Page 120 of Gilded Saint

“Can you believe he got married?” Sage grins, taking me in with a warm, glowing gaze. “We’re married, too,” she says, gesturing to Knox.

“I am aware. I sent you an anonymous wedding gift.”

“The yellow Kitchen Aid blender?”

“I remembered you loved Mom’s.”

“I had a feeling.” She rubs her belly, looking up at him, eyes full of wonder. “You’ve been watching over us.”

“As much as I could,” he admits. Then, almost apologetically, he adds, “Officially, though, I was in a hospital in Syria with amnesia, but it’s probably best we share that story as little as possible.”

Sage nods slowly. “I don’t need to know details. I’m so happy you’re back.” She swipes at her tears with a soft laugh before her attention falls back on me. “You are so beautiful. Where did he find you? Where are you from?”

Sam and Knox exchange a glance, and Knox says, “Why don’t we go inside and they can share what they’ve been allowed to share? It sounds like there’s specific information we need to learn.”

Sage beams as if she didn’t even hear Knox. “I told you he was still alive. I told everyone. They never found your body. I just knew. And this guy…he refused to listen to me.”

Knox grimaces. “This is just what I needed. For her to be proven right. Again.”

“Has she ever been wrong?” Sam asks with a sly grin.

Knox exchanges a loving glance with his wife. “Never.”

“Spoken like a wise man,” Sam says.

It might have been my imagination, but I think a flicker of a smile cropped up on Knox’s face. But a shadow quickly falls.

This is what Sam had been afraid of. That his choices hurt them and forgiveness will be impossible.

Chapter39

Sam

Stepping inside Sage’s home is like stepping into the past. The wide foyer with wood plank flooring and an open view to the back of the house with a cushioned window seat beneath a panoramic window over the mountains is exactly what I remember. The furniture has changed, the walls are a slightly darker blue than before, and the rooms along the hallway aren’t as cluttered.

I’d been in Saudi Arabia when I received the news that hired assassins burned her home. In the same phone call, Jack Sullivan assured me she was safe, and he’d be certain she was taken care of. Based on the layout of the home, which features a wide hallway with rooms on each side and an open living area in the back with a stairwell on the left side, she rebuilt using the same house plans. Photos line the section of the angled wall on the side of the stairs, and I’m drawn to the captured memories.

The photo of our family is tinged brown along the edges, and the way the brown and black hues alternate from light to drenched, it must be from fire, not age. The photo is of me, Sage, Sloane, and our parents. My father’s hand rests on my shoulder, my mom is at his side, and Sloane and Sage stand before us. We’re dressed in our best clothes on Easter Sunday. The photo was taken the year before I met Knox.

Another photo is of my father and me fishing beside a small pond. It’s a candid photo, and you can’t see my father’s face, but he looms beside me, about three times taller than I am, and I’m grinning with a small perch on the hook.

Sage in a wedding dress catches my eye, and I step forward to get a better look at her simple white silk gown and the rosy glow on her cheeks. Knox stands beside her in a tux. The background is blurred, but based on the green hues, they must be outside. They’re looking at each other, and Sage holds a bouquet. I should’ve been there. I should’ve been the best man, and I should’ve walked her down the aisle. My eyes burn unexpectedly. Unexpected because none of this is new to me. I know what I missed out on. The hurt and regret churned for years. I guess I didn’t expect the hurt would intensify upon my return.

I step back from the photo, breathing through the tightness in my chest, and peruse the remaining dozen photos. There’s Sloane and Max, some people I don’t recognize, one of Jimmy, Sage’s friend, on an inner tube holding a beer, and a recent one of Sage and Sloane in front of a Christmas tree. There are no photos of Sage in the hospital, but those were some of my favorite family photos. We had so many printed photos of us playing games, doing crafts, using the end of her bed as a table. It’s not that I miss her being sick, but I miss how connected we were as a family. They weren’t simple times, but looking back, we were all together, and…

I pinch the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut. This isn’t the time to go overboard with sentimental thoughts.

“You okay?” Sage lightly touches my arm, and I snap to it, scanning the hallway.

It’s just me and Sage out here.

“Knox is getting Lily some water.”

Hearing the name Lily is going to take some getting used to. Saying it is still strange. Perhaps we should have kept her first name.

“Do you want anything?”

“No, I’m good.” I pull Sage up to my side. “You were a beautiful bride.” I saw photos of her, but that fact dies on my tongue.

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