Page 172 of The Sinner's Sanctuary

“I remember how scared I was Fischer was gonna try to talk you out of it.”

I laugh. “He was pushing me down the aisle. Seriously. What do you remember?”

“I am being serious. I was terrified I’d be standing there in front of all those people, and you’d call it off. There was a part of me that thought—he couldn’t possibly want to do this again. Honestly, everything after I saw your face was a blur.”

“Had I given you some reason to doubt?” I ask.

“No, of course not. But I don’t know that I could have gone through what you went through and ever want to willingly put myself in that position again.”

“What can I say? I’m an optimist.”

“Don’t minimize.”

“What do you want me to say?” I ask.

“That you were as scared as I was.”

“I was,” I say honestly. “Not that you wouldn’t be there because Matty texted me every five minutes to tell me you were, but that I’d rushed you into it or hadn’t stopped to consider whether it was what you really wanted.”

“That you somehow dominated me into marrying you?”

“Something like that.”

“I like doing what you want,” he reminds me with a small, sexy smile.

“I love being what you need.” I lean in, slowing our steps and caressing his cheek with the hand that was on his waist. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I think in all this life that keeps churning along we get these little moments—like this one—that shine as bright as the fifteen stars we can see from this city. But love is like the galaxy holding them all together. Like you can’t always see it, but you know it’s there. And it goes on forever.”

He’s never quite as articulate as the poetry he writes, but that was damn close. And I know exactly what he means. “In case I haven’t told you lately, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

The song comes to an end, and he presses his lips to mine. “I’ll let you know if I ever get sick of hearing it, but spoiler alert: it won’t be anytime soon.”

EPILOGUE

CHRISTIAN

Trinity Meyers loved four things most of all. God, Taylor Swift, The Twilight Saga, and me.

It’s snowing on the beach.

Gibson and I are skin to skin, wrapped in an extra-large sleeping bag with beanies covering our heads as the soft flakes melt on our warm faces. The occasional beam of moonlight peeking through the low layer of clouds makes what would have been magical any minute of any day miraculous.

“You think the fire’s gonna go out?” he asks.

“How would I know? I’m surprised I managed to get it going in the first place.”

“Good thing you’ve got other ways to keep me warm.”

I rub my hand in circles over the firm curve of his ass cheek. “We could always go back to the cabin.”

“No, this is beautiful. I can’t believe it’s happening. Exactly what you wanted.”

“I keep getting lucky like that,” I say hardening against his abs. “But I feel a little bad for forcing you someplace cold in February.”

“It’s just gonna make us appreciate Hawaii that much more.”

“You don’t seem like you’re hating it,” I say, noting his own erection against my hip.

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