Page 118 of Wistful Whispers
“Of course.” He sighs happily. “If it helps us get a head start on a future we both want, I’m all in.”
I turn my face into his arm. Breathe him in. His scent. His promise. His everything. “You mean it?”
“With all of my heart.”
We sit there in the quiet for a while. Then, he speaks again, a little rougher. “There’s something else I’ve been thinking about.”
“What?” I twist enough to glance at him over my shoulder.
His eyes meet mine. “Going public.”
“But, Caldwell…” My heart skips. “Are you sure?”
He nods. “We have ceasefire. I’m tired of pretending I’m not in love with you.”
I can’t speak. This is huge.
“I want people to know who you are to me,” he says. “Marcella Delgado. My girlfriend. My partner. The woman I love. Who stood by me when it would’ve been easier to walk away.”
His expression is open, earnest. No fear. No regret.
“I’d like that.” I press my lips to his. “I’d really like that.”
His mouth brushes mine, gentle and firm. “Good. Because I’m done hiding.”
“So am I.” My fingers slide through his hair as I pull him closer.
His voice drops to a hush. “We’re going to figure this out. All of it. You and me.”
“I know,” I whisper back. “We already are.”
We sit for a while longer, curled up together. Eventually, he moves me off his lap and stands. “Come to bed with me.”
I follow him into the bedroom, shedding clothes like old skin, the last of the day slipping off my shoulders. He lifts the covers and I slide in, back to his front, his chest pressed warm against my spine like the most natural thing in the world. The way we fall asleep every single night.
His arm wraps around my waist. A sigh against my neck. “I love you.”
It’s not a declaration anymore. It’s a heartbeat. I thread my fingers through his, settling our joined hands against my stomach. “I love you too.”
He kisses the back of my shoulder, then my neck, then rests there—breathing me in like I’m oxygen.
No vows. No fireworks.
Only the soft weight of his arm, the press of his chest, the warmth of his body.
Love isn’t loud in this room.
It’s steady.
It’s ours.
thirty-six
Seamus
Six Months Later
It’sfuckingcold.
