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Outside, the sun made its lazy descent toward the horizon. No longer blood red, it painted the sky in different shades of magenta and cast soft orange light through the window to spill over their bed. Donovan’s skin glowed against hers, his natural tan contrasting sharply with her pale complexion.
No other man had ever possessed her heart, body, and soul as he did. He still clutched her tightly against him, but he’d shifted to his back so as not to crush her, pulling her on top. His fingertips grazed her shoulder, setting off new little sparks along all of her nerve endings. His heart thumped loudly under her ear, and she smiled as she nuzzled in closer to him and inhaled deeply. He smelled of cedar and rain—such an improvement from hospital antiseptic—and she swore she got a buzz just from breathing him in.
“You’re mine,” he whispered, his voice soft yet firm.
She let out a deep sigh as she melted into his arms. “Yes.”
“I love you, Sasha.”
Love, shockingly bright and all-encompassing, filled her chest and spread warmth throughout her entire body. They had both lost their homes in the fire, but it didn’t matter. His presence was the only thing she needed. Wherever he was had become the place she belonged in the world.
“I love you, too,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper. No hesitation. No worries that she was making a mistake. Donovan Scott may not have been anywhere in her original life plan… but now she couldn’t imagine a life without him in it. And she was willing to risk it all to stay with him. “Let’s get married.”
She felt his lips curve into a smile by her temple. “So marrying the town bad boy is on your checklist now? You want me in a tux for a big June wedding?”
She straddled him and ran her hands up over his tattooed chest. “Fuck the list.”
He laughed, the sound booming through the room. “I’d rather fuck you.”
She jumped off the bed, shying out of his reach. “You can do that again right after we fly to Vegas tonight and get married by Elvis.”
Rolling, he propped himself up on his elbow and watched her pull her dress back on. “Elvis, huh?”
“Or whoever. And wherever. I don’t want to wait. I’m done playing it safe.”
“That sounds perfect.” He slid off the bed and kissed her shoulder before helping her re-lace the dress. “Book the flights.” When he turned her to face him, his smile faded. “There’s just one thing I have to do first.”
“Meet Ash?”
“Yeah.”
“I know. Go get it over with and come back to me.” She hated the sudden sadness in his eyes and cupped his cheek, offering a smile. “I’ll be at the airport waiting to whisk you off to Vegas and make an honest man out of you.”
His grin returned. “Oh, angel. You got your work cut out for you.”
epilogue
From the front seat of Ash’s Tahoe, Donovan stared at the row of brightly painted Victorian homes on a quiet street in San Francisco.
The robin’s egg blue one in the middle was their target.
He rubbed at the back of his neck as tension clamped around his spine. “You’re sure she’s in there?”
“Positive,” Ash said. “She and her husband bought it when his company moved here from New York last summer. You ready for this?”
“No, Goddammit.” But he shoved out of the car and strode across the street. He hesitated at the door, then cursed at himself and lifted a hand to knock.
When she answered, all the air left his lungs. It was like getting bitch-slapped with the past. The girl this woman had once been haunted him in nightmares and hallucinations, and now here she was in the flesh. She looked the same but also so very different—older and more polished, her hair now blond and her belly heavy with pregnancy. But she had the same eyes, the same sad smile.
“Darcy.”
She froze at the sight of him and lifted her face toward the ceiling as if in prayer. But the Darcy he knew had never been the praying type before.
Finally, she stepped back and waved him inside. “Hi, Van.”
His lungs wouldn’t expand, and all he could manage was one strangled question. “Why?”
Tears flooded her eyes. “I just wanted to disappear and become someone else.” She held out her arms and motioned to the clean and bright living room. A diamond bracelet sparkled on her wrist, matching the massive rock on her ring finger. “I’m Mrs. Stella Barclay now, a socialite and CEO’s wife, and I’m expecting a baby with the man I love.”
