That’s what startles me the most about our life here. We spend a lot of time apart—doing our own things, reuniting in the afternoons—and yet our love has only deepened. I always thought the definition of true love was spending every waking hour together, but now I know our separate lives make the time we spend together richer. We’re morphing into the people we’re supposed to be, together and apart. And it’s beautiful.
There is still pain some days. There is still grief. But we’re getting there.
After our leisurely lunch, we rush back to the apartment for a quickie. She has an art show tonight—her first in years—and she has to go to the venue early to set up. I’ll be there in a couple of hours, the proudest boyfriend there ever was, with a bouquet of flowers in my hand.
I decide to walk her to the venue, weaving her through a narrow, deserted alley—a street I discovered only last week. Giggling, she throws her head back after I tell a joke. Her bright teeth and cherry red lips mesmerize me, and she squeezes my hand three times. Our secret code.
I. Love. You.
Watching her laugh, the light shining onto her face… it’s too much. I stop and press her against the stone wall, kissing her tenderly, slowly, like every woman should be kissed. Her laughing stops, and when we break apart, her eyes are glassy and emotional. I took her by surprise.
Good.
“What was that for?” she asks quietly, touching her lips.
I peck her on each cheek, stroking her face and memorizing the way she looks right now. “Do I need a reason?” I answer, equally as quiet, my voice soft. I press my forehead against hers. “I don’t believe in Fate, Nina. I don’t believe that destiny brought us together. We’re bound by something otherworldly, sure.” I stop and pull away, locking my eyes with hers. “I know that because of the way I feel when I’m with you, like the other half of my heart is complete. We’re bound—”
“By two heartstrings,” she interrupts, giving me a warm smile. “My dad once said that to me.” A glimmer of pain passes over her face. “He saw what bound us together. He set you free because he loved you, and he knew you deserved to live, even if it caused me pain. Perhaps…” she bites her lip and looks at me. “Perhaps he always meant for us to find each other again.”
I nod, bending down to kiss her. I press one hand to the the middle of her chest. “Perhaps,” I echo, kissing her softly on the nose. I’ll forever be grateful to Henry Cosway.
“I was so mad at him,” she whispers, a tear sliding down her cheek. “The day he died. He promised me that he would never leave me. I thought he lied, but…” she trails off, placing her hand on top of mine. “He’s been here all along.”
I wipe the tear off of her cheek. “Yes. He has. We owe everything to him.”
Nina nods, sniffling. She pulls me into a deep, passionate kiss.
We stay that way for minutes, hours, days… I’m not sure. People pass, some holler, but I’m content kissing the most beautiful woman in the world for all eternity.
I am home, always and forever.
E P I L O G U E
Nina—One Year Later
Denver, Colorado
“RACH, WHERE IS my garter?” I ask, giggling. This whole production is ridiculous—I already hate weddings and I’m twenty minutes from walking down the aisle to my own.
“It’s with the planner’s assistant,” she murmurs, looking at me from her place in front of the mirror. She’s putting on mascara and her mouth is open in a wide ‘O’. “I think they’re blessing it or some stupid shit.”
Like I said, ridiculous.
But, on the flip side… I get to marry my very best friend today. That nullifies any ill feelings toward the tradition. Today… today I marry Benny Adler.
“Oh my God, there you are,” a soft, wavering voice says, and I spin around to face Rhonda. I gasp as she smiles, donning a light pink, floor length dress and a beautiful matching jacket.
“You look wonderful,” I coo, pulling her into a gentle hug. She’s fragile nowadays, but at ninety-two, she’s still kicking.
“Oh, please. This old thing?” She winks.
Rachel walks over and gently bumps her hip with Rhonda’s hip. “Hey, you look great,” she says loudly, kissing Rhonda on the cheek. “We match.” I smile as Rachel pulls out a phone and takes a selfie. “Bridesmaids,” she gushes, and they walk over to the champagne table. Because of course Rachel had to have a champagne table.
I feel my heart begin to pound as the music starts a few minutes later. I can feel the bass starting outside, on the lawn of my childhood home. I wanted it here—where everything started—as a tribute to us, and more importantly, to my father. I once told myself I’d never come back to the snow. It held too many painful memories. However, it also held my happiest memories—those with Ben. I came back for him—we came back together.
I quickly take in one last glance of myself in the ornate mirror. I kept the dress simple: rough silk, spaghetti straps with a V-neck, form-fitting with a slight flair past my knees. My wavy hair pulled off to one side, and a small crown of flowers sitting atop my head. Rachel did my makeup herself. It’s enough to look bridal, but it doesn’t overpower me. I wipe my palms on my dress as I pick my bouquet up.
My eyes catch the inscription in my closet, the one I forgot I etched so long ago: Nini + Benny 4ever. I honestly don’t even know when I carved it, but when I rented this house from the current owners, I sobbed like a baby upon discovering it, unchanged after all these years. It was a testament to Ben and me.
“I’m ready,” I say to Rachel.
The planner walks into the room, headset intact. “Groom is secured. Bride is on her way. Start the procession.”
I take a deep breath, wishing beyond anything that my dad was here to walk me down the aisle.
You got it. The words he’d said to me that fateful day. Those words carried me to this moment, and as my eyes mist, I know I can do this alone. I’ve got this. He made damn sure I did, and so here I am…
I look up and say a silent prayer to my dad. I’m not religious, but it seems fitting. If he’s watching any day of my life, it’s this day. I hope he can hear me. I hope he’s proud. And lastly… I hope he’s happy that Ben and I found each other again.
The chords of Pachelbel’s Canon start to play, and chills erupt on my skin. I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous.
“Breathe, Nina,” Rachel says, walking ahead of me as we descend the stairs.
“Ben is just as nervous,” Rhonda offers. “If that helps. He’s very dapper in his uniform, by the way.”
I smile. “Thanks. That does help.”
The music becomes louder as we enter the living room, a trail of rose petals leading out the back. Flashbacks flash before my eyes.
Benny and I running through this very living room, squirt guns in hand.
Running into the glass sliding door and scowling as Ben laughed his ass off.
The way he used to hog the blankets when we’d watch movies in here.
I walk outside, Rachel and Rhonda ahead of me with linked arms, and the crowd rises. It’s a small crowd. Less than twenty guests. Only our close friends and family… I keep my head down, because I know if I look at Ben, I’ll start to cry.
Benny and I building a fort on this grass.
Catching insects and how I made Benny put them back because I was too sad to take them away from their families.
I look up, the breath catching in my throat as a sob escapes.
Ben stands at the altar, his eyes watery and adoring. He’s looking at me like he’s the luckiest man on earth. Funny, I feel like the luckiest woman on earth…
He’s wearing his dress uniform. I’d wondered for months where that army t-shirt from the boat came from, the night he kidnapped me. Though he only served in the army for a year before transferring to Black Ops, I know he’s wearing it to honor Sandler—the man who saved us. And to honor my father, who also served.
He moves ever so slightly, and then br
ushes a tear off his cheek. In doing so, he cracks me a smile. I start lose it, the lump in my throat giant.
I look around briefly as I begin my walk down the aisle, trying to keep the tears at bay. Rachel did a spectacular job transforming this ordinary backyard into a magical garden. Faerie lights decorate each tree, and the wooden altar is adorned in masses of flowers. It’s lovely. My eyes move to the right, where the tables are seated. Centerpieces filled with sand (flown in from Isla Culebrita) and candles make up the decorations. I smile at Rachel and Rhonda who are now standing on my side, and then I turn my attention to Ben as I walk up to the altar.
No one to hand me off but myself.
You got this, a voice echoes in my head. I choke back a sob.
Ben watches me with quiet concentration, studying me as if in awe. He shaved his beard two days ago, and has just the right about of scruff. I begged him to keep his hair messy, since I love his wild, flaming hair.
Sandler, who offered to officiate, smiles as he reads off the start of the ceremony. It passes in a blur, and before I know it, I’m reciting my vows and placing a small, gold band on Ben’s finger. My vows are simple, so when he takes the microphone from Sandler and begins to speak, I know his words are going to break me in the best way possible.
Damn. Of course his vows would be amazing. On top of the rest of his talents, writing seems to be a strong suit of his.
He clears his throat, his turquoise eyes piercing into mine. I feel the same familiar thread binding us tighten—my breath escapes me, like it always does when he looks at me like that.
“Nina,” he says, his voice breaking. Oh God. Tears spill onto my cheeks. If he cries, I’m going to cry. I squeeze his hand, urging him to go on silently: our own secret code. He continues. “Nina… I’m not sure what the universe had in store for us. But standing here with you, in this house, on this very grass, I’m reminded of your love: your eternal, unwavering love. The universe chose us, Nina. It chose for us to find each other, and then again in Puerto Rico.” He clears his throat, looking at me with such vulnerability that I sway slightly from the impact of his words. “I don’t believe in reincarnation, but with you, anything is possible. So, I’ll end this with a vow so strong, so ironclad, it’ll carry us into all of our lifetimes ahead. Just in case.” He winks at me, and I half-laugh, half-sob. “May our love be immortal, and may that which binds us never falter.”
Ben takes my hand gently, placing the gold band on my ring finger. Sandler pronounces us husband and wife, and Ben kisses me with such feral ferocity that I blush down to my toes when we pull apart.
And then…
We walk off, hands intertwined tightly, into our glorious future.
T H E
E N D
A C K N O W L E D G M E N T S
First of all, THANK YOU to my readers. I could not have done this without your support, excitement, and general giddiness whenever I posted about this book. It makes me so unbelievably happy when you’re excited about my words—my words! It’s every writer’s dream, and you all make my dream so much brighter. I love you all!
Secondly, thank you to Deanna for your wonderful copy edits. From friend to bridesmaid to editor, you’ve always been there for me, cheering me on. This book is so much better because of you. Thank you for giving it such a thorough read, and for the kind words when I wanted to dump the whole thing into the trash. ;)
Third, Marion Archer… I don’t even know what to say other than your beta read was so thoughtful, so in-depth, and the ideas in this book are so much stronger because of you. As always, your ideas and suggestions enhanced the story ten-fold. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Peter… I LOVE YOU, ALWAYS. Thank you for always encouraging me to continue. True love should inspire, and inspire me you do, every single day. True love should be all-encompassing yet peaceful, and I know that now. True love will last a lifetime and beyond, and I have no doubt we’ll find each other in the next one. (And I’m sorry for the general neglect while I wrote this…)
Stephanie Alba, thank you for beta reading! Your friendship in this industry has been such a blessing and I’m so glad we can text each other Disney gifs and talk about Feysand until the sun comes up. I will forever be grateful that you introduced (and peer-pressured me) into reading ACOTAR. Just saying.
To the bloggers and authors in this industry, THANK YOU for the kind words. Your enthusiasm and nice words propel me when all I want to do is sit in front of my computer and cry.
Finally, to my family, I’m sorry about the dark themes in this book. My imagination has always been very big. Don’t worry mom, I am mentally stable, and by the way, if you’re reading this, it means you read the book and ignored my dedication… Thank you for the support regardless. Love you!
A B O U T T H E A U T H O R
Amanda Richardson is an award-winning travel writer turned indie author living in Los Angeles with her husband and two cats. When she’s not writing or reading (which, let’s be honest, accounts for 95% of her free time), she can be found Googling cheap flights to places she’s never been, talking to her cats, or obsessing over the British Royal Family. Fun fact: her first novel is about the Tudors. One day maybe, after a lot of wine, she might find the courage within her to publish it!
Find out more here:
http://www.amandarichardsonauthor.com/
Facebook.com/amandawritesbooks
Instagram.com/amandawritesbooks
Twitter.com/@amandarwrites
A L S O B Y
A M A N D A R I C H A R D S O N
Contemporary Romance:
And Then You
The Realm of You
Between the Pages
The Year We Met (Coming 2016)
Romantic Suspense:
That Which Binds Us
That Which Binds Us Page 21
