his. “Miles, I’m doing well. I’m a lot better and making great strides in dealing with my past. But I’m a work in progress. I’ll need therapy for a long time to come. Maybe permanently…and there’ll be times a sudden move or an argument will trigger my fight or flight response. I want you to understand that I know you will never hurt me. I know you’re an amazing, gentle man and on the—hopefully rare—occasions when that does happen, I don’t want you to be hurt or think it’s about you. It’s always about me.”
His arms tightened protectively around her, and he kissed the top of her head sweetly.
“I won’t pretend that I’m okay with that, sweetheart. It’ll hurt. Even though I know where it’s coming from. But I’d be happy to attend any couple’s therapy sessions you think we may need to help us deal with those moments.”
“You would?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t want you to think you should walk on eggshells around me. I enjoy a good argument or disagreement as much as the next person. I can’t control where or when it happens. But I do know it won’t happen all the time. And hopefully with time, patience, and therapy, we’ll move past it.”
“Well, since we’re confessing secrets. Here’s one about me you don’t know. And I don’t want you to look at me any differently…because I know how much of a freak you’ll think I am because of it.”
Charity’s eyes widened, and she levered herself onto her elbow to watch him curiously.
“I’m fucking deathly afraid of heights.”
“No.” To say she was shocked would be understating it.
“Yeah…your jumping off cliffs and out of planes stories? Terrifying. Why do you think this house is built on one level? When the views would be so much more panoramic from a second floor?”
“But the basement stairs…”
“Oddly, knowing the stairs are below ground, so to speak, makes it less horrifying. I mean, I can stare into a deep, cavernous hole. But I can’t handle that exact same distance down, from the top of a building. And flying is fine too. If I’m not sitting close to the window, I can fool my brain into thinking I’m on a bus or something. Weird, right?”
“To be honest, I thought you were weird long before this. I mean, the lobsters, the odd ‘wannabe but can’t’ vegetarian thing, and the only song you know is I’m Too Sexy, for God’s sake!”
“Absolutely not true,” he protested vehemently. “I know plenty of other songs. I just can’t ever seem to hum them.”
“See? Weird!”
“God, how the hell did I survive so many months without you?” he wondered, abruptly serious.
“We’re together now. And this is all that matters. Well this and…”
She allowed her voice to taper off, and she didn’t have to wait long for the impatient prod. “And what?”
“Well, I need to know what happened with Willow and Delonix.”
He shook with silent laughter. “How the hell should I know? I couldn’t finish the damned book without you, could I?”
“Really?” Hearing him tell her he loved her was one thing…but this right here. This was proof of that love.
“Yes really, I missed you and listening to the book made it worse.”
She could feel herself beaming and knew her face must have lit up like a Christmas tree. His irritated words made her so damned happy.
“We’ll finish it tomorrow,” she promised, climbing on top of him to straddle his thighs.
“Yes,” he nodded eagerly, whether in response to her enthusiastic grinding against his cock or to her words, she couldn’t be certain. Until he added, “And then start the next part of the adventure. Together.”
The haunting strains of Wagner’s wedding march beautifully plucked from the strings of an elegantly curved pedal harp, swelled to a sobbing crescendo as the bride reached the end of the rose petal strewn red carpet. Her handsome groom, his face a study in reverence, adoration, and love, waited with tightly folded hands. As if he had to physically restrain himself from reaching for her.
“Who gives this woman to marry this man?” The minister intoned seriously, despite the grin on her face.
“I do,” the handsome man beside the beautiful bride replied, his voice brimming with pride and emotion. He lifted her veil and planted a sweet kiss on her cheek, before removing her hand from the crook of his elbow and transferring it to her waiting groom’s hand.
“You’d better take good care of her, George.” The words were thick with warning, and the guests tittered in amusement, even though