Page 67 of Borrowed Bride

I lift the covers and glance down my body to see several stitches and patches of gauze littering my torso and left leg. Seeing my ribs alerts me suddenly to the throbbing ache thatrises each time I breathe in, and doing that alerts me to the burning need to piss.

“Fuck,” I grunt, bringing one hand to rub at my eyes. Soft bandages greet my fingertips around my head, and when I sit up fully, I glimpse my reflection in the mirror next to the door.

I look rough.

Tired.

My hair is sticking up at all angles and the bandage around my forehead is the cleanest thing in this room.

Wait a second…why the fuck am I not in a hospital?

That thought spurs me upward and I heave my aching body out of bed. Clad only in black boxers, I shuffle toward the door and my sluggish mind slowly plans some kind of escape. Maybe I can open the door and rush whoever is outside.

They’ll either kill me or I’ll get away.

Assuming I can do anything with a body that throbs like a skinned knee. Grasping the handle, I wrench open the door and freeze.

On the other side stands a woman holding some blue linen and her hand is poised toward the handle as if she was about to enter.

Her eyes widen and her lips part as we stare at each other, and for the first time in five years, the breath I take seems to fully reach my lungs.

“Gianna?”

I can barely get her name out. It feels forbidden to say, and even more forbidden to taste but it’s true. Gianna stands in front of me and the world screeches to a halt.

My heart breaks.

She looks exactly like I remember. Sure, there are a few more laughter lines around her eyes, and she looks worried and stressed, but it’s her. It’s definitely her.

I don’t understand.

“Marco,” she says, and hearing my name in her voice kills me. I break down as a sudden, overpowering wave of emotion crashes over me. Tears fall, my chest cracks like my heart is fighting to break free, and I sag forward with a wet gasp.

“How?” I croak as I take her in my arms. “How is this possible? How are youhere?” I’ve never sobbed in my life, but in this moment it’s all I can do.

She cups my face, letting my tears run over her thumbs and then she very gently kisses my lips.

“It’s okay,” she says softly. “I’m right here, Marco. I’m alive.”

27

GIANNA

Iknow we should talk.

But seeing him again after so long is surreal. I feel like I’ve stepped into a dream seeing his face, awake and alert for the first time in four days. Fawn wasn’t kidding when she said she was going to hijack the ambulances and she took me along, convinced that only my presence would prevent Marco from going insane and killing her.

It turned out he was far too injured to care about that for the moment, and all I had to do was soothe him in the ambulance until he and Leo were brought here and tended to by some of the other women Fawn had gathered over the years.

Watching them all work together reminded me of years ago when Cherry, Mango, and I were against the world.

Things change a lot, and yet not that much.

Marco breaks down in my arms, and his sobs rip my heart wide open. I have nothing but my presence to soothe him through his pain, knowing I share a similar ache in my own heart.

The ache of loss and grief and the shock of barely daring to believe what you see in front of you—that person you love andhave loved dearly is back with you. After so long, I didn’t expect the surge of love to be so intense, with so many years in the ocean between us.

But it’s there, pulling me in with the tide like we were always fated to be together. No matter what, it’s him and I.

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