to contain a crazy grin, or the relief that flooded her heart. She crossed the few feet to his bed and drank in the sight of him. An IV drip snaked out of his arm, and his chest was bandaged. His face was tired, but a gorgeous smile tugged at his lips.
“You look beautiful,” she said.
“I’d laugh, but it would hurt too much.”
“Are you okay?” she asked, wonder in her voice, still amazed, still overjoyed that he was here.
“Yes, and that’s what they tell me, too. But I suspect the morphine helps that feeling.”
She smiled once more and raised a hand, wanting to touch his face, his arm…him.
“You can touch me,” he rasped, answering her unspoken question.
She bent forward, touching him first with her lips, brushing them across his cheek. A quiet sigh escaped him. “I thought you were going to die,” she whispered, the words spilling out with a fresh round of tears that fell on his cheek. She’d hoped to be strong. She’d told the other women she would be. But it was hard, so damn hard, and now all the relief and happiness bubbled up and poured out of her in these salty streaks along her face and his.
“Evidently, a lot of people did,” he said wryly, his sense of humor as robust as ever. “The doctor said she wasn’t sure if I was going to make it through, either. Can’t say I’m bummed that I don’t remember a thing that happened after I hit the parking garage floor.”
“Do you want me to tell you?”
He nodded, and she pulled back. He patted the side of the bed that wasn’t tangled up with his IV. “Sit with me, and tell me about the last six hours of my life.”
She didn’t need to be asked twice. She perched on the side of his bed and held his hand in hers. She cleared her throat, took a breath, and met his gaze.
Then she told him everything that had happened.
* * *
His mouth fell open as he took in the enormity of what happened after Charlie had shot him. But that moment when Charlie’s gun had aimed at Annalise still played before his eyes. He gripped her hand tighter. “He was aiming at you. My only thought was to protect you.”
“I know.” She ran her finger across his hand.
“And then you…you finished it,” he added, wonder in his voice.
She winced, her face squeezing as if in pain.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded. “Yes. Just processing it all still. But I’m more than okay.”
“Wow.” He shook his head, trying to make sense of everything. “You killed the man who tried to rip my family apart.”
She nodded, tears slipping from her eyes. “You’re the first man I loved, and the last man I’ll ever love. I wasn’t going to let anyone take you away from me.”
Even though it hurt, even though he wasn’t supposed to move, he lifted his arms, reached for her face, and held it in his palms. “I’d die to save you,” he whispered softly, reverently.
With fierce eyes and a strong voice, she answered, “I wouldn’t let you. Because I’d kill to protect you, and to protect us. I’ve got plans. I’m planning on loving you for a long, long time.”
As she pressed her soft lips to his once more, he felt her love deep in his bones, all the way to his soul.
Love had once been an all-or-nothing thing to him, but with her, love was more than all. Deep and intense, it echoed across time, reverberating to the past, soaring to the future, and, vibrant and bright, love lived in the here and now.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Michael leaned against the bar, drinking a scotch and surveying the scene. The waterfalls at Mandalay Bay hummed, splashing down gently along the rocks, while a man at the black baby grand piano played Billie Holiday. The man was Sophie’s ex-husband, who was still one of her closest friends, and Michael thought it was pretty damn cool that the guy was at her wedding.
What was also fantastic was that the piano player was just a piano player, not a camouflaged front man for crime.
Well, at least Michael was as sure as he could be that Holden was one of the good guys. Everyone here was, even Sanders, who was grabbing an appetizer from a waiter. He handed it to Becky, and she nibbled on it with a smile as he brushed a kiss to her cheek.
Michael turned to Colin, who nursed a Diet Coke next to