Page 120 of Second Chance Romance
“Gonna write back?” he asked neutrally.
She hesitated. “I’m not sure yet.”
“You do, great.” He lifted a shoulder. “You don’t, it’s his loss. Not yours.”
She nodded in acknowledgment. “I agree. Either way, it’ll be fine.”
When she didn’t say more, he let the topic drop. Hand in hand, they kept walking until they’d reached the outskirts of Historic Harlot’s Bay. Near the living museum’s main ticket office, though, she slowed almost to a stop.
“Molly?” He studied her round, pretty face. “Everything okay?”
“I just realized...” She swept her left arm. “I know almost everyone on these streets. I know who lives in these houses. I’ve bought things at all these local stores. I’ve never, ever been this familiar with any place I’ve ever lived. Even Los Angeles.”
Since she didn’t sound upset about that, he relaxed. “Smaller town. Three years here as a kid, ten years as an adult. Makes sense.”
“Yeah. It does. But...” When she halted entirely, he did too. “Here’s the thing, Karl. I know this place inside and out, and I love it here. I truly do. And I love our circle of friends. But without you, even that wouldn’t be enough to make Harlot’s Bay my home.”
Her lips trembled slightly. Which was alarming as hell, because Molly didn’t cry. Not if he could damn well help it.
“Hold up, baby.” He cupped her cheek with his free hand. “What—”
“Without you...” Her fingers tightened on his, even as she talked over him. “Without you, I wouldn’t have a home, no matter where I went or how long I stayed. Without you, Ididn’thave a home. Even when I was living in my grandparents’ house. Even after twenty years in Los Angeles. You gave that to me, Karl. You’regivingit to me, every day we’re together.”
Shit, now he was getting blurry-eyed too. “Every day for the rest of our lives, Molly. Swear it on my fucking grave.”
“Not necessary.” She shook her head. “I believe you. What you tell me, I always believe.”
That simple statement somehow made him feel like an all-powerful god, even as it weakened his stupid aging knees. In fervent gratitude for everything she was, he pressed a kiss to her temple, where she’d gotten a few silver hairs lately.
“Anyway, my point is that you’re my home, Karl. Just you. I should have thanked you for that before, but at least I’m doing it now.” Her mouth quirked. “And I know it’s not what you meant, but—knowing you, yes, you willdefinitelyswear on your grave. At least onefuck, and maybe ashitor two. Your headstone will need to be freakingredacted.”
He laughed. Knuckled away the wetness escaping under his sunglasses’ frames.
“I love you.” She got up on tiptoe to claim one more quick kiss. “So much.”
His wife calmly started walking again. As if she hadn’t just knocked his world out from under him in the most gorgeous way possible, for the billionth time in the last decade.
Her hair gleamed copper and silver. Her lips were soft with her smile and his kisses.
Looking at her was like staring at a goddamn supernova. Even with his shades on.
Using their entwined hands to hitch her closer, he told her, “Love you more.”
Then, hip to hip, they walked to see the flowers waiting for them in the autumn sun.
