Page 70 of His Gift
A strand of black hair catches my eye in my peripheral vision, and I turn my head, drawn by something I can't even name. A woman disappears inside a coffee shop, her luscious black hair whipped by the steadily rising wind.
Curious, I follow. The coffee shop is stifling, hot. People crowd me, bumping into me. I don't care.
There she is. Searching her purse, nose scrunched, biting her lower lip. Annoyed. Tired. And the only person I see in this overwhelming crowd.
My hand rises to my chest. What the hell is this? This ache, this... feeling.
She finally reaches the counter, orders, picks up her breakfast, and leaves.
I'm right behind her, my breath short. My mind's a whirlwind, my chest too tight, my heart pounding.
The dream fades, leaving me gasping in the darkness of our bedroom. My heart is still hammering against my ribs, just as it did that day. I clench my fists, the phantom ache in my chest a reminder of the moment my life fractured, splintered, and then meticulously rebuilt around her.
Harper stirs beside me as she snuggles closer. I tighten my arm around her, burying my face in her hair, inhaling her scent—home. She feels so real, so safe, so here. And yet, the fear, the primal terror that I might havelost her, or that she might have never been found, still makes my blood run cold.
It’s been a long time since that first sighting, since I decided she was mine before I even knew her name. Since I followed her, learned what I thought was everything I needed and brought her to my house, convinced I was doing the right thing.
And every single day, the fear of losing her is a constant companion. It’s the price. The price for this perfect, impossible happiness.
I pull back just enough to look at her; her face soft in her sleep, a faint smile playing on her lips. She chose me. She loves me. She’s finally truly mine in a way I could only dream of that first day, chasing her through the chaotic streets of New York.
The nightmares, the memories, they still come. The fear is always there, a dull throb beneath my skin. But so is she. Always her. My hand reaches out, tracing the curve of her jaw, feeling the warmth of her skin. She is the anchor in my storm, the feeling in my void. And I will spend every single day of my life ensuring she remains both. Forever.
I kiss her forehead, then, I close my eyes, pulling her impossibly closer. This is my silence. This is my peace. And she is here. Always. My wife. My gift.
"Are you ready? Guests are coming in less than an hour!" Harper's voice pulls me from my fantasizing, from the memories that have followed me since tonight's dream.
Harper zips from one end of the house to the other, buzzing with excitement, rechecking everything we've already meticulously confirmed. She's happy.
And she gave me the wedding I'd hoped for: just us. Blessed be Santa Barbara County for the confidential marriage license. She had needed nothing elaborate. Just white lace on sun-kissed skin, and she'd taken my breath away.
We still didn't have our honeymoon. Harper was too busy badgering her colleague until he took Marcus's case and got him set free. And then another case came up, reclaiming her time.
Marcus will be one of our guests today, with his daughter. I have mixed feelings about it.
In truth, I have mixed feelings about this entire wedding party, but Harper wanted it, and she's going to get whatever she wants from me.
"I am ready. As is the house. And the beach. And the food. Stop, breathe. Come here."
I open my arms, and she practically barrels into them.
"Is it going to be too hard for you?" she murmurs.
"No, my gift. You've made a lot of friends, and I want them to celebrate our wedding." A lie, but for a good cause. "Now go get ready. I'll hold down the fort and I promise I'll welcome the guests if they come sooner than expected."
"Even Marcus?"
"Yes, even him. I'm so proud of what you did—turning a bad day into a victory for yourself and your client. Even though it was your colleague to seal the deal, it's you who found all the talking points to shame the DA into giving up on Marcus and pressing the cops to find the real culprit. I tell you every day: you are perfect."
She smiles, pecks my cheek, and disappears into our room. I have to stop myself from following. Problem is what I said was true: everything is ready. I wanted to hire a catering service, but my gift was adamant about wanting to prepare everything by ourselves. And even though I thought it wasn't possible, we did it. The house is ready for the invasion and I'm not allowed to close the invaders out the door.
I can do it. I just have to think about the day she said yes. Our lunch together, eating tacos because… they are my wife's favorite. The long hours of making love. Her body…
Nope. Not a good idea. If I want to keep a shred of control, I can't think about Harper's body. Rubbing a hand on my face I head for the beach and the grill. It's a little too soon, but I need to get busy. And forget what's coming.
fifty-five
Epilogue
