Page 111 of The Unwanted Wife

"Nate." My heart feels too big for my chest. There are all these emotions racing through me, and I’m not sure if I can contain them. It feels too big for me. "I love you, Nate."

His features soften, and his eyes darken with feeling. "I’ll never get enough of hearing those words from you. And I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m selfish enough to take it. I intend to spend every day of my life making you happy. I promise to protect your dreams, because they are my dreams, too. I vow to nurture your ambitions, for they hold our future. I will always honor, encourage, support, and cherish you. I promise to always hold your hand, to make you laugh, to encourage you to achieve your goals, and to be your safe space when the world gets tough."

"Oh, Nate." A tear rolls down my cheek.

He wipes it away.

"Every moment with you feels like the greatest gift life could have given me. With every beat of my heart, I hear your name. All that I am and all that I can be, I owe it to you. You are my inspiration, my safe refuge from the storms of life, my happy place, and I want to call you mine, forever."

That lightness in my chest spreads to the rest of my body. A burst of joy, of happiness, of rainbows in the sky and birdsong in the air. A feeling of being given everything, of how lucky I am, fills me.

He kisses my knuckles, then leans in until his breath brushes my cheek. "Let me lift you up when you can't lift yourself. Let me have your back. Give me the chance to love you unconditionally, until my last breath." He holds my gaze. "Will you do that?"

58

Skylar

I whisk together the flour, sugar, baking soda, and salt. My wedding band—the simple, no-frills platinum one that my husband got for me so I could wear it even while I'm baking—glints in the fluorescent lights of the bakery. Business is booming, and footfall to the bakery has tripled in the last few days. So much so, we keep selling out by noon and have to close. It’s a problem I’m not complaining about, but we definitely need to make some adjustments, so it doesn't become a habit. Besides, it gives me time to test out recipes in the kitchen, something I love doing.

I beat the egg yolks into the cooled butter-stout mixture I made and set aside earlier. Yep, this one has stout beer, in this case, Guinness, which was Ben’s favorite beer.

The first time he took me to our local pub, when I turned twenty-one, was after much cajoling, and only after I threatened to go there on my own if he didn’t. I asked for a glass of wine, and Ben allowed me a small one. He insisted I have a spritzer, giving in when I scowled at him. For himself, he ordered a pint of Guinness. When our drinks arrived, we raised our glasses.

"To my gorgeous sister, who’s all grown up—but remember, all of your boyfriends need to be approved by me." He smirked.

He had the last laugh. He wasn’t around to approve of the men I dated, but he did give his blessing for me and his best friend—now my husband—to be together when he made Nate promise to look after me.

I rolled my eyes, clinked my glass with his mug, took a sip of the wine—and made an oooh noise. Inwardly, I winced because the wine tasted more acidic than I’d expected.

Ben took a sip of the Guinness, and when he looked at me, I laughed. "You have a beer mustache.”

"You talking about my yeasty crumb catcher?" He chuckled.

"Whatever.”

“Here, give it a try.” He offered me his mug of beer.

I took a sip of the Guinness and promptly gagged. "Ugh!"

"Don’t like it?" He cackled.

"It tastes bitter, almost metallic." I made a face at him.

"It’s the nectar of the gods." He took another long pull of the beer, then licked off the foam."Remember Skye, life is like a foam 'stache," he intoned.

I fixed him with a disbelieving look. "Oh?"

He nodded. "Here one minute, gone the next. It’s what you make of it when you’re wearing it that counts."

I shot a dramatic glance upward, as if praying for divine intervention. "Is this another of your kernels of wisdom?"

He thought for a minute, then shook his head. "Nah, just made that up, but it sounded profound, didn’t it?" He laughed.

I shook my head. My big, goofy older brother.

This had become our tradition whenever he was home between his tours. We’d head to the pub, where he’d buy me a spritzer. It didn’t matter that I drank wine when I was out with my friends; he always treated me like I’d just turned twenty-one. He’d offer me his Guinness, which I’d always turn down, and that would draw forth some other platitude from him.

On one of our last such outings, he seemed happy, almost content. It was wishful thinking on my part that he’d met someone. If he had, he didn’t tell me. But I secretly hoped he’d found a woman who’d be waiting for him, someone loyal to him, someone who’d love him and care for him, and perhaps, give him a reason to not return on another mission.

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