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I can’t speak past the emotion thick in my throat, so I nod.
Price waits, unafraid of the silence.
I’ve never sat this long in silence with another person.
Eventually, my composure returns, and the words come to me. “I’m marrying the man who feels secure enough to let me be a little in love with another man.”
The tiniest smile touches his lips.
“I’m marrying the man who I trust with the most vulnerable pieces of myself. I never thought I’d tell another soul outside of my family about the baby I lost before telling you first. But I had to tell Koen because I’ve given him my heart, which means I trust him with everything in it.”
He’s the one who will carefully glue those vulnerable pieces together, gently wrap them in tape, and always see me as whole.
Just the mention of his name makes me miss him. So I slide my phone from my purse and text him to come pick me up. Then I stand, slinging my bag over my shoulder as Price stares at the open journal with his wife staring back at him. “It’s time for me to go home.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
IT’S BEEN TOO LONG, BUT MAYBE NOT LONG ENOUGH.
Price
“Sir,do you need help with something?” the driver asks as I stare at my condo from the back seat of her black sedan.
Spring is in full bloom. The cherry blossoms have passed their peak, but the showy white magnolias are stunning.
“I’m good. Thank you,” I say, opening the door.
After I retrieve my suitcase from the trunk, I push past the fear and make my way to the front door of my gray stone condo.
It’s quiet when I step inside the entry. Astrid should still be in school. I didn’t check the garage for Amelia’s car. As I set my suitcase on the marble floor, I sense movement above me. Glancing up, my wife grips the railing at the top of the stairs with one hand while her other cups her mouth.
In a blink, tears pour down her face. And I’m left feeling just as vulnerable because I love this woman beyond all reason.
Long waves of blonde hair flow down her shoulders, a little unruly, like she let it air dry after a shower. Her dark jeans fitlooser than the last time I saw her, and she’s wearing one of my white dress shirts, tied at the waist.
“Hi,” I say with my heart in my throat. Every emotion I avoided feeling about her so I could heal is bursting to the surface tenfold.
I thought if things went south, I could die alone. But I’m no longer dying (I truly believe it), and I don’t want to live alone. I can’t live without her. Without our little girl.
Amelia takes the first step, but her shaky legs falter, and she lowers to her bottom, one hand still holding the railing.
As much as I want to run up the stairs and wrap her in my arms, I can’t hurry this moment. I don’t want to hurry another moment for the rest of my life. A life I hope is long and filled with meaningful moments. When I reach her, I kneel on the step below her feet.
She covers her face with both hands and sobs. I surrender to the moment and let my tears free while I pull her into my arms. She hugs me so tightly I swear she might shatter my heart and every bit of strength I mustered to come home.
“Y-you’re alive.”
“I’m alive.”
I bury my face in her neck.
“I h-hate you s-so much.” She sobs. “But I love you more.”
My fingers thread through her hair, and I kiss her neck, wet cheeks, and trembling lips. It started the day we met, and I hope I feel it until the day I die—this woman knocking me on my ass two seconds before pressing her lips to mine.
Framing her face, I pull back just enough to look into her red-rimmed eyes.
“Why did you leave us?” she whispers. “Where did you go? Why would you do something so awful to us?”
