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Inside is a crib. The bookcases are gone. Light streams through the gorgeous French windows and skates across the wooden floors. The room smells clean, of wood polish and the scent of flowers that surround us.
“Carter,” I say, unable to get my emotions out.
“You’re not ready to move in with me yet,” he says, “and that’s fine. I want you to be comfortable and take as much time as you need, but I need you to know that I am in this, Hannah. One hundred percent. The only reason I didn’t buy anything else for this room, and trust me, it’s killing me not to, is because I want us to decorate it together. I want you to have whatever you want for our baby. I want us to go all in.”
My heart feels like it's going to burst. I can’t believe this.
“And don’t worry about the other books and bookcases, I put them in the master bedroom for now. When we’re ready, we’ll build on another room.”
“Carter, I can’t even process this,” I whisper. “This is amazing. You’re amazing.”
“I will do anything to make you happy, Hannah. What else can I do to show you how much I care?”
I wrap my arms around his middle and squeeze, resting my head against his muscular chest. “There’s nothing else you can do. You’ve done everything. You— You saved my life twice, you’ve given me hope again, and you just— you?—”
He takes my chin in his hand and tilts my head upward, looking me directly in the eyes. “You saved me, Hannah. Without even meaning to. Without even trying. Every laugh, every look, just the way you move through this world saved my life. When I was in my darkest times, your smiling face saved me, when you didn’t even know I cared. I tried so hard to avoid this moment because I was scared. But if I’ve learned anything about you and me, it’s that we’re inevitable,” he says. “We’re meant to happen. And I’m not going to fucking fight it any more, because I don’t want to. The only thing I’m going to fight for is you. And our child.”
He swipes the tears away from my face and kisses my cheeks, then my lips.
“When you’re ready, Hannah, please move in with me.”
“Yes,” I whisper. “Yes.”
“Yes, you’ll move in with me?”
“I will.”
His face lights up, and I love it. I love how beautiful his smile is, and that he saves it specifically for me. He kisses me, and I melt in his arms. This is it, this is what I’ve always wanted. I don’t know what the future will bring, but I know that I want it to be with him.
Forty-Eight
SAVAGE
She’s mine.
Hannah is mine, and there isn’t a damn thing anyone can do to take her away from me. I will have her for the rest of my life, protect her and keep her, and fucking worship the grounds she walks on. But while I feel like I’ve been gifted a perfect future, I can’t help thinking that Hannah had at least a portion of hers taken away.
I meet Hannah at her old apartment on a sunny morning—she’s fully moved out as of today—and sweep her into my arms the minute she’s handed the key back to her landlord.
Hannah laughs and grasps my shoulders, throwing her head back, and she’s the most beautiful woman in the world. I put her down, grab her packed bag, and lift it onto the back seat of my car. I open the passenger side door for Hannah.
I get in beside her, but I don’t start the car yet.
It’s a Sunday morning, and we have a couple of hours to kill before her grandmother’s pot luck.
I turn to Hannah and study her. I’m not sure when I realized I was in love with this woman, or if it’s just something that’s always been there, waiting below the surface for me to get my shit together.
When I look at her, she has this indescribable quality. A beauty that radiates from the inside out. It’s like I can see all the different shades of who she is—the red of her passion for kids, for us, for life or the pink of her cheeks when she’s looking at me. The past and the present mesh together and make her into this complete, loveable woman.
“Carter?” she asks.
“Hmm.”
“You’re staring.”
“I know,” I say, and laugh. “Open the glovebox and grab the envelope inside, will you?”
“Sure.” She takes the envelope out then frowns at her name, which I’ve written across the front in slashing letters. “What’s this?”
