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“That doesn’t make you sick, Grace. That makes you strong.” He kisses me again and then stands up and walks out of the plunge pool. My body gets heavy and I immediately want nothing more than to get back in the water and hide underneath its soothing surface.

Vaughn walks us over to the edge of the river, grabbing a towel from the little cabana as he goes. He tosses it down on the concrete edge and then places me on top of it. My leg hurts a little now and my clothes are sticking to me. “Lift up your arms.”

I do as I’m told and he peels off the man-sized white t-shirt. My nipples are erect and hard, my breasts firm and taut. I look up at my husband and he’s shirtless too. I watch his fingers as he unbuttons his jeans, kicks off his shoes, and then drops his pants. It takes both hands to get the heavy wet denim to cooperate and when he’s finally standing there naked, he puts his arms out and says, “This is me.”

And then he reaches down for my hand, like he wants to pull me to my feet. I hesitate because of the pain it will take to stand up. But then I decide to trust him and place my hand in his.

He pulls me up and I manage to keep the weight off my bad leg and just balance on the good one. Vaughn holds me steady for a second, and then he takes my hand and places it on his thickly muscled bicep. “Hold tight,” he says.

I do.

And then his fingers unbutton my shorts and he tugs on them for several seconds, rocking the sopping wet fabric over my hips until they plop to the ground.

He steps back a little and I let go of his arm.

I put my arms out like he did and say, “This is me.”

I’m pulled back into an embrace and I notice everything about this moment.

The sun is warm. The wind floats past my wet body, making it cool. There’s a bird singing a sweet song on a branch above our heads.

His heart beats fast. Mine beats faster.

His lips touch my ear so softly I shudder.

“This,” he says, “is us.”

Chapter Two

#MyVersion

“I
KNOW
you don’t remember the wedding, Grace. But it was pretty special.”

“How special could it have been?” she murmurs against my chest. “We were drunk.”

“We weren’t that drunk, I swear.” I scoop her up in my arms. She draws in a breath and I know the leg is bothering her, so I lean down and kiss her head. “Let me tell you all about it. How’s that? Do you want to hear what happened?”

“Yes,” she says softly.

I carry her over to the river and set her back down on the towel. “I’ll tell you the whole story as we float down the river naked. Deal?”

I get a smile from her at that suggestion. It starts small, just a slight lift, but then her eyes dart to the river and I can almost see her picturing it. Her smile grows.

I walk over to the pool shed and search around until I find a floating cabana with a sun shade on it. I pump it up since it’s probably been years since I’ve used this thing, and then take it outside and set it down in the loading area of the lazy river.

“Ready to hear all about your fairytale wedding?”

She’s shielding her eyes from the sun as she looks up at me. “Oh God, I’m not sure. Was I really drunk and stupid?”

I carry her over to the river and walk down the steps. “Baby,” I say, placing her on the raft, “I get that you were drunk. But please believe me—what I saw that night was nothing but perfection. I didn’t take any pictures. Not because I didn’t want to, but because you were so stunning in that dress, all rational thought just left the building.”

“What dress? I didn’t have a dress.”

“You did,” I insist as I climb next to her. “I swear. Now settle, sweets. And let me tell you all about it.” She squirms around a little, wincing from the pain in her leg, and then she places her hand over my heart and exhales.

That exhale says everything.

It says she trusts me. It says she loves me. It says she’s ready. She might not know it yet, but I do. She’s ready to move on. Those eight months Daisy spent as a captive changed her. And while I’m certainly not looking to change her back, I would like to change her forward.

“Ready?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“OK, this is exactly how it happened…”

“I’m yours,” Grace says as she wraps her legs around my middle. “I’m yours.”

I ease into her and I can feel her thighs as they grip me. Begging for me. Begging for me to fuck her harder. But I don’t want it to be hard tonight. I’ve had her hard and rough but I haven’t had her slow and sweet. And that’s what I’m craving right now.

She moans in my ear, so low it’s almost undetectable. Her hands are on my head, fingers threading through my hair. Her breath brushes my neck, sweeping across my skin in short bursts that match the heaving of her breasts against my chest.

“Come for me, sweets. Come for me.”

Her grip tightens.

“Come,” I encourage her again. “And I’ll come with you.” I flip over on my back and position her on top of me. My hands grip her hips, moving her back and forth as I thrust upwards. She moans louder. Her hands are on my chest, propping herself up, but with each thrust her resolve weakens until finally she is pressed against me. Our bodies are sweating from the sex, and the heat of our desire, and the strength of our emotion.

My fingers find her asshole and her upper body awakens once more, shooting up. Her head falls back. her mouth open. Her soft moans turn to screams.

We come together.

I come inside her, my hot semen spilling out in waves as her pussy clamps against my cock, and I grab her hair and yank her back down on top of me so I can bite her shoulder. “Mine,” is all I can manage. It’s primitive, but I don’t give a fuck. This girl is mine.

“Yours,” she moans back. “Make me yours.”

Fuck. Fuck. I pull her hair harder, wrapping my hands around her head in a way that leaves no doubt that I want to possess her. Completely.

Our hearts race against each other and we stay this way. Still. Silent. Satiated.

I trace my fingertips up and down her spine and every time I get to the small of her back, she bucks. That makes me smile so big. It makes me happy in a way I’m not sure I can describe. “Do you like it like this, Grace?”

“Yes,” she whispers and then bites my neck. “Yes. Like that, please. More.”

“More, and more, and more.”

“Forever. Happily ever after.”

“Baby, don’t tease me. I’ll give you forever if want it.”

“I need forever so bad.”

“Then marry me—”

“Wait.” Grace stops me with a hand on my chest. “That’s it? You asked me post-coital and I just said yes?”

“Shhhh.” I hush her with a finger to her lips. “Just listen.”

“—Grace. I have never felt this sure of something in my whole life. Ever. You, baby. You are the secret to life. You are my reason for being. You are my soulmate. We are tethered by a string. Some mystical string that connects us and has connected us since our inception. And the day I saw your sandaled foot step out of that dingy airport shuttle, I knew. You were my other half. It’s the only explanation for how I feel about you. And I tried to deny it. Tried to prove to myself that this arrangement with you was… ordinary.”

I flip us over one more time so I can be on top again. I prop myself up on my forearms and let my hands fall gently along each of her cheeks. I stroke her softly, my thumb arcing back and forth across her soft skin. I devour her with my eyes. “What we have is so far from ordinary, Grace. It’s not a connection. It’s a reconnection. I need you to understand that and I really don’t have the words to describe what you mean to me right now. But even though my expression is inadequate, please believe me. You’re mine. That’s all there is to it. And if you need me to make that declaration permanent, then marry me.”

She stares up at me and her breath hitches like she might start crying at any moment.

“Just marry me.”

“And that makes it… forever?” Her brows knit together in confusion.

I can see her point. Why would marriage change things? “No, baby. That’s not what makes it forever. The forever between us? It just is.” I lean down and kiss her on the lips. Our tongues tangle for a second and then they do more than that. Her fingers push through my hair and she flattens her palm against my head in her own version of possessiveness. “There’s no paper or vow in this world that can surpass what the universe has declared to be true.”

She swallows hard and that makes me smile, because it proves that she’s taking me seriously. I’m spewing all this metaphysical bullshit about fate and souls and ties that bind.

And she’s in.

“We just are. And that’s the end of it. We don’t need a marriage to make that true. It’s the laws of physics, baby. It’s under God and there’s no death do us part in any of this, Grace. Because we defy—”

“Oh my God,” she laughs. “You did not say all that shit!”

“Shit? I’m offended.”

But we both laugh.

“It’s pretty good though, huh? I mean, most of that is true. I was just a little too drunk that night to gather all those words into the same speech. But that’s what I meant.”

Chapter Three

#NextStep

I
HAVE
this stupid grin on my face and no matter how hard I try, I can’t make it go away. Vaughn Asher is such a bullshitter. But it’s so fucking adorable I almost die. Fate and souls and ties that tether us through eternity. That’s what he meant. I giggle and he pokes me in the ribs, making me squirm. “Stop,” I laugh. “You’re so full of it.”

“I’m not,” he says. “I really mean all that shit. And even though I didn’t really say it that night, I’m saying it now.”

“OK, whatever. All I want to hear about is the dress. And did I at least eat cake?”

“Sweets, we were invited down to the Bellagio bakery. You got to taste everything. You dipped your newly wedded fingers into frosted cupcakes that were so pretty and perfect they looked fake.”

“Stop. How do I know what’s true if you keep lying?”

He sighs. I know what that means. He’s disappointed that I don’t remember. “You will remember, Grace. I have faith. You had a dress, but I’m not gonna tell you about it because it was so beautiful and perfect you won’t believe me.” He sighs again and then he turns his head so he can gaze at me sidelong. “I can’t do it justice. You need to see it in your own memories.”

“But where is it? I was wearing a little white cotton nightie when I woke up. Did I get married in that?”

“No,” he says sadly.

God, it hurts me that my memory lapse is affecting him so hard.

“No, we picked that out from the lingerie shop. Carl was with us.” He laughs at that and so do I. I’m not sure why. “Poor Carl. I bet he gets a fat raise for putting up with me that night. I made him open the pool—”

“The pool?”

“I’m not saying another word. If you don’t remember, you don’t deserve to hear it from me. But you did demand a hundred underwater candles.”

“What?”

“One hundred. And you wanted to count them.” He laughs a little harder at that one.

“I don’t even know what an underwater candle is.”