A Long Time Coming

by Heather Van Fleet

  Inching forward, at a speed she could hardly see coming, her face was in his hands. And before she could question his sudden aggression, he closed the distance left between them, consuming her mouth with lips that she would never tire of. Cool, soft, and perfect…home. David was her sanctuary.

  “Mmm, as much as I’d like to christen my back seat with you,” his heavy breath traveled to her cheek, to her ear a second later, “I promised you wooing first. And I’m a man of my word.” Unable to open her eyes, she reached for the neck of his shirt—non–verbally saying screw the woo shit—she was ready for the entire performance.

  “I don’t need wooing…I need you. I need you now.” Damn, she was a slut. But David turned on that switch for her, spiked her libido to overdrive, and made her insane with the simplest words and movements. His mouth on her ear was the biggest trigger point of all.

  His hand slipped between them, reaching into a compartment. And against her wishes, he separated their bodies. Seconds later, a cotton shirt was pulled from the area. “What’s this?” She grinned, staring down at the material, while rubbing the material between her fingertips.

  “A shirt.”

  “For…?”

  “You, of course.” He snapped it and shook it out, only so it would open flat on her lap a minute later. “Go on then…read what it says.”

  Frowning, hating the unknown, she glared down at the lettering. “Holy shit.” Scrambling back in her seat as far as her body would let her, she shook her head and stared back up at him. Was he for real here?

  “Abigail Ann Zane… I’ve loved you since I was six. You are my life, and the only woman I will ever love. You saved me when I needed saving, you beat me up when I needed my ass kicked, and you loved me when I felt unlovable.” Yeah, he was totally doing it. Her hands shook as she reached for the sparkly diamond tied to the shirt. But she couldn’t pick it up. And it’s not like she didn’t want the thing on her finger or anything, she just didn’t want to look like that super eager bitch that couldn’t wait. So instead, she traced the words written there with her nails.

  Marry me…

  “Abs, I’m not expecting this today, or even next year. I’m nowhere near ready to be the protector or provider you need and deserve,” trembling fingers reached for the circular band, but they weren’t hers. His warm breath grew uneven as he brought his body closer to hers. Reaching for her left hand, he settled it in one of his, his other hand hovering palm up in front of her face. “I wasn’t able to ask you out on a jersey, but this was the best I could do on such short notice. I’ve never in my life felt something so right as I do now.”

  “David…”

  “Abigail, I actually have goals now—a plan to start living my life—even if I’m never going to physically be whole again. And I want nothing more than to start living that life, knowing that you will be my beginning, middle and end. Could you do what the t–shirt says Abs… would you be my fiancée? Marry me? Be my life and my wife someday?”

  Blankness took over her mouth—the words were in her head. Yes…god yes…always, forever. But what came out of her mouth wasn’t quite as graceful.

  “Jesus…I thought you’d never ask, dammit!”

  And with those words, with the quickness of his hands, the beating of her heart, David grinned, slipping that ring on her finger. And together, they sealed the forever kind of promise, with a forever kind of kiss.

  Epilogue

  Three years later…

  “I… am so in love with you… whatever you wanna do… is alright with meeeee. Because yoooooou make me feel, sooo brand newwww. And IIIIII want to spend my life with youuuuuu. Baby leeeet’s, let’s stay togetherrrr…”

  “Damn, who knew surfer boys liked to sing?” Abigail threw an elbow back, digging it into his ribs. He groaned, but smiled anyways, pulling her back, closer to his chest. She was as feisty as ever, and he loved the hell out of her even more each and every day.

  “I think it’s romantic and sweet that the groom wants to sing to his bride. I mean Jesus, why didn’t you do that for our wedding, hmm?”

  “Mason’s a pussy.”

  “Oh, yeah, I forgot. You’re Mr. Doom and Gloom.”

  “Proud of it, especially when it means I get to keep my man card.” She groaned, and he shut his eyes, resting his chin on top of her head. God he loved egging her on, loving the way her rounded belly felt between his palms even more.

  And the dress she had on…shit, all blue and silky, and entirely too low… The thing had his body responding to attention against her backside. Dammit. How in the hell would he ever make it back to their hotel without ravishing his wife in the taxi?

  Smiling at that one word, wife, he whispered in her ear, knowing it drove her crazy when he did. “I don’t sing, Abigail. And we got married in Vegas, so that was Elvis’s job anyway.”

  Giggling, she rested her hands on top of his. “Well, I seem to recall your dad doing a little Elvis impersonation that night.”

  Damn, that felt like forever ago. His father, carrying his mother across the threshold of the chapel, singing Blue Suede Shoes moments after the two of them renewed their vows the very same night that he and Abs had tied the knot.

  Yeah, those were memories to be proud of—drunken father and all.

  His mother’s hair had fully grown back, and her smile was reflecting beautifully off the swinging crystal light that hung above the dance floor. It was almost as if she felt him staring at her, because her glance wandered until she found him over his father’s shoulder. For a woman who was told she wouldn’t live, she sure as hell beat some odds. Fighting back, giving it her all—his mom told the big guy in the sky to suck it, and she kept on living. And damn, did she look amazing. Healthy, happy, glowing, and most importantly she was one year in remission. She winked, mouthing, ‘love you’ before settling her head against his father.

  If there was ever a night when perfection was at its fullest, it was this one. Everyone he loved was there—together—where they belonged.

  “Yeah, Dad was a little toasted that night, wasn’t he?”

  “I’d never seen him so—”

  “Enamored? In love? Yeah, he was high on life, and the vodka only emphasized that.”

  Turning to face him, Abigail lifted her soft hands. Her delicate fingers sprawled out over the length of his blue tie, before settling right above his thundering heart. “That was well worth it, you know, getting married in Vegas just to see the two of them renew their vows. They’re so lucky to have found each other.”

  One shoulder shrug later, he was nodding in agreement. Yeah, it really had been worth it. “What about us?” He teased pulling her closer, running his hands across her ribs—the end of his fingers just barely grazing the sides of her full breasts.

  Moaning slightly at his move, she adjusted her arms higher until they were fully wrapped around his neck. The only thing that could possibly separate them was her perfectly rounded, five month pregnant stomach.

  “Well…I do believe we got very lucky too.” Little did she know that luck had nothing to do with it. The two of them together…? That was all Fate’s doing. And he’d never been so happy to have zero control over something in his entire life.

  Pressing his forehead to hers, he sighed, “Yeah, I’d have to agree on that one, Mrs. Anderson.”

  With another soft giggle, she settled her head against his chest, sighing as they swayed to the soft ballad of his brother–in–law’s voice.

  Damn, he couldn’t believe they’d done it. The surfer boy and his sister had finally taken that forever kind of step. But what he couldn’t believe even more than that was the fact that his sister was no longer an Anderson. Harley freaking Daniel—he shook his head. He’d never get used to that.

  He stared over at her, smiling as she gazed up at her husband on the stage. She looked incredible—her long brownish–black curls pulled back low at her neck, a simple white dress that trailed a few feet behind her. Harley was a princess, and she had
found her prince. The love that the two of them shared was almost as powerful as the feelings he had for Abigail. But almost was the optimal word there.

  “Abigail?”

  Damn was she incredible–looking! She was glowing too—gleaming with a happiness that would never fail to rub off on him. She was everything he never thought he would be lucky enough to have.

  “Yeah?”

  They stopped dancing, backing away to look at one another. David brought his hands to her neck, stroking the underside of her chin as he did. She was both beauty and pride wrapped as one, even with minor scars she still had on her face from her accident. She’d once told him that the scars were her beauty marks, as well as memorials, of sorts, for the baby they’d lost.

  They’d talked about the baby, the what–could–have and should–have–been. They’d cried about it too. Lots of tears, lots of hugs; lots of long nights where they would simply lay in each other’s arms, healing as they reveled in each other’s bodies. At times, he could still see the pain in her eyes, the memory would always plague her, he was sure of it. But he was proud of her nonetheless. The girl was amazing. And now, to top it off, legally his—seven months in the making.

  “Where do you think we’d be right now if we’d never slept together that night in your car?”

  “Honestly?” She blinked up at him. Those blue eyes of hers were definitely the epitome of honesty.

  “Yeah, honestly.”

  She seemed to think about his question, one eye shutting as she chewed almost violently on her thumbnail. Then boom, both eyes were there once more, bright, open and fully focused on him.

  “I think we would have found each other somehow or another. I mean, I never gave up on you, David. And I knew we were one of those couples that had no choice but to actually be together someday. But apparently life has a way of making that happen on its own, whether it’s with our help, or not.”

  “God, you’re amazing, you know that?” She curled her nose, looking adorably…bunny–like. He felt like a complete numb nuts for even thinking that, but that’s exactly what she looked like. All adorable and pale white, like a bunny. Completely huggable—not to forget kissable, sexy, and of course, his.

  “Ehh, I try. You’re not so bad yourself, you know that?” Tipping his chin down, he pressed his lips to her forehead, falling in love with her more every second of the day, even after three years together as an official couple.

  “Well, Abs, let’s just call it a tie then, shall we?”

  She stared up at him, no longer dancing. Her hands dropped to his shoulders and she focused fully on him, no wavering of her gaze, just a stead–fire stern look in her eyes that didn’t seem to cease. “I don’t like ties, David. I think that maybe we should—”

  “Have an all–night competition maybe?”

  “That’s not fair. I can barely stay awake past ten anymore,” she pouted. Her lower lip jutted out, and her eyes blinked accordingly. Dammit, she was the one not playing fair here when she threw in that look.

  “I promise to play fair…”

  “That’s impossible. You don’t play fair—ever.”

  “Oh yes I do, and you…” he lowered his lips to her ears again, playing his own dirty game, “are the most incredible fucking card shark I know.”

  Her body shivered, her breath came out in pants, followed by a tiny moan as his mouth found her neck. He kissed her, just below the ear where he knew she would melt and agree with his coercion. Being evil and devious when it worked in both of their favors in the end was well worth it.

  “Fine…but can we make it strip poker tonight at least?”

  Chuckling, he nuzzled his nose against her cheek, inhaling the smell of delicious skin. “That’s a damn good idea, Mrs. Anderson.”

  “You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Anderson, but as long as you promise to give me a head start first… Maybe take off your shirt first, or I totally wouldn’t oppose the pants either…” she reached for his belt, her eyes narrowed, her lips parted. Damn—screw the game—his wife apparently needed catering to.

  “Deal. I’ll take off whatever you want me to. Now let’s go, before I lose control right here.”

  Stepping up on her tiptoes, Abigail brushed her lips over his, grinning when she pulled back again. She looked just as flustered as he felt. Good, very good. He had her right where she belonged.

  “Let’s go then. Take me home, David Paul.”

  Pulling her into his hold, taking all she offered, giving all he had in return, he nodded back at her, “You’ve got it, Abs.”

  Heather Van Fleet

  Heather Van Fleet currently resides in northern Illinois, with her three daughters, Kelsey, Emma, and Isabella, and her fabulous hubby (and high school sweetheart) Chris, with whom she’s been blissfully married to now for ten plus years. She’s a stay at home mom by day, and an avid and completely obsessive writer and reader by night.

  Other Books by Heather Van Fleet

  When It’s Least Expected

  Resisting Fate

  Seizing Fate