and spring and summer when their love had grown and blossomed.
As they would during all the seasons of his life to come—and for all the magical and memorable years ahead that they would spend together as man and wife.
