I hug her even harder for just a second.
My thoughts are right.
Earlier, I told her I’m grateful for her and Theo, but that doesn’t do justice to how I really feel. The things they and Cliff have taught me about love and happiness amid pain and darkness…they’re priceless. They are what made me strong.
How do you pay someone back for something like that?
I’ll happily spend the rest of my days working at it.
‘You won this time.’
God.
I end our hug so I can pull back and look at her. I’m able to make out that her devotion-filled eyes are damp, and I realize quite belatedly that mine are too.
Still, there’s no way to stop myself from smiling at her.
I take my time tucking her hair behind her ears. She blinks slowly and smiles with me, then levels a tender look on me.
“I’m so in love with you, Beck,” she whispers. “Happy birthday.”
With my heart swelling impossibly bigger, I tell her in my own whisper, “Thank you. But…happy life, Ellie. I have a happy life.”
Now she spears me with a smile so bright that I’m drawn in like a moth.
“I’m in love with you too,” I sigh before wrapping her mouth up in the most earnest of kisses.
Moment by keen moment, we take back this candlelit space.
She binds me in a fierce embrace that fixes me right against her, reminding me of all the ways her body matches mine. Pressing lips part and let my tongue find hers, shifting our kiss into a slowness that I swear slows time itself. And there’s no explaining how it feels to know this won’t end the way it did last time we stood here. We aren’t about to pull away in sudden shock, afraid of our feelings; we aren’t about to wonder why we’ve done what we’ve done.
We are solid.
Deep kisses turn into her tongue tasting my bottom lip. I remember her doing that the last time we held each other here, and it brings the reclamation full-circle.
One of my grasping hands leaves her soft hair to slip down and beneath her shirt. I mold it to the curve of her lower back, and she sighs into a smile.
After a second, her giggle hits my lips.
“I have a happy life,” she murmurs.
“We have a happy life,” I conclude.
Her nod is ardent, and so is her, “Yes.”
We keep that happiness going with one more kiss, then with a new exchange of heartfelt gazes, then with me bending over to retrieve the coin from the shadowy floor so we can look at it together.
And as the moments drift along, I realize something.
With me holding the coin and her tracing it with one fingertip, and our free arms easily winding around each other, and our breaths going slow and even…yes, the warmest and most wonderful thing occurs to me.
It’s no longer true to say nothing feels better to me than Noelle.
The truth now is that nothing feels better to me than us.
- epilogue -
N O E L L E
after two years
It doesn’t seem like Beckett snores very often, so when it happens, I get a kick out of it. Like, to the point that I can’t stifle my amusement, so I lie next to him with my hands over my mouth while I try not to disturb him with bed-shaking laughter.
I think it’s because of the way he snores. It’s not loud and obnoxious and a ruiner of my own sleep—rather, it’s a quiet, kind of snarly noise that is endearing and hilarious at the same time. I could honestly spend forever listening to it.
And it’s official that I will.
This sunny, snore-adorned morning is my first as Beckett’s wife.
As I lie on my side and look at him, I giggle about his cuteness, admire the sight of the white-gold band on his finger, and spark with joy over yesterday’s memories.
I get to go the rest of my life being Noelle Slater.
Noelle Anna-Kate Slater.
Ellie Slater.
I’m his wife, and he’s my husband. We’re bound in the last way that was left after all this time of us meaning the world to each other.
He suddenly shifts in his sleep, sadly cutting off his snoring. He rolls onto his side to face away from me. I snuggle up to his back—and quickly find I’m not too sad about this change, since he instinctively cradles my hand against his bare chest.
I close my eyes, but there’s no way my thoughts will allow me to doze off again.
‘Marry me.’
The year that has passed since he spoke those words hasn’t done anything to diminish the effect they had on my heartbeat; they still put a mighty skip in it.
It was one of those days that trick people into spending time outside because there’s a great blend of sun and cloud-cover, and then a stray minute of rain decides to show up. We had been heading back home from a leisurely walk around the neighborhood; after attending the gender reveal party for Blaze and his pregnant wife, we dropped Theo off for a playdate with a friend who lives down the street from us, then took our time going back home. The rain came right there at the very end, when we were just a few houses down from ours.
Normally, I can’t stand the way it looks for rain to be falling while the day is bright. Something about it has always seemed so weird to me. But that day was different. That day, I was all laughs because Beckett was all laughs because where the hell had the rain come from? It was no light sprinkling. It was getting us good. We were so surprised by it that all we could do was let amusement overtake us as we continued on our way.
In the middle of me starting to remember the last time we got rained on so heavily, his fingers tugged on mine, urging me to stop walking. I looked over my shoulder and found him just there, his laughter suddenly gone, his gaze roaming my face. He lifted his hand to my cheek, and I went quiet too; my attention snapped away from amazing memories and stuck on the way he was looking at me like I was the most captivating thing he’d ever seen.
I was ready for a kiss. Was tilting my face up to his, squeezing the hand he still held, thinking about how captivating he was right then with his wet shirt and his rain-streaked cheeks and his laughter still echoing in the air—I swore it still echoed in the air, happy and free.
“Marry me,” swept over my lips, feather-light, instead of a kiss.
I can still feel it there.
I can still hear the rain and the breath I dragged in as my pulse stumbled all over itself.
I can still see him shifting his gaze over my face with those ocean-and-sunshine eyes that never fail to warm me; even on that spring day in the bright rain, they warmed me in a way I utterly loved.
My nods were so enthusiastic they made me dizzy, but his hand didn’t move from my face.
The elated breath he huffed out finally sent tears to my eyes, but that didn’t stop me from turning all the way around and kissing him as hard as I could.
I don’t know how long we stood there like that.
Don’t know who might’ve seen us, or where exactly our hands wandered as our mouths moved together.
All I know is the day had taken on a halcyon glow, and it was ours to treasure.
It turned out he had a ring for me, but it was hidden at home because he hadn’t known when he might propose. Though ideas had come and gone for months, none of them stuck with him—none of them pulled at his heart the way that random rainy minute did.
I completely understood and wouldn’t have changed a thing about it.
I told him so while we held hands on the edge of our bed and marveled at the ring, which he had slipped onto my most important finger. The look of it takes my breath away even to this day; it’s white gold like his and crowned with moissanite stones that give it a graceful, almost vintage feel. He said he knew it was meant for me the moment he saw it, and he was right.
I’ll never forget the way his smile shone in those moments.
Yet the way he smiled during our wedding yesterday had it beat.
The general way he was yesterday had almost every other day
beat to hell.
When it was time to exchange our vows, his eyes were as misty as I always imagined they’d be, and his voice trembled, and he held my hands so hard it hurt, and I adored every damn second.
And I was with him on every single one too—teary-eyed, tight-throated, and white-knuckled from all the beautiful things we have given each other and all that are still to come.
Here and now, I squeeze him, then wiggle around until I can snuggle my face into the uncovered warmth between his shoulder blades.
He snorts softly in his sleep and—oh my Lord, I’m not even making it up—starts his hilarious snoring again.
This time, I do disturb him with my laughter. Between how I’m cuddling him and how seriously the noise tickles me, it can’t be helped.
Even after he has rolled back around toward me, it takes him a minute to really wake up.
I expect it’ll take more time yet for him to say much of anything, since the first not-drowsy thing he does is draw me into his toasty embrace and kiss me.
Do I mind? No. No, I do not.
Well, most of me doesn’t—my rumbling stomach soon becomes the one exception.
“Me too,” he mumbles against my lips.
“Hungry?” I ask.
“Mmhmm.”
I hug him and remember we’re on our honeymoon, about an hour away from home in a nice hotel. We’ve got promising food options at the restaurant downstairs, as well as many more around this suburb of Dallas.
“Hmm,” I hum before kissing him for another long moment. “Wanna get breakfast and drink mimosas and be a happily married couple?”
Just like that, he’s grinning. “Babe, you got no idea how badly I wanna do all that.”
Under the blanket, tingling heat stirs in me as one of his hands slips beneath the bunched-up hem of my short nightdress. It glides over my hip slowly, temptingly.
I try not to moan.
I fail when his kiss lowers to my neck.
“Beckett….”
He pulls his mouth off my pulse point and tsks. “Hey, don’t go saying my name like that. I’m ready for the food-and-mimosas plan.”
I scoff, then giggle and play along. “Oh, yes, I forgot. Sorry for being seductive.”
Chuckling heartily, he scoots away from me. As soon as our eyes meet, he winks.
“Freakin’ tease,” he says. “Can’t believe I married such a tease!”
“I can’t believe I married such a silly-ass!”
We laugh.
I amend, “No, I can believe that. Your silliness is part of why I love you so much.”
He gives me a sunny grin and, gosh, he’s way more handsome than anyone has any right to be after just waking up.
He crawls out of bed saying, “I love you so much right back, and I love making you laugh, and I’ll love getting back in bed with you after we aren’t starving anymore. How’s that?”
Once he’s on his feet, he holds out a hand to help me leave the bed too. I take it, and he stamps a kiss onto the back of mine, which makes me smile so big my cheeks hurt.
“Good idea,” I tell him.
He still smacks my ass as I’m heading off to find something to wear.
I gasp and rush to smack his, too, which has us bursting into laughter again.
This is the way to greet a day.
—
After a delectable breakfast and a couple more mimosas than we planned on, we decide to journey up to the pool on the roof. It’s early enough that no one else is out here, but since we’re still in our regular clothes, we just sit side-by-side with our feet in the water. It’s cool and the temperature out here is pleasant and there are birds singing and I love Beckett’s laughter—God, I love it. And his smile. And his face. And all the rest of him…very much including the parts that excel at lighting me up with pleasure….
But especially his heart.
I will never be able to get over the fact that he gave his heart to me.
I’m the luckiest girl in the world.
God knows it didn’t feel like that for a long while there. It felt like I was unlucky; it wasn’t fair that I had found and connected with an amazing guy, had the promise of a family and a future with him, and then lost him without warning.
But continuing on has taught me that I’m not unlucky at all. In spite of my heartache, I’m blessed.
The universe found me deserving of true love not just once in my life but twice.
Although I don’t know how it happened, I won’t take a second of it for granted.
The fleeting thought of my then love drifts away with the breeze that ruffles the hair of my now love. As always, I’m left with a familiar sense of deep, quiet gratitude for what I had—and an also deep but also very warm and thriving and breathtaking and makes-me-want-to-dance sense of gratitude for what I have now.
Buzzing with champagne and happily hunching my shoulders, I toss Beckett a smile.
“Husband and wife,” I mention for the bazillionth time.
The look he sends up and down me is buzzy and happy too. “Husband and wife!”
“I can’t wait to write my new name on everything.”
He snickers and nudges me with his elbow. “Been practicing in all your school notebooks, cutie?”
I relax my shoulders, lean back on my palms, and kick my feet in the water. “Of course. I’ve got, ‘Beckett and Noelle forever!’ written all over my pre-algebra binder.”
His laughter grows fuller and louder.
“You should see my diary!” I add with my own laugh.
That cracks him up big time.
“I can’t wait to watch you,” he manages to say. “In all honesty, Ellie, I can’t wait to watch you be mine in a whole new way.”
My stomach flips like I really am back in junior high or something. “For everyone to see.”
“Yep, the whole world.”
We quiet down and simply look at each other.
I’m visited by another memory from yesterday, this time from our reception: the photographer snapping pictures of cheerful Beckett tossing a laughing, dress-clad Theodora up into the air. After he and I danced, even working in a smooth and beautiful lift that had us grinning, he and Theo did much sillier dancing. She wanted to be lifted, too, and of course he made it happen.
She’ll take his last name too—partly, anyway. We’ll hyphenate it with Cliff’s so she can decide what she wants to be called later on, when she’s older. For now, Beckett and I are happy for her to go with both.
“You’re such a good dad,” I tell him softly.
Delighted surprise snaps him out of whatever thoughts he had fallen into himself.
He may be beaming at me, but his words come out as soft as mine. “Thank you. What makes you say that?”
“I just got to thinking about you and the little princess.”
“Yeah?”
I nod. “The two of you were so perfect yesterday.”
Still smiling, he scoots close enough to notch a curled finger under my chin. The sudden probability of a kiss is mouthwatering—I lower my gaze to his lips and wet mine and remember those few tempting seconds back in our room and….
“I felt perfect,” he murmurs back to me. “But as usual, you and Theo had me beat.”
The mixture of my thoughts and those memories has me smiling with him.
I mirror the way he inches in, closer to that kiss.
He adds, “It was an absolutely phenomenal damn day.”
Then he dissolves into fresh chortles.
“Including you tripping in your heels and trying so hard not to spill your champagne that—”
I gasp and lean away from him. As badly as I want that kiss, I have to look at him with wide eyes.
“Oh my God, my dad! I still feel so bad for spilling my drink on him! My feet were just so tired—they quit working for, like, half a second, and it was enough to mess me up!”
“You went right into him!” His laughter shakes his shoulders. “Holy shit, Noelle
, you went stumbling and then turned to grab the closest thing to you and it was him and your entire glass just went….”
We curl into ourselves and laugh uncontrollably. I hold my sides while he drops his head into his hands.
When he sits back up, he puffs out, “Oh, man, you’ve got me crying a little bit.”
I reach up and ruffle the back of his hair, trying to catch my breath. “I’d apologize, but the truth is I love making you laugh!”
He takes a steadying breath, turns his eyes to me, and promptly tries to stifle a snort. “I wish you could’ve seen how you looked! It was the funniest and most adorable thing.”
I lean toward his smile again with one of my own, officially ready for that kiss.
I don’t even have to formulate anything else to say; he puts his finger back under my chin and finally fits his mouth to mine.
Swoon-worthy.
Even after all this time, kissing him feels like my soul itself is being touched.
He’s still my ocean, still responsible for my body being run through with fault lines, still capable of making me breathless without doing much of anything to me.
But oh, when he does do things to me….
The next time I moan his name, it’s because we’re back in our room and he has just picked me up to carry me to the bed.
Two seconds into the trip over, he trips and goes stumbling, and it reminds me so much of what we were talking about before that I explode into laughter.
He does, too, though he also complains, “What the hell is in the middle of the floor?”
Neither of us checks, though—I get relocated to the end of the unmade bed. Even after we’re out of our clothes, we keep chuckling but still focus on getting him on me; the floor would be our concern if we were doing this down there, but we aren’t.
He covers my body with his, and I clutch at his waist, and….
We let out matching sounds of satisfaction and desire, because something else is true even after all this time: sliding into place with each other in this most intimate of ways is a feeling like no other.
Today, it’s especially hot and especially special.
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