Page 77 of Enchanted to Meet You

Tears blurred my vision completely. “You... you loved me?”

“I have been drowning in you for four years,” Rhys said. He closed the final inch between us, standing directly in front of me. “Ever since the first day I saw you cheering Sebastian on at a Parkhurst-Crofton game. I loved the way you yelled at the top of your lungs and cheered as loud as you could for him. I loved the way you blasted your music with the window wide open all summer. I loved the way you defended your family above all else, especially to me. And I loved that you never let me get away with anything, you always called me out on stuff. I loved that you’ve always been so authentically, unapologetically you.”

A warmth spread through my chest, up my neck, my cheeks. “You’re lying,” I said, but my voice had no conviction in it. We both knew he was telling the truth.

“The reason I wanted a fake relationship, the whole reason I came up with that stupid, desperate plan... was because when I saw you needed help, I saw a crack in the door. I knew it was wrong. I knew it was selfish. But I was so in love with you that I thought it might kill me to not even get the chance to try.”

“That’s why Landon was so excited when he saw us in the closet,” I realized. “He thought we’d finally started dating.”

“Every fake touch was real to me. Every time I held your hand, every time I kissed your cheek, every time I looked at you like you were the only girl in the world—it wasn’t an act, Ainsley. Not to me. It was the only time I was ever truly breathing.”

He reached out, his hands shaking slightly and cradled my face. His palms were warm against my tear-stained cheeks, his thumbs gently brushing away the wetness under my eyes.

“I love you,” Rhys whispered, his forehead leaning down until it rested against mine, his breath hot and sweet against my lips. “I love you so much that it scares me. I don’t care if the whole world thinks I’m out of my mind. I am yours, Ainsley, if you’ll have me.”

The world seemed to stop spinning. The aching, heavy weight that had sat in my chest for months—the fear of being second best, the fear of being an option, the constant belief that I was just a substitute for some unnamed ghost in his past—shattered into a million pieces.

There was no ghost. There was no other girl.

It had always been me.

“You idiot,” I sobbed, a laugh bursting through the tears as I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling myself up to him. “You absolute idiot.”

“Yeah,” he breathed against my mouth, a soft, breathless smile touching his lips. “I know.”

And then he kissed me.

He pulled me flush against his body, his arm wrapping around my waist with a fierce strength that almost lifted me right off my feet. I tangled my fingers in the short hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. His lips were warm and soft against mine, firm and patient. They moved fast and slow all at once, like they were memorizing this moment, savoring every second of it.

Behind us, the hallway was silent. When he finally pulled back, just a fraction, his chest was heaving, his lips flushed and parted. He rested his cheek against mine, holding me so tight I couldn’t tell where my heartbeat ended and his began.

“Don’t ever fake it again,” I whispered into his ear, my voice thick with emotion.

Rhys let out a shaky, quiet laugh, kissing the skin just beneath my ear. “Never again, sweetheart. From now on, it’s all real.”

Slowly, I let my feet touch the floor, though I didn’t let go of his waist. I turned, still wrapped in his arm, to look at my family.

Lavender was wiping her eyes, a massive, tearful smile spreading across her face. Imogen was leaning against the elevator frame, clutching her chest, looking like she’d just watched the climax of her favorite romance movie.

And Sebastian.

He was leaning against the opposite wall, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, staring at the floor. The defensive, intense anger was gone, replaced by a deep, weary realization. He looked up, his eyes moving from Rhys’s arm locked firmly around my waist, to my face—flushed, glowing, and happier than I’d looked in a year—and finally to Rhys.

“Four years?” Sebastian asked quietly, his voice heavy with the realization.

“Four years,” Rhys answered honestly, keeping his hand firmly planted on my hip.

Sebastian swallowed hard. He looked at me, his eyes softening as the last of his protective armor crumbled away. He let out a long, exhausted sigh, shaking his head.

“You’re an idiot, Montgomery,” Sebastian muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he let out a breath that was half-disbelief, half-acceptance. He took a step toward the elevator, pausing right in front of us. He looked at Rhys for a long moment, then at me. “If you break her heart... we’re going to have a very different conversation.”

“If I break her heart,” Rhys said steadily, “you won’t have to. I’ll do it myself.”

Sebastian looked at us for one more second, then let out a faint, reluctant huff that was almost a smile. He stepped into the elevator, holding the door open for us.

“Are you two coming,” Sebastian said, “or are you going to keep making out in the hospital hallway?”

I laughed, a bright, clear sound that felt completely foreign after the dark morning we’d had. I looked up at Rhys, who was staring down at me with a look of pure, undivided adoration.