Page 43 of One Weekend in London

To my disappointment, the lights dim, signaling the end of intermission. And just as before, the rest of the show passes in a blur of color and song, but I scarcely notice.

As I’m becoming accustomed to being, I remain lost in Sadie, in the way she mouths along to the heart-wrenching lyrics of the final number, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Christ, how Mum would have loved her.

As the cast takes their bows and the audience rises to their feet in thunderous applause, I stay seated, content to simply watch her, to bask in her happiness.

Happiness I put there.

With my gaze remaining on her, I make a silent promise—to myself, to her. I’ll do everything in my power to keep that look on her face, that brightness shining in her eyes.

No matter what it takes or how hard I must fight, one day, I’ll make Sadie Winslow my wife, along with the mother of my children, giving her the happily ever after she’s always deserved.

There’s no other acceptable outcome.

CHAPTER 16

Rhys

The rain that now falls is a bloody nuisance.

As we exit the theatre, the heavens open up, an irritating end to an otherwise perfect day. I move to guide Sadie into the waiting car, shielding her from the sudden downpour with my jacket. But she surprises me by stepping out of reach and turning her face up to the weeping sky.

Raindrops cling to her soot-colored lashes before trailing down her cheeks. She’s beautiful, remarkably so, even when drenched. But I’m more concerned with getting her out of this deluge before she catches a chill, or worse, becomes sick.

“What are you doing, love?” I call over the roar of the rain, my no-longer-styled hair plastered to my crinkled forehead. “You’ll catch your death out here. Let’s get you inside.”

She laughs, the sound bright and carefree as she spins in a circle, her arms outstretched, palms facing the heavens, reminding me of the moment we shared earlier on my yacht. Only now she isn’t thrown over my shoulder, her hands gripping the back of my shirt.

But if she doesn’t get in the car, that’ll change.

“Don’t worry. Promise I’ll be fine. I’m just busy letting the rain wash away the last of my past.” Her eyes meet mine, sparkling with an emotion I can’t read. “A task you started when you rescued me at The Opulence and asked me to stay and have a drink with you.”

I swallow hard, emotion clogging my throat. “Sadie...”

She dances closer, her soaked dress clinging tightly to her every curve. Bloody hell, she’s a vision with her drenched hair and glistening, rain-kissed skin. Even as desperate as I am to get her out of the weather, I can’t tear my gaze away, my fingers itching to once more trace the lines of her body, to feel her warmth as I sink my cock deep inside her.

She’s so close now I can smell her, her signature sunshine and honey scent mixing with the rain. I ache to grab her, pulling her into me. “Want to know something, handsome? There’s something I’d really like from you right now. Something I’ve always wanted to do.”

“Name it.” I waste no time. “Whatever it is, it’s yours.”

Her smile grows, remaining soft. “Dance with me? Here, in the rain? It’s something my papaw and mamaw used to do during summer afternoon downpours. And they were always so happy, so in love, even after fifty years together and—”

“Phillips,” I say through the now open door of the waiting car, momentarily interrupting her. “The radio, if you please.”

Sadie’s breath catches.

It’s such a simple request she’s made, yet to her, I imagine it feels significant. Mainly because I suspect she’s offering me a piece of her heart, hoping I’ll keep it safe.

I’ll die before I betray that trust.

A gray-haired Phillips, one of my part-time drivers, grins knowingly, the uptick of his lips deepening his wrinkles. He shoots a knowing look at a stoic Mark, who stands by the front of the vehicle. Seconds later, the dulcet tones of Etta James singing “At Last” fill the night air, mingling with the steady patter of rainfall.

Uncaring of the patrons passing by as they exit the theatre, I pull Sadie into my arms, one hand settling on her waist, the other twining with hers. She comes willingly, melting into me like she understands she was made to fit in my arms.

As we sway to the music, our bodies moving in sync, I feel some of the last of her walls crumbling, one of the final barriers between us dissolving.

My teeth gritted, I pray she’s listening to what her soul is undoubtedly screaming—I’m what she needs, what she wants—and is finally deciding to let me in. Trusting me not just with her heart but with her hopes and dreams.

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