Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
Lottie
The mountain sunshine spills through the gap in the curtains.
I shift in bed, turning to see Wes beside me, his arm draped lazily across my waist, his slow, steady breathing brushing my shoulder.
Last night, we’d abandoned the invisible line we’d been pretending existed between us and now there isn’t an inch of space separating our bodies. I don’t think either of us minds.
I carefully turn in his arms, trying not to wake him. A smile tugs at my lips before I can stop it. “You’re awake.”
His voice is rough with sleep. “So are you.”
“Barely.” I roll onto my back and he follows me, propping himself up on one elbow.
His hair sticks up in every direction, his eyes still heavy with sleep.
His gaze finds mine. “I like this so much better.” He nods at the bed.
“The two of us together in one bed. I don’t know what we were thinking with the whole separate rooms thing. ”
I laugh quietly. “We were trying to stick to the arrangement.”
“Let’s not do that anymore.”
The words are light, almost teasing, but they settle deep inside me because I don’t want to do it anymore either.
I pull the duvet a little higher as I glance down at myself, remembering that I’m completely naked.
Last night, Wes looked at my scar with such tenderness that it stole every bit of fear and embarrassment I’ve been carrying around for years.
He never flinched or pitied me or looked at me like I was broken.
He looked at me as though that scar was just another part of my story.
My chest tightens.
I know without a doubt, I will never look at my body the same way again. Wes has forever changed that.
I roll over, and Wes opens his arms without a word, inviting me into the space against his chest. I settle there, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my ear, my fingertips wandering absentmindedly across the soft happy trail on his stomach. He combs his fingers through my hair.
“Will you tell me about it?” he asks. “About what happened?”
I swallow. It’s been a long time since I’ve talked about it, but I realize I want to. Wes has shared so much of his life with me, and I know it wasn’t easy for him. I want to open up to him too.
“I’ve never really liked talking about it,” I admit.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to,” he says.
“I know.”
I trace lazy circles against his ribs, trying to decide where to begin. Once I start, there’s no pretending this part of me doesn’t exist anymore.
I inhale a breath. “My dad has a heart condition, as you know.” I pause. “Shortly after I was born, doctors found out that I inherited it too, which is unusual because Tetralogy of Fallot is not typically inherited.”
I feel Wes’s body go still beneath me.
“I don’t remember all of it,” I say quietly. “I was only eight when I had the surgery.”
Wes’s fingers intertwine with mine. Without saying a word, his arms tighten around my shoulders and he pulls me a little closer against his chest. His fingers drift through my hair in slow strokes, patient and steady.
“They opened my chest.” I pause. “Then a doctor stopped my heart so a machine could keep me alive while they operated.” His grip on my hand tightens imperceptibly. “It’s kinda wild when you think about it.”
“Wild?” He shakes his head. “Lottie, it’s terrifying.”
“I know. But I obviously didn’t know that when it was happening.”
He brushes his thumb over my cheekbone, letting the silence tell me he’s listening and not going anywhere. “What did they have to fix?”
I lay my hand flat over the grid of his abs, loving the warmth of his skin.
“There was a hole between the chambers of my heart and the pathway that carried blood from to my lungs was too narrow. They had to patch the hole, remove the blockage, and widen a valve so blood could flow properly.” I shrug.
“Basically, they had to rebuild my tiny heart.”
He presses a gentle kiss to the top of my hair. “They gave you a chance at a normal life, Lottie. They gave the world a chance to know you.”
A lump forms in my throat.
“It’s why I have to take the pills.” I try to make it sound more inconsequential than it feels.
“When I was thirteen my heart started skipping beats and racing, which is common in people who have had the repair. The medication keeps my heart rhythms working like they’re supposed to.
I’ll need to take them for the rest of my life. ”
“And you hate that,” he murmurs into my hair.
I let out a quiet breath.
“I’m grateful for the pills. I just hate that every morning they’re a reminder that I’m different.
” Wes lifts my hand to his lips and presses a kiss across my knuckles.
I close my eyes. “I’ve watched my dad live with this disease my entire life.
I’ve seen the appointments, the medication, the exhaustion…
the way it slowly changes what your body can do.
” I blink back the sting in my eyes. “I see a reminder that what happened to him…can happen to me. I think that’s what scares me the most.”
His arm tightens around me.
“Lottie—”
“I know medicine has come a long way. I know my situation isn’t exactly the same as his, but when you watch someone you love struggle for as long as I have…
” My voice wavers. “It’s just hard not to wonder if that’s your future too.
One day my heart might let me down. There’s the possibility that the repaired valve may wear out some day and I will need another surgery.
Every morning when I take those pills, I’m reminded that my heart is different. That I’m different.”
He tips my chin up until I’m looking at him. “I wish you could see what I saw last night, Lottie.” His eyes never leave mine. “A woman who survived. I saw the strongest person I’ve ever met. I didn’t see something that needed hiding. I saw proof that you’re still here.”
A tear escapes before I can stop it and Wes catches it with the pad of his thumb. “You know what I thought after that?”
I shake my head.
“How grateful I am that they did whatever they had to do.” His voice softens. “Because if they hadn’t…” He exhales slowly. “I never would’ve had the privilege of meeting you.”
The room falls silent again as I tuck myself closer against him, my cheek finding its place again over his heart.
For the first time, I’m with a man who makes me feel like the scar isn’t the loudest thing about me.
Wes has somehow made me believe it’s simply one chapter of my story instead of the headline.
Emotion swells in my throat so quickly that it catches me off guard. Wes rolls me onto my back, his gaze searching mine as though he’s committing every part of me to memory. His hand cups my jaw, then he’s kissing me with a quiet certainty.
I wrap my arms around his neck, tears still damp on my lashes, and kiss him back with everything I’ve got.
What is happening between us?
The question has followed me all day. It lingered while Wes insisted on carrying the shopping bags I’d repeatedly told him I could manage myself.
It settled between us as we wandered through Pine Ridge, ducking into little boutiques, splitting pastries from the bakery, and stopping every few blocks so Wes could kiss me.
We laughed. We teased. We held hands without either of us mentioning it. And every time he reached for me, every time his fingers found mine, the question only grew louder.
Truthfully, I’ve been wondering what’s been happening between us since the moment he told me he wanted to stop pretending with me. Since he looked at me and said, I want you, Lottie Hart.
I’ve tried to convince myself that I’m overthinking it.
He’d just gotten swept up in the moment.
In this place. But a pretend marriage isn’t supposed to make your heart race when the other person smiles at you across a coffee shop, and they’re not supposed to make you imagine what happens after the year is over.
By the time we walk back to our hotel room after dinner, I know I can’t keep pretending the question isn’t on the tip of my tongue.
“Wait,” I say suddenly, a little too loudly.
Wes turns to face me, and I take a deep breath, determined to get this out before I lose my nerve.
“I need to ask you something.”
“Okay,” he says, his fingers tightening in mine. “Do it.”
I press my lips together, drawing in a steadying breath. “What are we doing, Wes? This is real, isn’t it? We’re not pretending anymore, are we? At least…I think we’re not after what you said…”
I shake my head, feeling slightly stupid now for bringing it up. It’s dusk and the mountain air suddenly feels way too thin, and I wish that I could stuff all the words I just said back in my mouth.
“Peach.”
The way he says my nickname is so quiet, so full of emotion, it barely sounds like a word anymore. The uncertainty that’s been following me all day finally loosens its grip, and it feels like I’m not standing here alone.
I exhale.
This is real for him, too.
His hand rises to my cheek before slipping gently into my hair, drawing me closer until our foreheads nearly touch.
“I don’t know exactly when it stopped being fake for me,” he says quietly.
“Maybe it was after our first date or maybe it was the first time I kissed you. It might have even been when I realized I’d do just about anything to make you smile including play midnight therapy wine.
” He shakes his head, pulling me in a little tighter.
“But somewhere along the way, it happened. I haven’t been pretending for a long time. ”
I nod, blinking back the sting in my eyes.
“I’ve been trying to convince myself not to fall any harder,” he admits, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But it turns out it was too late. I was already there.”
He leans down and kisses me without urgency or hesitation, his lips lingering against mine, soft and unhurried, like he’s trying to tell me everything he hasn’t found the courage to say out loud.