Chapter 34
Thirty-Four
River
I’m just hugging Briar, my goodbye and her protest telling me to stay just a little bit longer hanging in the air when her eyes widen and she gasps.
Nope.
Not going there.
Someone probably just fell.
Or maybe a rogue said something saucy and got a face full of punch in his face for his impertinence.
Or someone proposed.
Or…a hundred other things, none of which require me to turn my attention to the doors for the umpteenth time this evening and battle through my crippling disappointment again.
I’m okay.
I’ll be okay.
But I don’t need to be a glutton for punishment.
And I don’t need to be standing on the sidelines waiting for an idiot man to get his head together. I’m going to go to the penthouse and make him see sense—even if I have to thump him upside the head with it.
“River,” Briar begins.
I touch her arm. “I’ll see you so—ack!” She grabs the tops of my shoulders and spins me around and—
My heart thuds hard against my rib cage, and emotion flows through me so rapidly my vision spins.
Because those grand double doors aren’t empty.
Thorn is standing in them, his gaze searching the room.
I inhale and—
That deep green gaze locks onto mine.
Emotion flares in him too. I see it in his eyes, in the way his mouth drops open and his throat works and how he nervously shoves a hand through his hair, sending the locks tumbling around his face.
Then he steps fully into the ballroom and…it’s like the world disappears.
The music fades.
The crowd parts.
The ballroom fades away.
All of it.
Just…gone.
There’s only Thorn, his strides long and determined as he crosses over to me, as he pauses in front of me. As he wraps his fingers around mine.
They’re warm and a little rough and…
God, he came.
Wearing a velvet jacket, deep green to match my dress and threaded with silver embroidery. His hair is disheveled and his beard is a little more overgrown than normal and his eyes—
“Little hen,” he murmurs.
His eyes undo me.
“Are you really here?” I whisper. “I’m not having a bad reaction to the punch?”
His mouth kicks up and his fingers squeeze mine. “Yeah, sweetheart. I’m really here.”
I release a shuddering exhale as hope burns through my insides. “Oh,” I whisper. My eyes slide closed and I don’t realize a tear has escaped until his thumb brushes over my cheek and my lids fly open, the glistening drop on his finger.
“I’m so sorry, little hen,” he says softly. “This mess is all my fault.”
“It really is,” I blurt, but I don’t mean it. Not really. So, I admit, “I was just telling Briar goodnight. I was coming to knock some sense into you.”
His eyes looks away, and then he laughs and looks back, tucks an errant strand of hair behind my ear. “We’re a pair, huh?” he murmurs.
For a moment, neither of us moves.
Then he’s tugging me closer, cupping my jaw in his palm. “I love you.”
My lips part on a shaky exhale. “I love you too, but—”
He tenses like he’s going to pull away and I wrap my hand around his wrist, keep his palm where it is. “I need you to know that I wasn’t disgusted by what you told me, wasn’t repulsed by what you did—”
“You should be,” he rasps, his fingers flexing on my skin.
I hold tighter.
“I was horrified for what you had to endure. Growing up like that, finding those kids, having to raise a gun to someone you obviously cared about. Not to mention Sergio coming back into your life and bringing all of those memories up again.”
He closes his eyes, and this time and it’s my turn to wipe away a tear.
“You loved her.”
A shudder. “Yes.”
“Oh, honey.” I turn my head, press my lips to his palm. “I can’t imagine the strength it took to survive that.”
“You looked at me like I was a monster.” He swallows. “I am a monster.”
Quiet, heartbreaking words.
Quiet, heartbreaking words that piss me off.
“You’re not a fucking monster,” I snap. “You’re a man who survived a nightmare.
You’re a man who built a business that helps people.
You’re a man who buys gourmet salmon treats and makes sure I have my books and who treads so damned carefully when a broken woman is scared it heals something in her. ”
“You’re not broken.”
“I am,” I tell him. “And so are you.”
His breath catches.
“But the beautiful thing is that when we’re together our pieces form one whole.”
Another tear slips free as he exhales and rests his forehead against mine. “What did I possibly do to deserve you?”
“Nothing,” I whisper. “Because you’ve never had to earn my love.” A beat. “And you never will.”
His arms convulse around me. “Little hen,” he whispers.
“No more running. No more hiding. No more than being anything but exactly who you are.” I lean back enough to meet his eyes. “Because that’s the man I love.”
“Christ, sweetheart.” He slants his mouth over mine, kisses me for one breathless moment. “I convinced myself it was all to protect you. But I was wrong. I was fucking scared.”
“Oh, honey. Don’t you know that we’ve both spent most of our lives just trying to survive?” I kiss him. “But now we’re going to put all the fears aside and fucking live.”
For a second, he just stares at me in wonder.
Then he shakes his head with a soft laugh before his eyes grow serious. “I promise you I will spend the rest of my life making up for these weeks I made us spend apart.”
I touch his jaw. “How about we just focus on making the coming weeks and months and years the best they can be?”
Gentle green eyes. A soft smile.
Then he nods. “Sounds like a plan, little hen.” A tilt of his head and I realize the orchestra has begun playing a soft ballad. “Dance with me?”
“Always,” I murmur, my heart so damned full it feels like it’ll overflow.
He takes my hand, draws me to the dance floor and I don’t miss that there are eyes on us—Brooks and Briar, Rome and Chrissy, King and Rory, Jace and Marie, Tiff and Jean-Michel and—I squint—even Pascal is smiling as he disappears through the double doors.
My friends.
My family.
My future.
The biggest piece of which is towing me to the dance floor.
Something occurs to me as he takes me in his arms.
“Have you been reading my books?”
He glances down at me, his green eyes dancing as he starts moving us to the beat. “What do you think?”
My mouth hitches up as even more happiness wells up in me. “That you’d better have read the next chapter.”
He leans close, his lips brushing my ear. “I read every single word, little hen.”