Page 105 of Something Forever

“Whitney,” I manage, overtaken by emotion. “God, Whitney.”

“Do you like it?”

My reply is pressing my mouth to hers like it’s a drug I can’t get enough of. Sliding my hands to the side of her face, I groan against her lips as she opens her mouth to me, kissing me with ardor.

“It’s perfect,” I say against her. “You’re perfect.”

I pull back to stare at the ring on my finger, marveling in how right it feels. I love the way our hands look intertwined, both of us wearing the symbol of our bond. Now the whole world is going to know that she’s mine and I’m hers.

Totally and completely hers.

A few days later, we say goodbye to Simon and my mum, heading back to London to go sightseeing before we go home. Our goodbyes are an emotional affair, my mum crying and hugging me for a solid five minutes. It makes me feel guilty for not coming home more often, but Whitney promises that we will visit again soon.

We climb into the car as Simon loads our bags into the boot. My mum clasps Whitney’s hand from the passenger window, the two of them whispering in hushed, emotional tones.

“I love you,” my mum says at last.

“I love you, too. I’ll text you updates of our time in London.”

Everyone yells goodbyes through the window as I pull the car from the driveway. Whitney sighs, settling into the seat next to me, so I reach over the gearstick and grasp her hand in mine.

“Should I say I told you so?” I ask.

She narrows her eyes at me. “For what?”

“My mum. She absolutely adores you, as I knew she would. Simon, too. You were a nervous wreck on the way here and now you’re a picture of contentment.”

“I was not a nervous wreck.” She rubs her thumb on the back of my hand. “It was a great trip. This is such a beautiful town, and I love their house.”

“Would you ever consider moving here?” I ask her.

She blinks. “Would you want to move back?”

I shrug. “I don’t think so. I’ve never really thought about it. I’m a dual citizen, so I could come back.”

She gazes out the window. “I love New York, and I’ve never lived outside the United States. Hardly even travelled in Europe, even though I’ve always wanted to.”

It’s quiet for a moment.

“I think I would move. If you wanted to,” she says eventually.

I love you.

Whitney releases my hand and slips her phone out, fiddling with the Bluetooth and putting on a playlist she likes, which turns out to be entirely Taylor Swift songs. Not that I’m too mad about it. My wife’s habits have somehow rubbed off on me. Last month, I found myself singing Lover in the shower.

We hit traffic when we get to London but eventually check into the hotel. It’s a brand new Hyatt Marks Hotel, the first of its kind in London. Whitney is eager to hit the ground running and has a list of activities to do and places to go. In classic Whitney fashion, it’s incredibly organized, everything planned out down to the hour. We’ve only got two days before we head back to New York, so she’s really crammed it in.

The first thing we do is head to Tower Bridge, which Whitney mistakenly calls London Bridge. She argues with me about it for fifteen minutes before eventually Googling it and realizing that I am right. After that, we walk through Borough Market and pop into a pub for a drink.

“You have to drink beer,” I tell her when we stumble upon a corner pub.

She wrinkles her nose. “Fine. When in Rome, I guess.”

After a pint each, we go to the London eye and ride the Ferris wheel, watching the sunset over the river. It’s a perfect moment. Whitney has probably taken a hundred photos since we’ve arrived in England, but when she snaps a selfie of us at the top, I know it’s going to be my favorite. My heart fills with warmth as I wrap my arms around her, feeling more at peace than I have since Luke died. This woman has come into my life and somehow, without me even realizing, has healed me. I don’t know if I’ll ever be who I once was, if I’ll ever stop missing him and the life I had, but right now, with my wife in my arms, all I feel is gratitude.

Gratitude, awe, and most of all… love.

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