Page 128 of Something Forever

“I promise,” I start. “I promise I won’t run away again. I trust you with everything?—”

She silences me with a soft kiss, her hands caressing the side of my face. I can’t help but sigh into her arms, exhaustion overwhelming me, the torment of the past two weeks finally releasing from my body.

“Not now,” she whispers. “I want to show you something.”

She steps out of my arms, and I immediately miss the warmth of her. She goes back behind the desk and pulls out a piece of paper, crossing back over to me and holding it out for me to look at. I hesitate, unsure, but she pushes it towards me with a smile.

I take the paper from her hands, reading through it. I’m only halfway through when my mouth falls open in disbelief.

“Whit,” I choke out, the tears I just swallowed resurfacing. “Are you sure?”

She nods, that calm, confident smile still resting in her expression. “More sure than I’ve ever been of anything.”

I glance down at the piece of paper, warmth filling my chest.

Whitney Clark.

She legally changed her name. She’s officially Mrs. Clark. My wife.

My fucking wife.

I sweep her up in my arms, pressing kisses against her lips, her chin, her nose, everywhere I can touch.

“I want to marry you,” I breathe against her neck.

She chuckles lightly, running her hands across the broad expanse of my back as her lips brush against my ear. “Last I checked, we were married.”

I pull back and meet her gaze. “I mean for real. I want my parents there. I want Darius and Jackson there. I want everyone to know that you’re mine forever.”

Her eyes widen, a smile spreading across her face. “Really?”

“Whitney Clark,” I say, just because it feels so damn good on my lips. “Whitney Clark is my wife!” I shout the words, and she presses her hand against my lips, muffling the sound. “Say yes,” I beg her, reaching my hand up to intertwine our fingers and press a kiss to the back of her hand.

“Yes, Liam Clark,” she announces, her eyes locking onto mine, shining with love and hope and a million other beautiful emotions. “I will marry you. Again.”

47

WHITNEY

SIX MONTHS LATER

Liam and I get married for the second time on a summer evening at the Cloisters, surrounded by all of our closest friends and family.

It’s perfect.

I wasn’t nervous at all during the ceremony. I thought I’d be anxious walking down the aisle, but I was filled with a sense of perfect calmness and peace. Seeing Liam waiting for me, the excitement and awe in his expression, the tears swimming in his eyes as he took me in, I knew that I was exactly where I was supposed to be. That as long as I had him by my side, I could face anything.

Now, everyone is getting down on the dance floor while Liam and I hide in the corner like two horny teenagers.

“I thought you threw this party to show me off,” I tease against his lips as he slides his hand down the line of my spine, the open back of my dress leaving it entirely bare.

He hums against me with a smile. “I changed my mind. I’m feeling selfish. I want you all to myself.”

I chuckle, pressing a palm against his chest. “We’re being terrible hosts.”

“I don’t care,” he mumbles as his eyes darken, sparkling with desire. “How fast do you think you can get out of that dress?”

I can’t help but smile at his petulant tone. Ignoring my rush of excitement at his words, I nudge his shoulder. “Be patient. You’ll get your honeymoon soon enough.”

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