Page 219 of Severed Heart
I flash her a grin. “I know.”
“You blocked me?”
“Oui,” I spout.
“So, we’re camping here?”
“No, we’re finishing this conversation here,” I state and turn to her. “I have something to say, but I’m not saying it fast.”
“Oh, no”—she licks her lips—“okay. Tell me.”
“The reason I’m not showing you my pain is because I decided the day I found out not to mourn you until you’re gone. Not to let your illness steal our happiness and peace. I don’t know how long I can make it last, but I want to try to hold onto it for as long as possible.”
“I agree, Soldier. I agree.”
“I was hoping you would, but it’s not my decision. We can do this any way you want.”
“I want it exactly the way you decided. It’s perfect”—she nods for emphasis—“it’s the perfect strategy.”
“Okay, and one more thing.” I swallow. “I know how much you love me, Delphine. I feel it and always have. Even when you fought so hard to conceal it, I felt it.” She nods, eyes watering. “Believe me, I know, okay?”
I can see the relief in her eyes as she scours the grounds, and the night noise surrounds us.
“But if you want to suck my cockexactly likeyou did this morning everydayto prove your love, I will not object to any effort—” She slaps at my chest cutting me short, and we both laugh before I shrug. “You wantedbrash.”
“Ha-ha.” She rolls her eyes. “Now, take me to camp,” she sighs, and I feel the weight of the conversation start to leave us, even as the ache lingers. When I hit the gas, she clamps my arm. “Last thing,” she says, and I sigh and stomp the brakes, knowing I wasn’t going to get away with ending the discussion so easily.
“Please don’t mourn me. Please let me go when the time comes. I want you to live a full life. You are too young to limit yourself so much. Let me be and remain your first love, Tyler, not your only. Promise me.”
“I can’t promise that.” I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
She stares at me for a long beat. “Fine, imbecile, but if you can’t promise me, then you have to give me one last wish.”
“Anything you want,” I swear.
“Anything?” she prompts.
“Anything,” I repeat with a nod.
“Hmm, then”—she sits back in her seat—“I’ll let you know.”
“I may have granted that too easily, and now I’m scared,” I chuckle, “are we done?”
“Yes... no, Ezekiel,” she whispers.
“I’ve got him,” I assure, “well, as much asanyone canhave him.” I shake my head with a grin.
“I know.” She nods. “I know, Soldier... and”—she glances down at her ring—“I want you to know I would have planned the most ridiculous wedding for a forty-one-year-old kissing tramp,” she laughs. The vision of her blowing out her candles not even a week ago re-stoking the relentless ache. “I would have embarrassed you, Soldier.”
“Do it,” I dare. “Embarrass me.”
“No, that’s a gift I’m giving to your future wife.”
“Stop,” I grit out, “there is no after you.”
“Oh, but there is,” she assures with a smile, “have faith, my Soldier.” She palms my jaw. “Have faith.”
Deciding the conversation is pointless and futile, I pull her reassuring hand from my jaw, kissing it before tethering our fingers and holding them in my lap. Pressing the gas, I steer us around a winding corner of clustered evergreens before pulling to a stop at the foot of the field. Thankful when I see the moon doing my bidding as it casts a surreal glow over the endless acres of wildflowers.
