Chapter Two
Fable
Sometimes, when I least expect it, I’m overcome with gratitude. How thankful I am that this beautiful, gentle, sexy man walked into my life so unexpectedly. It still feels like yesterday that I found him waiting outside for me at La Salle’s, the wind cold, his expression desperate. I hated him on sight. I didn’t care if he was tall and broad and gorgeous. He just wanted to use me.
They all wanted to use me. And like the hopeless girl that I was, I let them.
When Drew asked me to be his fake girlfriend, I was so sure he was like the rest of them. Using me just for his own gain. I also thought he was insane. I told him no. Somehow, I let him buy me anyway. I can still feel shame over that, though it’s stupid. He loves me. I know he does. I can’t get enough of him and he can’t seem to get enough of me.
During that horrible, scary, exhilarating, life-changing week, I forced him to open up to me and I probably shouldn’t have done that …
But I did. I don’t regret it, either. I found out things I suspected but didn’t want to realize. He was so closed off, such a mystery to me. I had to know, though. I had to find out what bothered him. I knew something was suspicious between him and his stepmother, and when she dropped that bomb that his dead sister may have been his daughter …
Well. I was too far in by that moment. I’d slept with him. I was falling in love with him. For once in my life, I wanted to be all in with a guy. I wanted to be there for him, and I was.
Then he left. And nearly broke me.
We came together, he ran away, and then we faced our fears. Together. When you struggle for something so good, so right, you cherish it more. You hold it close, nurture it, protect it, make sure you never, ever let your guard down. That’s how I feel about my almost husband.
For Drew and me, it’s always been about the together. No matter what, it’s me and him.
Forever.
The sun melts into the Pacific, casting its gold-tinged-with-pink glow upon the shimmering deep-blue water. Clouds gather, gray and blue backlit with orange, a dazzling sunset the likes of which I’ve never seen. It’s beautiful. I want to stare at it, get lost in all the colors and textures and scents and sounds, but I can’t. I’m kinda busy right now.
As in, the minister is saying words of love and devotion and marriage and my hands are in Drew’s. He’s watching me, that secret smile on his face, his too blue eyes filled with so much love for me I want to cry.
I hold it in, though, because I’m tough. We’ve had plenty of moments in our lives, both together and apart, to cry over and this is definitely not one of them. We’re supposed to be happy. No tears allowed, right? Drew squeezes my hands, as if he knows I’m thinking about crying and trying my hardest not to, and I offer him a tremulous smile.
We’re alone on Makena Beach on the south side of the island, our only witness the wife of the man officiating our wedding ceremony. Drew’s face is cast in a rosy golden hue; his dark brown hair flutters across his forehead, ruffled by the gentle breeze that washes over us. He’s wearing khaki pants that he’s rolled up a couple of times and a white button-down shirt, and his feet are bare. Looking casual and beautiful and so painfully handsome, I swear just looking at him makes my eyes hurt.
The waves crash gently on the shore. There’s sand in my toes and the hem of my long, white strapless dress is damp, we’re standing so close to the water’s edge.
But I don’t care. I’m too caught up in this moment, too caught up in this man standing before me. Drew repeats the vows the minister says and I press my lips together as I listen to his familiar, deep voice, my vision blurred by tears. I can’t stop them. When it’s my turn to repeat those same sacred vows, my voice wavers, the words thick in my throat, and I see the shimmer of tears in Drew’s eyes, too.
Oh God, we’re a couple of total saps, but I don’t care. We’re in love, damn it. We’ve fought too hard and struggled for too long and we’re reveling in the moment. If we want to cry over our sacred vows to each other, over this, the most important day of our lives, then it’s our prerogative.
Drew’s intense gaze never leaves me as he entwines his fingers tightly with mine, just as tightly entwined as our hearts are. I can’t believe this moment is finally happening. We make promises of love and devotion, both with our words and our hearts and minds. When prompted, I whisper “I do” in my still wavering voice, and Drew smiles at me, squeezing my hands. The two of us, we’re destiny. Fate. Kismet. Whatever you want to call it.
The smile that breaks out across his face when I say those two words steals my breath. My heart. My soul. All of me irrevocably now belongs to him. He slips a band on my finger, the diamonds that surround it so big that I audibly gasp. I hadn’t expected this and I send him a questioning look, but he only smirks at me in return.
My man is constantly full of surprises.
“I love you,” he whispers. “I didn’t want you to ever forget it.”
“With diamonds this big, I never will,” I whisper back, making the minister laugh.
Minutes later, when Drew whispers those same two words that mean he now belongs to me, I slide the platinum band I picked out for him a few days ago onto his ring finger, solidifying our relationship. My heart fills to bursting.
It’s a moment I’ll never forget. Etched into my memory for all time. The sunset, the beach, the look in my husband’s eyes, the way he said he loved me.