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“You didn’t lose yourself to the very drugs our fathers peddled and we hated.”
“And neither did you.” He grabs my chin and pulls my gaze up. “You used for a little while, but you’re not lost. You’re right here, you became Walker. You have this amazing job that I hate so fucking much. You’re brave, you protect the innocent, and you take people like Colum Bishop and Raymond Tate off the streets. You did everything that you said you were going to do, but I drew pictures and played with computers. I considered myself so fucking superior, so mad, like the world owed me something.”
“The world did owe you. You lived in an alleyway.”
“And you lived in Hell. At least I was free. I was able to form bonds with whoever I wanted to. I could come and go as I pleased, I could do anything I wanted, and in my spare time, I was with you. I was drawing you, I was studying your face, and I knew you were safe.”
“I didn’t know you were safe.” I sniffle and try to stand taller. “I didn’t know.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner. I could have come to you the very next day. I could have knocked on your fucking window and stolen you away. You would have come, we could have been a team for all these years.” He presses another kiss to my lips, slower this time. Gentler. “You would have known my street rat life, but we would have been free together, we could have ruled that damn alleyway.” Chuckling, he kisses me again. “It was a shitty kingdom, but it was–”
“Better than my dorm room,” I finish. “Better than the sour-sisters and cocaine and Hell.”
He nods. “I’m sorry. You were right; we were all victims, and no matter the chip on my shoulder, I wasn’t even the worst done by. I held on to all this anger, I created my army of one, and I was willing to die in battle against…” he shakes his head. “Against other victims.”
“This is why you need me.” Smiling, I stand on my toes when he pulls me up and presses soft, pecking kisses along my lips. “I told you to calm your shit before that meeting. I knew you weren’t using your brain.”
“This is why I need you.” Gunner slides his hands along my body, over my ribs, and down to cup my ass, then without warning, he lifts me in one easy swoop and swallows my squeak of panic. “Relax.” Kissing me, he walks toward the stairs and carries me up as though I weigh nothing.
The chubby girl inside me thrills at how easily he carries me around.
Our tour is over for now, because he carries me up that one set of steps, through the kitchen and living area, and up the circular set so we reach the next level and move toward the bedroom. His tongue does magical things to mine. His hands squeeze and knead my ass. And when we enter a dark room at the north end of the house, Gunner lowers me to a bed I could swear is made of clouds conjured by Greek gods. So soft, so luxurious.
He lays me back and follows me down so his knees rest between my legs. “Libby?” He pushes my hair off my face and lays enough of his weight on me that I feel both of us racing for breath. When I open my eyes and meet his beautiful blues, he grins. “I loved you after knowing you for an hour.”
I smile. “I know. I loved you too.”
“And I love you more now. Because I’m a man, and I know what it means to love. I know my role, I know my responsibilities when I say those words.”
I nibble on my bottom lip and nod. “I know. I trust you, even when I don’t like you.”
He chuckles. “So let’s consider this our honeymoon. We don’t have to marry right now, but we’ve already declared ownership. Neither of us are going anywhere. So let’s fast forward to the honeymoon, we can have a nice time, I’ll prove to you that I’ll never run again, and in exchange…” He stops, thinks, considers, “You’ll try this amazing turkey recipe I have.”
“Ugh!” I try to hit him, but it’s soft and dumb, because I have no room to wind up. “You’re so stupid, I swear.”
Laughing, he grabs both of my wrists and pins them above my head. “Marry me, Libby. I already know the answer, so I’m not even nervous. You’re kinda obsessed with me, so…”
He’s the boy from the club. Silly, smug, and arrogant. He’s exactly who I fell in love with. “You already know the answer.” Despite my hands being pinned above my head, I still manage to lift up and draw his lips to mine. “So yeah, I guess. But–”
He pulls back with pursed lips. “But. There’s always a but.”
I nod. “But, I will marry Gunner Bishop, not Theo Griffin.”
“Babe!”
“Make it happen, Bishop. You can keep Theo for your company shit, and I swear, when in the office, I will call you Theo if that’s what you need. But inourworld, in our everyday lives, and on my marriage certificate, it will say Gunner Bishop, because that’s the name you were always supposed to have.”
“I can’t do Bishop on the certificate, Lib.” Eyes blazing with what may be regret, his voice turns serious. “That kid went missing twenty years ago, he was declared dead a little while after that. I can’t resurrect him on paper unless I want some massive auditing problems.” Arranging himself over me, he frees up a hand to brush wispy strands of hair off my face. “I would. If it meantthatmuch to you, I could make it happen. But I should first mention the trouble I’d get into. Possibly even time in prison. You know this, Lib. You can’t just pick up a new name, forge documents, and expect to get away with it.”
My brows furrow, because he makes a logical point. We would all be in a lot of trouble – even me, for not reporting what I know. I’m a cop, I know of crimes, and I’m not reporting them.
“Okay.” I hate how my voice cracks on my word. “Not on the certificate. But when it’s just me and you, you’re Gunner. I can’t make love to Theo. I can’t make babies with– Oh my God.” I hate the way my body deflates. “What would our babies’ names be?”
He swallows. “Griffin is a good name. It’s strong, worthy, and named for a good man. It’s the name our children will bear, and the empire they’ll one day rule. Stop thinking of it as a second choice, and instead remember that I chose it. It’s not the runner-up, but the winner. It’s the choice I made when I could have picked anything.” He drops a kiss on the corner of my lips. “I actually like my new name. I’m proud of it. I hope one day you can be, too.”
“But… Gunner is what your mom named you. And Gunner is the name of that boy I watched run down a set of stairs. Gunner is the boy that hugged me in the cold wind, and he’s the boy I talked to about all of my deepest secrets.” My voice gives a pathetic wobble that annoys me. “I can’t let him go.”
“Just let him go on paper.” He releases my hands, and with a gentle smile, brings one to his chest so it’s almost crushed between us. “I’m still the same person in here. I’ll still hold you when you’re cold, and there’s nothing you can’t tell me. I’m still the arrogant kid that teased your knees, and I’ll forever be the guy that taught you ‘hard spot, soft spot’.”
