Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
And married to the love of my life.
My son, who’s eight now, tilts his head back to stare at the house. “This is where you lived?” His fingers tighten around mine, a protective gesture he definitely learned from his father.
My daughter is two, and stubborn as sin, lets out a delighted squeal from Lorenzo’s arms and points at the vines crawling up the columns.
“Jungle?” she announces.
Lorenzo shifts her higher against his chest.
“It’s not a jungle.” I laugh.
Lorenzo’s mouth curls into a grin. “Just no one took care of it.” His eyes sweep the property. “Good thing Mommy likes living in the underworld, or she’d have to clean this mess.”
My son blinks. “Dad, what’s the underworld?”
Lorenzo’s expression doesn’t change, but I know he wants to laugh. Good luck coming up with something to say.
“It’s where people go when they don’t eat their vegetables,” he answers with absolute calm.
My son’s eyes widen. “That’s real?”
“Terrifyingly,” Lorenzo confirms, shifting our daughter again as she attempts to gnaw on his jacket zipper. “Eat your broccoli.”
My daughter (who is apparently my husband’s daughter) chooses violence and bites his shoulder through the fabric.
Lorenzo doesn’t even flinch. He just stares down at her with the resigned patience of a man who’s survived assassins.
“Ah,” he playfully responds, voice thick with fake tragedy. “I’ve been stabbed.”
She giggles. A future criminal in the making.
I press my lips together, trying not to smile. It doesn’t work. The smile creeps in anyway. These kids will always have me wrapped around their fingers.
We keep walking through the garden until we find what I’m looking for: the boathouse.
Despite everything, it still stands.
It shouldn’t.
But somehow, it’s weathered all the storms.
Like us.
We open the door and step inside. As soon as I’m inside, I’m transported back through time to earlier days and first kisses.
I walk straight to the wall, reaching my hand out when I find what I’m looking for.
My fingers stop before I even touch it. The carved initials are faded but still visible, a wound that never fully healed.
V + L
Crooked. Messy.
Cut into the wood deep.
To last a lifetime.
My throat tightens as my fingers trace the old cut in the wood.
Memories slam into me so hard I almost stumble.
Seventeen. Barefoot. Laughing too loud.
Lorenzo young and reckless.
Now I stand here with two children and the man he became. The man who buried bodies for me in an attempt to stitch my soul back together.
And he did.
I exhale.
My son tilts his head up. “Is this where you fell in love?”
Lorenzo slowly turns his head toward me, eyes fierce with undying love. “This is where our story started.”
My chest aches. This was our place. The beginning. The first chapter.
And now, standing here with the people I love most in the world, this place feels like closure.
Lorenzo steps closer. His free hand wraps around my waist, fingers warm through my shirt. He tilts his head, studying my face like he’s memorizing it all over again. “Do you ever regret it?”
My breath catches.
“Do you?” I respond.
We both know what he’s asking . . .
What I’m asking.
The estate.
The war.
The fear.
The years in hiding.
The blood on his hands.
I meet his eyes. “Not for a second,” I answer.
His brow tightens. “Not even the worst parts? Not even . . . what I did? What I became?”
My chest aches.
I lift my hand and press my palm against his cheek.
I smile. “Especially the worst parts,” I whisper. “I’ll never regret those parts.”
His eyes darken, not with hunger, but with something deeper, something grateful.
He exhales like he’s been underwater for years and just surfaced.
We thought love ruined us. Turns out it saved us instead.
Together, we step out of the boathouse.
Our son races ahead as our daughter squirms in Lorenzo’s arms, wanting to run after him.
Then I tilt my head toward the ruined estate, then toward the water, and last toward the open sky.
Thankful for every challenge that we had to overcome because without them . . .
We wouldn’t be here.
Together.
Forever.