Page 6 of The Wishing Game

Yes, I admit that itcouldhappen. Logically, thingsmakesense. But I don't trust logic as much as I trust Nikki, and because of that, I'm certain he wouldnevertake opioids. On top of that, with his family's presence at the reading of the will, my senses are telling me something is definitely off.

How many times had they tried to kill him before? How many times had they tried to get their hands on his money, only to fail?

Experience tells me they are the most likely culprit. Why else would they cremate him so quickly? Why else would they make it all seem his fault?

"They won't get away with this, Nikki," I whisper, the chasm inside my heart deepening even more. "I won't let them."

I won't rest until I get justice for you. And then... Then... I smile, closing my eyes and thinking back to our happy times.

Then we'll be happy again—together.

TWO

One week ago

My palms are clammy, my breathing accelerating with each passing second. The elevator doors open again and Nikki takes my hand, leading me out.

We walk for a couple of minutes before we suddenly stop.

Nikki reaches behind my back to untie my blindfold. I blink a couple of times as I look around. We're in the garage, but I don't know what I'm supposed to look for. I don't drive, and though Nikki has a license, he doesn't drive either.

"I don't get—" I stop as it dawns on me what he's pointing toward.

It's an RV, a really big one by the sight of it. It's almost the size of a truck.

"Is that..." I clear my throat, barely able to form any coherent thoughts. "Is that ours?"

"Remember what you told me a year ago when we moved to New York and you saw a motorhome for the first time?"

I nod absentmindedly. How could I not remember that?

"You said how freeing it would be to live in one of those, not tied to any place but at the same time belonging to all? You said you'd love to travel around and see all the places you'd only seen in movies or read about in books. And when you realized that you might never be able to do that because of my condition, you apologized and said it was just wishful thinking. That it didn't matter where we lived as long as we are together."

"And you remembered." I swallow hard as my heart rate picks up.

"Of course I remember. It was more than wishful thinking, Luce. I could tell how much you wanted it, but you settled for less because of me. That was when I realized I couldn't go on like this. I couldn't..." he trails off, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down in discomfort. "You shouldneversettle for less, sweetheart."

I watch the warring emotions on his face and realize how much thought he put into this. Now it makes sense why he'd suddenly decided to switch therapists and why he'd gone through a few before finding a good fit. He was doing it all for me.

Tears of happiness slide down my cheeks as I look into his dark eyes. The magnitude of his love for me floors me, and not for the first time, I thank the fates for bringing this man into my life.

I first met Nikki when I was sixteen. I was living in a remote area of Mexico that was under the control of Sergio Villanueva—a self-proclaimed god who dabbled in various illegal avenues. I'd been given to him as tribute when I was thirteen, and because I rebelled against what that entailed, I was sent to waste away working in tunnels of his temple—a grand, ostentatious display of Sergio's wealth and his divine providence. It was in the darkness of that tunnel that I met Nikki, the only flicker of light in my hopeless life.

I knew right away that he didn't belong there, and I did my best to help him escape, never thinking he would actually come back for me. Yet he did. A little over two years later, he showed up for me—to saveme. And the only reason why he'd taken so long had been because he'd been in an accident that had put him in a coma for two years.

Nikki, or by his full name Nicholas Archibald, had been born to unimaginable riches. His family owned almost half the United States, and he was the heir of a dynasty. But with so much power comes so much danger. He survived seeing his parents brutally murdered in front of him at the age of ten, five successful kidnappings, and over sixteen attempts on his life, including one that resulted in brain damage that put him into a coma and a shooting gone wrong that gave him a permanent limp for which he requires a cane to this day. But despite still being alive, some scars can never heal.

A few years back, he was formally diagnosed with PTSD, social anxiety, and agoraphobia. And while the meds he was on did their job for a while, after he got shot in the knee during our honeymoon, his anxiety skyrocketed to the extent that he barely left our home anymore.

We lived in Texas for a while, in a home with security features specifically designed for his paranoid mind. But after I reconnected with an old friend, he made the effort to move with me to New York so I could be near her. Still, it hasn't been easy on him, and although we go out once every couple of months or so, it usually causes him great distress. So to hear that he’s made such strides in his mental health journey makes me overflow with hope. I can't stop myself from crying, tears of joy spilling down my cheeks.

"You're so brave, Nikki." I smile as I take a step forward.

Molding my palm to his cheek, I stroke him lightly, all the while not taking my gaze off his. He swallows hard, and in his eyes, I see mirrored all the pain and struggles he's had to overcome to get to this point.

"You deserve nothing less," he replies in a low voice. Clearing his throat, he grabs my hand, laying a sweet kiss on the inside of my wrist before he invites me to check out the inside of the RV.

My cheeks heat as I realize I've already forgotten about the RV.

---