Страница 84 из 108
"You won't."
Sand flew up as I ran, and I didn’t stop until my bare toes hit the ice-cold shoreline, and a wave crashed against my ankles. My eyes slammed closed, hoarding tears that shouldn’t fall.
Then Ollie’s chest rested against my back as our fingers intertwined. “Now, love,” he whispered into my ear from behind. “Now, open your eyes.”
I blinked my eyes opened, and tears fell freely. Each one for everything we’d been through to get us here. The darkness. The torment. The death. One by one, they slipped over my cheeks as Ollie wrapped his arms around me. The water swimming between my feet was a reminder that this world was so much bigger than Dolor and the miseries of our past. Undiscovered moments, untraveled territories, an entire journey laid out ahead of us for the taking. We’d made it this far but would never forget where we came from or who we met along the way.
It was October 10th, 2020.
Ten-ten-twenty-twenty.
Jake had everything under control, and no matter how many times I silently repeated this to myself, it didn’t ease the nerves working against my bloodstream. Ollie and Liam had kept themselves busy yesterday as Jake and I went dress shopping. “You have to wear a dress, Mia. You’re not an animal for crying out loud,” had been his exact words when I’d told him I was good with a shirt and jeans. And I’d bought one against my better judgment, hoping not to be overdressed for the occasion and having no idea what I’d see Ollie in once we would arrive.
My reflection stared back at me in the mirror as Jake played with my hair, taking maid of honor roll into a whole other level. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” I asked, music playing from my phone somewhere over the dresser, hiding among the makeup and tools he was using.
“Shhh …” he said, patting the top of my head. “You’re distracting the artist.”
“Artist is pushing it.”
Jake twirled the desk chair around, turning me away from the mirror. “No more looking. You’ll see when I’m done.”
As soon as a groan left me, a knock sounded over the hotel room door.
Jake dropped the wand over the dresser and told me to sit tight with a finger out in front of him. “And don’t look,” he added before disappearing. The door opened, and Jake let out a squeal, coming back into the room. “Okay, I’m officially with the wrong bloke,” he gushed, and in his arms was a bouquet of origami roses with burlap and a light pink ribbon tied around the wooden stems. My heart jumped inside my chest, and I fought back the happy tears threatening to ruin my mascara.
Jake examined the roses. “What book are these from?”
Struggling to breathe, I plucked a rose from the bouquet, and my eyes landed over Ollie’s poetry. “It’s our love story.”
Jake handed me a note, and a tear escaped from the corner of my eye as I opened it.
Mia,
I know what you’re thinking, but no … it’s not our love story …
With blurry vision, I let out a small chuckle.
This is everything I’ve written since the day I met you. You give me so much love and life, my heart could never be big enough to contain it. So, I bleed onto paper, call it crimson love. Call it poetic. But it’s not our love story, because my love for you never ends. You and I, we’ve been rooted since the begi You are my sunrise, love. I’m telling you this now because I’m afraid I’ll have no words the next time I see you. I’ve spent these last few months filling every promise I’d made to you so that way, as I write the following words, you have the belief they’re not empty. I promise always to be the man worthy of every second spent in your presence. To be worthy of your smiles, triumphs, kisses, and yes, even tears. Thank you for making the dreamer in me never want to sleep again … Evermore, Ollie I released a long breath through trembling lips, unable to hold on any longer. I had to see him. It had been a little over twelve hours, and Jake placed rules my heart couldn’t take. “No, no, no … Stop!” Jake insisted, holding out his arms to the sides. “Mia Rose, you will not ruin this for me!” Pulling my hands over my face, I wiped the tears as Jake growled, pulling tissue after tissue from a box. “I knew it. As soon as I saw that letter, I bloody knew it …” he continued to mutter as he blotted the tissue under my eyes. “There, and no more happy tears. You’ll see the man in an hour. Then you can cry all the fuck you want.” A little over an hour later, Jake and I stood in front of the floor-length mirror attached behind the closet door in the hotel room as his fingers kept touching my hair. “Jake, he’s waiting,” I whined, bouncing over the carpet barefoot. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” The dress was a mix between bohemian and beachy, with lace detail down to the floor. What took Jake over an hour on my hair could’ve taken me ten minutes, my locks framing my face in semi-natural waves. The makeup, however, was impressive. I’d never known how to use the tools, and Jake applied heavy eyes with bronze cheekbones and rose-pink lips. My freckles still shining through the light blush. “One last thing,” Jake disappeared as I admired his work, “ah, here it is.” He appeared behind me and fitted a flower crown over my head. “Absolute perfection.” “I don’t even know what to say.” Shocked could never cover it, I was gobsmacked. “I never thought I’d ever look like this, or even be standing here in a white dress. I’m getting married. This psychopath is getting married,” I spun around, “I don’t deserve this, Zeke. I don’t deserve him. This is too much,” I rambled, freak-out mode setting in. Jake crossed his arms, smiling. “Why are you smiling? What’s so fu Both of his palms landed on my shoulders. “You just called me Zeke.” I shook my head. “No, I didn’t.” “Yeah, you did.” My fingers grabbed my temples, massaging circles as I paced the room. “I’m officially losing it.” “Mia, listen to me. You calling me Zeke means you feel him. He’s here, ready to watch you marry Oliver fucking Masters. Do you really want to disappoint Zeke?” “You think so? He’s here?” “Of course, he’s here. He’s the one walking you down the aisle.”
Mia was late, but it could be because of Jake. Liam kept reminding me of that every five minutes in hopes of lifting the nerves off my shoulders, but it didn’t help. Memories from six months ago, waiting outside the gates of Dolor for her to meet me, wouldn’t leave. The memories only tormented me. The three of us stood beside the Rock of Gibraltar over the white sand, the ocean as our witness. There were no chairs, no music, no family—only Liam, Christy, and me, waiting for Mia and Jake to arrive. Christy was the lady marrying us, with short blonde hair, wearing a conservative pink dress. She wasn’t a local, and I only knew this because I couldn’t stop asking her questions about herself to take my mind off the time. Christy got married in this exact spot four years ago and never left Gibraltar. “This is the same spot John Le
