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“I’ve never loved anyone other than my family, Parker.”
“I’ve never loved anyone other than Allison,” I confess.
His lips twitch into a smirk. “Be my wife,” he murmurs as he rests his forehead against mine.
“Yes,” I exhale.
I’m not sure if this is the right thing to do. Someone he knows kidnapped me, and I still need to know what happened there. He killed a man, and we had sex in his blood. That should terrify me, except it didn’t. Instead, I felt loved. I’m not sure that this relationship is anywhere near normal, but I’m also not sure I care.
No, wait.
I know I don’t care.
When I thought that I was going to die, all I cared about was the fact that I would not be able to live a life with Wells. I wasn’t going to learn more about him. I wasn’t going to kiss him or touch him again. I was sure that what we had was going to be over.
Regardless of the reasons behind my kidnapping, behind that man’s murder, I no longer care. I’m going to hold on to this life with both hands, on to this man with both hands, and I’m never letting go… no matter what I discover about him.
He is mine, and I am, without a doubt, irrevocably his.
Always.
Epilogue
PARKER
ONE MONTH LATER
Glancingdown at the letter in my hand, my eyes catch the ring on my left finger. My engagement ring. Smiling, I move it around so the light catches it just right and causes it to sparkle.
It’s beautiful. I cannot believe that just a few months ago, I was single and full of anxiety to the point that I couldn’t even make it up to Doctor Hamilton’s office. Now I’m engaged to her son, and I call her Brenda.
She’s also helped me through the second most terrifying moment in my life. My kidnapping. But I feel better. I feel like I’m a whole person. I have a man who loves me. And he does. He tells me at least once a day, if not more. I would have never guessed him to be a man who openly expressed his love, but he does—often.
Looking down at the envelope again, I scan the outside and try to figure out where it came from. There is no return address, not even a stamp. Someone scrawled my name across the front and dropped it into the mail slot in the lobby of the building.
Sliding my tongue across my bottom lip, I sink my teeth down and scrape them across, looking for a piece of dry skin to peel off. Extending my finger, I flip the envelope over and glide my finger beneath the flap.
As I open it, I try to gulp down the lump in my throat, but it doesn’t work out too well. I’m not sure why I’m nervous, but I really am. It’s the fear of the unknown that has me so on edge. This could be anything. Maybe I should wait until Allison comes over.
Placing it down on the counter, I decide to do that. She’s going to be here any minute. Standing from the barstool, I take a step backward and let out a heavy sigh. I hold my breath for a moment as I stare at the envelope for another beat before I turn around and walk away from it.
I don’t go far. Just to the living room so I can pace. And wait. And pace some more as I wait for Allison to arrive. She’s supposed to come over and help me look through wedding websites and magazines.
I’m not sure why we’re even doing it. Wells already told me that we were going to do an all-inclusive wedding deal with a planner, and all I had to do was choose colors, try on dresses, and show up.
I know I’m supposed to be excited about the wedding. I’m supposed to want to plan everything. But I really don’t. I’m glad to have it taken off my plate, especially since I’ve never even been to a wedding.
There is a knock on the door, and my spine straightens. I turn my head to look at the closed door before I realize who it is. I hear her call out to me, something she’s been doing since I was kidnapped. I won’t even walk to a door and look through the peephole again until I know who is on the other side.
I’m sure it makes me unhealed, broken, or whatever. But I don’t care. I’ll probably never blindly open a door again for as long as I live.
Looking through the peephole, I double-check to see if it’s really Allison and make sure that she’s alone. She’s on the other side of the door, a smile on her face, knowing that I’m looking at her through the peephole.
I open the door, step to the side, and let her walk past me. Closing the door, I lock it, then turn to her. “Okay, I came prepared with sticky notes and everything,” she says chirpily as she makes her way over to the breakfast table and sets everything down.
Making my way to the counter, I grab the envelope and take it over to the table. “Before we get started,” I say, “I got this in the mail. I don’t know what it is, but it feels wrong.”
Allison looks down at the envelope but doesn’t touch it. Instead, she stares at it like it’s going to jump up and bite her. I feel the same way. I already opened it. But I haven’t looked inside. I don’t think I can. This is dumb.
