“Of course, I mean that. I love you, Lucy. I realized it weeks ago, but I wasn’t sure you felt the same, and I didn’t want to pressure you. Maybe I thought you would think it was lip service because we were set to be married anyway, and I was trying to make it easier by saying I cared. Maybe I was scaredthat you wouldn’t feel the same way. But then, you were taken from me, and I realized I should have told you every single day. You deserved to know how you make my life worth living, how you light up my world, and how the thought of spending one day apart from you makes my stomach hurt. You are everything I never knew I always needed. You, Lucy Remington, are my whole world. I love you now, and I will love you until I take my last breath. If you’ll have me, that’s where I’ll be, by your side. For now, and always.”
There.
I did it.
I poured out my soul to the woman I loved, and now it was up to her whether she was willing to accept my love. Even if she didn’t, I knew I couldn’t stop my heart from loving her.
“Oh, Preston.” Lucy’s voice trembled. “I love you so much.” Those words had my heart soaring, but I allowed her to continue. “All I could think in that room was that if something had already happened to you, or if I didn’t make it out, I’d never have the chance to tell you. That would have been the greatest regret of my life, not telling you how I felt. Our love story almost became a tragedy before we even got a chance to write it. We get a second chance, and I don’t want to waste it here, surrounded by these bad memories.”
Dropping my forehead to hers, I kissed her softly. Pulling my lips away, I said against hers, “It’s you and me. From here on out.”
I felt the smile creep onto her lips. “Just us?”
Laughing for the first time in weeks, I confirmed, “Just us.”
Just us was all I would ever need.
Epilogue
Lucy
Five Months Later
“Where are we going?”I asked Preston as we sped through the streets of Manhattan in a sporty silver coupe.
Grabbing my hand from across the center console, his eyes never left the busy roads before us. “It’s a surprise.”
Laughing, happier than I’d ever been in my life, I teased, “That doesn’t always promise to be a good thing.”
“Don’t worry, Princess, you’re going to love it.”
I could hardly believe there was a time in my life when Preston calling me Princess had grated on my nerves like hearing nails on a chalkboard. I’d hated it more than anything in this world.
Now, I loved it. It made me feel safe and loved.
Hemade me feel safe and loved.
His unwavering support during some of my darkest days was the only reason I was still standing.
After the disaster of Amy and Liam’s wedding, my family was forced to abandon the idea of a state wedding for me and Preston. The morning following our declarations of love in the dead of night, we packed up, left Belleston, and hadn’t returned since. Maybe someday, I could walk the halls of my childhood home and not be haunted by the memories of what happened there, but it wouldn’t be anytime soon.
My mom was the first to step in, supporting my wishes, and immediately began searching for alternatives. With the new studio I decided to launch in New York, we settled on having the ceremony at Trinity Church on Wall Street. It was intimate, with immediate family only, and the best part was that the press had no clue.
Being away from Belleston turned out to be the best thing for me, and Preston was the one to suggest settling part-time in America. It was comforting to know my brother and sisters-in-law—along with my nieces and nephews—were only a short drive away. It was like having a little piece of home away from home, and they provided the support system I desperately needed while I mentally recovered from my trauma.
I was living the fashion designer life I always dreamt of, and as of thirty minutes ago, I was now Mrs. Preston Scott. We would, of course, be bestowed with new titles as a married couple by my grandfather, but my title as Preston’s wife would be the one I cherish most.
I asked my mom this morning why she suggested Preston to Grandfather as the perfect match for me—bloodlines and birth order aside—and she told me that it always made her smile when Preston would ruffle my feathers when we were children. She knew I would grow up to be a strong, independent woman andwould need an equally strong man to challenge me and know exactly when to put me in my place.
If only she really knew.
No matter how it happened, I could only thank her for knowing what was best for me, even when I couldn’t see it for myself.
Preston pulled the car up to a valet in front of a building in the Upper East Side, exiting the driver’s side before rounding and opening my door, giving me his hand, and helping me out. Even in the busy New York street, I couldn’t resist pressing my lips to his. These lips belonged to me, and I craved them constantly.
Escorting me to the double doors held open by a doorman, I looked at Preston, confused, as we entered what looked like an apartment building’s lobby. “Where are we?”
Smirking, he walked me toward the elevator, hitting the button and calling it to the ground floor. “You’ll see.”
