Page 80 of Claiming Genevieve

He shakes his head, his green eyes opening fully as they meet mine. “I’d get shot a dozen times over, lass, if it meant spending even a single one of the days that I had with you.”

“Rowan.” I breathe his name, my heart clenching in my chest. “God, Rowan—I love you.” The words spill from my lips, unable to be held back any longer. “I should have said it before. I should have said it when we were on the island. I should have done all of it differently…I’m so sorry. But I love you, and I want—” I swallow hard. “I don’t want a contract. I don’t want to leave when this is over. I want to be your wife. I want to have our baby… and I want to love you, if you still love me.” Tears spill over my lashes again, and I blink them away, clinging to his hand. “Because I know you did, even if you didn’t say it. But I don’t want what we had. I want something real.”

A smile curves the edges of Rowan’s lips, and his thumb brushes over my knuckles, my hand held firmly in his.

“Well then, lass,” he says slowly. “I imagine you’ll just have to marry me all over again, then.”

—

The morningof our second wedding day dawns just as beautiful and sunny as the first one. I decided to wear the same dress that I wore for our first wedding—there’s nothing I could have found that would be as perfect as the one I bought the first time around. But this time, I’ll get to wear it for a wedding that we both want. For vows that we mean to keep.

Rowan and I spun this second wedding as wanting to renew our vows after he nearly died. Only he and I know the truth—that the first wedding was never meant to last, and that this one is until death do us part.

And it nearly did.

It took two months for Rowan to recover from the gunshot. I took care of him as fervently as he’d taken care of me after my accident, and I know he appreciated it, even if he was a grumpy patient at times. But all of that is forgotten as the church doors open, and I see Rowan waiting at the altar for me, in the same suit that he wore for our first wedding, too.

This time, I’m not on crutches. This time, I have the kind of bouquet I would have chosen the first time, an overflowing waterfall of white and pink and yellow flowers, filling the air with a sweet floral scent as I glide down the aisle towards my husband.

I hand the bouquet off to Dahlia, who gamely agreed to be a bridesmaid for a second time, and turn to face Rowan, who is looking at me as if he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

“I love you,” he murmurs, taking my hands, and I wrap my fingers around his, squeezing gently.

“I love you, too,” I whisper in return.

We repeat the same vows that we did the first time—only this time, we mean them. This time, we plan to keep them, forever. But just after Rowan repeats, “Till death do us part,” his hands tighten around mine, and he looks into my eyes. “And I’d come back from the edge of death to find you,taibhseach. Every time.”

Tears well in my eyes. I repeat my vows, my voice trembling. “Till death do us part,” I say softly, my gaze locked with his. “Not that I’d let it take you, anyway.”

When Rowan slides a second diamond band onto the other side of my ring, when he pulls me in for a searing kiss that causes everyone in the church to erupt in spontaneous applause, I know that no matter what has happened before, this is the future I was always meant to have.

Rowan is my heart and my home.

Forever.

EPILOGUE

GENEVIEVE

One year later

“You knowI’m not a fan of surprises,” I grumble as Rowan leads me out to the waiting Aston Martin, a gleam of mischief in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. “I just put Marceline down for her nap, and the nanny?—”

“Has barely been putting in any hours at all, thanks to what an attentive mother you are,” Rowan says, opening the door to the car. “You’re amazing at it,taibhseach. But now you deserve something special. And I’ve been waiting to give this to you.”

“You could just tell me what it is.” I slide into the car, narrowing my eyes at Rowan. He’s acting like a kid in a candy store, and the practical side of me has always been overwhelmed with anxiety at secrets and surprises. But like so much else in our life, Rowan is determined to bring out a different side of me—the spontaneous, fun-loving side that he manages to unearth every now and then.

It’s hard to leave our four-month-old daughter even for a little while. I adored her from the moment she came into the world, screaming loudly about anything and everything, and I’ve adored every moment with her since. Rowan’s right—despite the fact that we have a part-time nanny, I hardly ever make use of her. We’ve only been out on a few date nights since Marceline was born, and as much as Rowan loves spending time with our daughter, too, I know he’s been itching for time with me.

The last year has been a whirlwind. Rowan’s father passed a few months after Rowan got out of the hospital, and the two of us moved into the Gallagher mansion not long before Marceline was born. Everything has been an adjustment—from learning how to be a real couple together to navigating new parenthood and Rowan’s new position as leader of the Irish mafia—but we’ve gotten through it together. And I’ve never doubted, in any moment, that Rowan loves me, or that I love him.

There’s not a single clue that I can pick out about what the surprise might be as Rowan drives us into the city. Finally, he parks in front of a large black-and-glass building downtown and comes around to open my door. When I step out, I narrow my eyes at the building, and then at him, confused.

“What is this?”

“Just follow me, lass,” he says with a wink, and takes my hand.

I purse my lips, but I follow, with no other option for figuring out what’s going on.

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