Chapter 33
33
EVE CASSIDY
‘I just wanna sleep!’ I yell into the dark for the second night in a row. But I can’t, because my mind won’t shut down.
You know what, I should call him and yell. Tell him what he’s done to me for the second time. Why the heck shouldn’t I? I hit his contact name on my phone and put it on speaker. But it doesn’t even ring, just goes straight to his voicemail.
‘ What’s up, this is Foster. Leave me a message. Or text. I’d rather you text .’
The sound of his voice hurts physically, yet I want to call again just to hear it. I hang up, pulling up our text thread and typing one out.
Why?
I hit ‘send’ but I feel like this needs more than a single word.
Why didn’t you turn back at the airport?
Send. That’s better. But let’s annoy him a little.
Am I just not enough?
Send. Ouch. That one hurts to read and I sort of hope he doesn’t answer it.
At some point I drift off, awaking to a relentless pounding on my door as if the person on the other side is determined to break it down. It feels like a scene from a crime movie, and at this moment – while I’m feeling particularly stabby – the thought of facing the consequences for a crime I didn’t – or have yet to – commit doesn’t scare me.
I let out a groan, rolling over in bed and trying to ignore the persistent knocking at the door. They’ve got to have the wrong apartment. But no, they don’t go away and the sound continues, echoing through my skull. If I don’t answer, whoever is outside will likely wake up the entire building.
‘You’re really brave!’ I yell from the depths of my room, throwing the quilt from my body and storming toward the front door. ‘You should know that I’m in the mood for murder, given the terrible few days I’ve had – or truthfully, the terrible few years . So, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll go aw—’ I yank open the door mid-sentence and suddenly find myself frozen in place.
At my feet is Foster, down on one knee, with a stunning bouquet of daisies placed on the ground in front of him. In one hand, he holds my old wedding ring, and in the other, a set of papers.
‘You are enough,’ he says immediately.
He got my text.
‘I, however, am a complete idiot. I got home and realized I only wanted to be where you are – with the only girl I’ve ever truly loved. My house didn’t feel the same. Florida didn’t feel the same. Even my bike didn’t feel the same. I know you’re mad that I didn’t tell you about still being married sooner, but I want you to know that I have a plan.’
A weird half-cry, half-laugh exits my lips. ‘You do?’
He nods. ‘I’ve only been thinking about it for five years. I just – it took this for me to realize I’m ready. I love you, Eve, until death do us part. Still. Love is enough.’
Tears are streaming down my cheeks at this point. I drop to the ground on my knees in front of him. ‘You love me?’
He grins sincerely, looking as emotional as I’ve ever seen him. ‘I really do. Literally since the day we met, even though I don’t understand how it’s possible to love a stranger, but it happened the second I laid eyes on you, and I can’t let you go again.’ He takes a heaving breath, as if getting through that was a strain. ‘But in case you don’t feel the same, I also filed for the divorce, and I’ll sign the papers, but only if you really, really, really want me to.’ He looks at me with puppy dog eyes, pleading for forgiveness with a sparkle of hope that this will go the way he wants.
I cross my arms over my chest – playing hard to get even though my heart has jumped to life and is twirling in my chest. ‘Are you done lying to me?’
He nods enthusiastically. ‘If I ever lie again, I’ll let you come at me Cayden-style and I’ll just take it.’
I laugh through the tears. ‘And what if I really, really, really want you to sign those papers?’
The shy, hopeful grin on his face gets a little more secure with each ‘really’.
‘Well, in that case, there’s a question I’mma need to ask you.’ He’s really laying it on thick, pulling out the panty-melting southern drawl he knows I love to help convince me.
The click of a lock grabs my attention, and when I glance down the hall, I see Phil. He gasps loudly, earning Foster’s gaze as well.
His eyes are wide, a baseball bat in one hand, and a muffled squeal escapes his lips as he suddenly realizes what is happening. He drops the bat on the carpeted floor.
‘He’s doing it! Oh my God, he came back!’ he squeaks, easily waking up the rest of the floor, then quickly placing both hands over his mouth, attempting to stifle any further sound.
He came back. And here I am, in my least sexy pajamas, nervously biting my lip, feeling my heart race with every breath, as though it’s dancing to a beat I can’t hear. Could the moment so many girls dream of actually be happening to me? Again?
‘Go ahead,’ I say, trying to hide the excitement bubbling up inside me. If my insides burst, butterflies will flood the hallway.
Foster heaves a sigh of relief; a giddy chuckle that matches how I feel exactly slips from his lips as he theatrically tosses the divorce papers over his shoulder. They flutter to the ground like confetti as he reaches for my left hand, raising it to his lips without breaking our intense gaze.
‘Evie, losing you was the worst thing that ever happened to me. I don’t wanna give up. I choose you. First. Over everything else. Will you, please, stay married to me?’
I raise my hand to my lips, trying to conceal the silly grin spreading across my face. ‘For how long this time, do you suppose?’ I joke, unable to pretend I’m even considering saying no to him.
‘Five, thirty, maybe fifty years?’
I laugh, nodding my head yes. ‘Yes, Foster. I would love to stay married to you.’
With a swift motion, he slips the ring onto my finger, then rises to his feet, pulling me up by one hand with him, and envelops me in a tight, one-armed embrace, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of my forehead.
‘I love you too,’ I say into his ear, words I haven’t spoken out loud in so long, but they feel so right.
Phil’s emotions overflow as he starts jogging in place, his hands raised in the air, his fingers wiggling in excitement. ‘ Congratulations ! That was exactly what I was hoping for! Maybe not at four in the morning – I thought you were an intruder – but still, what a way to wake up! Also, for the record, this is exactly what I want, so if any of your biker friends are into Phils, please let me know,’ he exclaims playfully, with only a hint of jealousy in his voice.
Foster’s lopsided grin speaks volumes. He’s clearly overjoyed. ‘Can a Guy buy his wife some breakfast?’
I laugh at the pun but shake my head, gripping his hand and guiding him into my apartment. ‘How about you, my husband , make me, your wife , some breakfast – after we consummate this marriage reconciliation thing, of course.’
‘See ya, Phil,’ he says without hesitation, closing the door behind him.
And with that, the little voice inside me while he was here healing, screaming ‘he’s still the one’, is now singing in full chorus and I couldn’t be happier. He is – and always has been – the one.