Page 102 of His Bride

The barista behind the counter gives us a welcoming smile, and the waitress leads us straight to the corner booth where Caelian found me the day everything changed for us. I still rememberhow annoyed I was with his cocky arrogance. Still am, some days.

Once seated, Caelian orders two double espressos, and once the waitress leaves, I lean forward. “What are we doing here?”

“What? You don't like revisiting the scene of the crime?”

I roll my eyes, but a smile tugs at my lips. “Let’s not speak of your terrible rescue attempts.”

“You call it terrible; I call iteffective.You’re here, aren’t you?”

“I’m still recovering from the trauma of being dragged out of here like a damsel in distress.”

Caelian leans back casually, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “You love it. Admit it. You have a thing for heroic gestures.”

“Is that what you call it? Heroic? I’m pretty sure I was threatening to strangle you the entire time.”

He shrugs, still smiling. “Details. You were secretly swooning.”

“Oh, yeah. Swooning with rage.”

“And now look at you. Sitting here, still stuck with me.”

“Stuck, huh? I was thinking more along the lines of tolerating.”

His eyes gleam with amusement. “Tolerating, swooning—it’s all the same in the end, love. You know you can’t resist me.”

“The things I put up with.”

He reaches for the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulls out an envelope, placing it on the table.

I glance at it, then at him. “What’s that?”

“Open it.”

Suddenly, I’m nervous, as if that envelope is holding something profoundly important to us.

My fingers tremble as I reach for it, and Caelian’s hand comes to rest on top of mine, stilling it. “I hate that I didn’t tell you how I felt about you sooner. That I wasted so much time fighting it, fighting this living, breathing thing between us.”

I swallow, my throat thick.

“We both know I’m a big, tough guy, and love? It’s horrible, New York. Terrifying and inconvenient. A bloody nuisance.”

I can’t help but smile because this is a typical Caelian declaration of love somewhere hidden between all the wrong words.

He lets go of my hand. “Okay, I’m done.”

I frown, starting to peel at the edges of the envelope.

“You’re worth it,” he interrupts. “Just to be clear.” There’s a nervous energy to him, and it’s making me…well, nervous.

I pry open the envelope to reveal…

“Divorce papers?” My heart stutters, a sudden chill washing over me. “Signed? Caelian, what is this?”

“Freedom,” he replies simply, and I can hardly breathe, like the air has been sucked out of the space around us.

“Caelian, I…” I can’t find words. Everything’s been great between us the last few weeks. I've officially made the transition into his room, melding our two wardrobes for a shared space that feels uniquely ours. “Divorce?”

“You’ve been denied the freedom to make your own decisions your entire life.” His voice is steady, but there’s a flicker of emotion underneath.

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