Page 98 of Shattered Dreams

CHAPTER TWENTY

Gage

That isn’t the hardest thing I need to say. The ring burning a hole in my pocket requires words to be said that will be even harder to force past my lips.

She nods, her big brown eyes round, her pupils dilated. She still wants me, and it hits me like a shot of tequila. I’m giddy and relieved. She still wants me the way she used to. Doesn’t look at me like I’m a greasy mechanic who’s supposed to be fixing her car. I know that hangup is mine, and it’s part of the reason we can’t get carried away now.

I set her on my kitchen counter so we’re eye to eye. “God, you’re beautiful,” I whisper, brushing a strand of hair off her cheek.

She holds my hand and kisses my palm, leaving a light smear of lipstick. “I always want you to think so. What do we need to talk about? I know we have a lot to say to each other, but—”

“Are you pregnant, Zarah?” It’s been bothering me, the not knowing.

She draws in a breath and lets it out slowly, pushing a hand to her belly. “No. Jerricka gave me a test at her lake house, and at the bed and breakfast I asked for another, just to be sure, then I got my period and that was that.”

“Okay. I didn’t know, and . . . okay. Zarah—”

“Don’t say you don’t love me anymore,” she says, tears filling her eyes. One drips down her cheek. “I won’t believe you. I won’t.”

“What are you doing here? What do you want?” I ask, resting my forehead against hers. I sound miserable.

She presses her hands against the sides of my face, her breath floating lightly across my skin. “You. All I want is you.”

“I’m not enough, not for you. I watched you at that press conference, and the reporters were eating out of your hand. You’re gonna rule the world, baby. You don’t need me.”

“Gage, no.” She sobs into my shirt, her shoulders shaking. I hold her close, seven years of pain dampening my chest. “I can’t—” she cries. “You can’t—” Gripping my shirt in her fists, she keens into the cotton.

I tangle my fingers in her hair and rub her back. I hoped I would be there when this happened. I bet she hasn’t cried once since Zane brought her to that bed and breakfast. So strong, my little girl, but she knows around me, she doesn’t have to be. “You’re right. I can’t,” I murmur, my lips pressed to the top of her head.

Seconds turn into minutes, and minutes turn into, I’m not sure how long I hold her, how long she cries, but I give her all the time she needs, just like I always have. The apprehension I felt when she walked into my apartment is gone. I was afraid she would be different, afraid she wouldn’t be the woman I love, but she is, and my heart calms.

She leans away, her eyes bloodshot, tears saturating her cheeks. “The past—”

I don’t know why she’s bringing it up now, and I frown. “Hasn’t changed, and it still doesn’t matter. I love you, Zarah, and I always will.”

“Thank God,” she whispers. “I love you, too. So much. I was afraid...”

“We both were, baby. We both were.” I kiss her, those salty promises laying on her lips that were never broken. I reach for the hand towel hanging off the oven’s handle and dry her cheeks. “You’re sure about this?” I ask, because I have to be sure she is. She was right—I can’t live without her and it’s better we figure this out now.

“I’m sure. Do you know how I am?”

Because she can feel it in her heart like I do, but I shake my head, wanting her to continue. Words don’t mean anything without the actions behind them, that’s something you learn over and over again, but sometimes there’s a place for words and I want to hear what she has to say.

“When we were together,” she starts, sounding like the confident young woman she was at the press conference, “you never asked me to give you anything. You never asked me for a nicer place to live. Never asked me to pay off your dad’s house or buy him a new vehicle. You didn’t want anything but my time, to be with me. I was always afraid I wasn’t going to be enough, just by myself. Without my money. With as confused as I was, with as insecure as I was about you leaving me, I would have given you millions to stay, if you had asked. But you never did. It never occurred to you to take advantage of me that way. A lot of my memories were gone, men had used my body and broken my spirit—”

I wince.

“—and none of that mattered. You loved me for who I was when we were together. I’m still that same woman. I’m the same woman who fell in love with you over coffee, and you’re thatsame man who fell in love with me under the stars in the woods. You’re the man I love, and you’re the man who loves me back. Nothing has changed, but everything is different. I know that, and I know we’ll need time. But for once, I’m looking forward to the future, and it’s been a very long time since I could say that.”

I blow out a breath. It’s what I wanted her to say and what I needed to hear. Not so much the money—it was never about the money, not to me—but that she recognizes I loved her for who she was and that I love the woman she is now, sitting on my counter. “I have only ever loved you, Zarah. Your strength and bravery, the way you love your family and protect them at all costs. I admire you, respect you, and I feel damned lucky you’re here.” I pause and brush my fingers over her jaw. “These two weeks have been pretty fucking sad.”

“Yeah, they have. I missed you, Gage. So much. Even when I couldn’t remember your name or who you were. There was an emptiness inside me, but as the antidote kicked in and I started regaining my memories, it got worse, not better. The more I remembered the more I missed, and I can’t be without you. Please don’t make me.” More tears drip down her cheeks.

Rubbing them off her face, I say, “Then I have a question to ask, and if you’re not ready, you have to tell me. It won’t mean we’ll break up—”

Impatiently, she shakes her head. “Just ask me. This is all I want in the whole world and I’m ready to say yes.”

I wiggle the delicate ring out of my pocket. “I had no clue what to propose with. I can’t afford much, and you can buy yourself any kind of ring you want. This one is special, it belonged to my grandma. I didn’t want to give you the ring my dad gave my mom. Their marriage was broken, and I didn’t think you’d want to wear something of hers when Rourke caused you so much pain. But my grandma and grandpa, my dad’s mom and dad, they were married for over fifty years and passed awaya week apart. I’m pushing forty so I don’t think I can last that long, but I’m willing to give it a shot. Zarah, I love you so much, tell me you’ll marry me.”

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