He continued, unaffected “Naturally, I want to give you everything. I want you to have everything.”
I would have interrupted again, telling him I did have everything just by having him, but his face was locked in concentration and I didn’t want to interrupt his flow. “When I turned you into an Immortal that night, I took away your right to one day have children . . . grandchildren.” He stroked my cheek, apology in his caress. “I took you away from your friends, family, college—”
It became too much. I couldn’t let him bear the guilt of the pieces of my past and the promises of my future on his shoulders any longer.
“William Hayward,” I interrupted, sitting up, “have I not been utterly and unequivocally clear that I don’t have any regrets since I met you?”
“There was this one time you left me not too long ago . . .”
I managed something of a scowl at him. “Yeah, I’m well aware leaving you was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made and ever will make. That’s hindsight, right?” I bit my lip. “Sorry about that.”
He grinned. “You’re forgiven. Just don’t do it again.”
I crossed my index finger over my heart solemnly.
“Good enough for me,” he said, nodding once. “Back to what I was saying about ruining your life”—he grinned wider when my eyes narrowed—“I know how much I took from you—despite your reassurances otherwise—so therefore it’s my responsibility, my duty, to make sure I spend the rest of my eternity making it up to you.”
“Making it up to me?” I asked, looking at him like he was insane.
“By making sure I give you every opportunity to experience anything and everything possible.”
“Okay. That sounds a little monumental, not to mention vague.”
He pulled my hands into his lap. “I can’t give you children, but I can give you my last name. I can’t give you the kind of wedding you dreamed of as a little girl, but I can give you a wedding night.” His eyes looked into mine and I saw a glimmer of it, that night. It was just a glimpse, but enough to make my stomach knot. “I can’t give you the gentle passing of time as you watch your family expand, but I can promise you a man who will never leave your side. I can’t give you back everything I took that night I changed you, but I can make you a promise that I will spend my existence trying to make it up to you.”
I swallowed, wishing I could have made such professions of love to him delivered with the same eloquence. But what oil was to vinegar, I was to eloquence.
“I know you’re trying to paint a bleak picture for me, but getting to spend the rest of my life with you, just like this”—I ran my hand down his chest, that was equal parts hard and heated—“is anything but sobering.” His eyes closed as my fingers trailed lowering, hooking into a belt-loop of his jeans. “Are you sure your answer is still no?” I asked, shamelessly luring him with my voice.
He kept his eyes closed, squeezing them tighter. “Yes, that’s still my answer, at least for now, because as soon as we’re United you will never hear the word no from me again when it comes to any aspect of elevating our relationship to the next level.”
I unhooked my fingers and settled for circling them around a pillow. I tossed it at his face. “I can’t believe this! You’re impossible.”
He nodded, opening his eyes. “You certainly wouldn’t be the first person to say that. Come on,” he said, pulling me up from the bed. Probably for the best since it didn’t sound like we’d be making good use of it anytime soon.
He slid open a window, letting in the crisp Montana air. “Just a second,” he said, disappearing through the window. A thud sounded above as a hand reached down to me. I grabbed hold and he swung me up onto the roof beside him.
“I think I like where you’re going with this,” I said, taking in the stars sparkling against the blanket of black above us.
“I’ve barely gotten started,” he whispered, pressing me down with his chest against mine.
“Definitely liking where you’re going with this,” I breathed, back pressed into the roof, everything else pressed into him.
He kissed the outside of my mouth, hitching his hands over my hips. “I thought you might,” he said, moving to the other corner of my mouth. “I figure if we’re going to spend a good portion of our time out here star-gazing, we’ll need a lot of practice to ensure we don’t slide off if we’re . . . distracted.”
I felt his body shifting, but it was going the opposite direction of where I wanted him. I might have begrudgingly agreed to wait until we were United for all I wanted to be doing at this very moment, but that didn’t mean we needed to downgrade our level of intimacy to prude status. I moved quicker, ending up directly beneath him again. I pressed my h*ps into his just so, not feeling the least bit of guilt. There were more things than balance we could practice before our Unity.
His moan was interrupted midstream by a holler, followed by his body sliding down and away. I don’t know if his foot caught hold in the rain-gutter or my hand grabbing his stopped his fall, but one thing was apparent either way. William was right about us needing practice, or harnesses, if we planned on making the steep angled roof a regular retreat for our post-Union romance.
“What were you saying about practice?” I asked, pulling him back to me and, small as it was, it felt good pulling him back from the abyss. He’d done it so many times for me, but this was the first time I knew of where I was the one pulling him back from the brink.
“My point exactly,” he said, dusting his hands off on his pants. “Lots of practice. Lots and lots.”
“And lots?” I asked, trying to keep from smiling.
“Exactly.”
“It sounds exhausting, but I think I’m up for the challenge,” I said, lounging back again, waiting for him.
I didn’t wait long. He crawled towards me, settling over me without cushioning his weight on propped elbows. “Me too,” he said, a myriad of affirmations hidden in between the lines of his promise.
Experience had robbed William and me of our naivety when it came to our future together. We’d been slapped in the face by reality before we had a chance to get all idealistic about how life could be for us. There were no rainbows, white horses, or yellow brick roads waiting for us, but here’s why I didn’t care.
I had him.
The rest of it was the make-believe of tiara and tulle twirling five-year-old girls. Even the most imaginative of them couldn’t have dreamed up a William Hayward and I was the girl who got to share an eternity with him.
Happily ever after wasn’t a destination, it was a journey. And we were well on our way.
His lips slid over my neck, giving physical meaning to the phrase, and right before my eyes fell in response, they caught hold of a patch of night sky. A patch where a very familiar star was blaring its brightness, no longer flashing at me like a strobe. It didn’t need to anymore; its message had been delivered. I’d followed its advice, all the way back home to the man I loved.
THE END