“I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “But I still feel like I should say it.” He slides over and puts his arm around me.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. We’re all victims in this circumstance. I’m sorry you had to see that. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. I’m sorry your father saw it as well.” I rest my hand on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat.
“Where do we go from here?” I ask. He puts his hand under my chin and tilts my head up.
“I don’t know. But I know I want to go wherever it is with you. I want to marry you, Saige. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next year, but someday. I want to marry you and have children with you and call you my wife.” All of my breath leaves my body.
“I don’t know what to say.” Sylas does not seem like the marriage/children/picket fence kind of guy.
“You don’t have to say anything right now. I’m not asking. Just letting you know it’s coming. I want a life with you.” I want to cry again, but this time it’s happy tears.
“I want a life with you, too. I just never thought I would want this. Want normal things.” He laughs.
“Well, it won’t be normal. It will be our kind of normal. You’ll have skulls on your wedding dress and we’ll have weapons in the closet and we’ll spend our nights fucking in alleys and dancing in restaurants.” I like the sound of all of that.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says and then seals his mouth over mine.
Twenty-Seven
No longer crippled by my nightmare, but still having problems dealing with its implications, I take Sylas’ advice and go and see his therapist. She’s middle-aged, mild-mannered and I find myself spilling my guts to her. Well, almost all of my guts. I’m able to keep my illegal activities to myself, but everything else is open.
I come away from my first session feeling light and at peace. I enjoyed it much more than I thought I would.
Sylas moves the rest of his stuff into my place and I decide we need some new furniture items, so we go to a store and pick out a new couch and some more art pieces for the wall. He demands that we frame the drawing I made of his naked back and hang it in our bedroom, over my protestations.
As payback, I call Cash and invite the rest of the guys over for dinner and don’t tell Sylas. He’s been spending his days trying to figure out what he wants to do. He’ll spend some time at the library checking out new books, or on the computer researching college classes and he’s also signed up at the local learning annex for a few classes on different things. I’m so proud of him taking control of his life like this and I can tell he’s happy doing it.
But when he walks into the house and his friends are sitting around my dining table as I dish out slabs of lasagna, the smile fades. His eyes narrow.
“You are in so much trouble, Redhead,” he says and I know it’s the kind of trouble that means I’m going to be very satisfied in bed tonight. He can never seem to stay mad at me for very long. Our relationship is far from perfect, and we’re still working on our trust issues, but we’re getting there.
It takes until dessert before I finally win over Row and Hardy, but the chocolate cream pie I make from scratch finally does it.
“If you break his heart, we’ll break everything you own,” Row says, pointing at me with his fork. Hardy just nods in agreement because his mouth is full.
“Fair enough,” I say and Sylas jumps into defend me. The evening devolves into a lot of cursing and male posturing. I just sit back and watch. It’s a good thing I have a big (and sturdy) table and enough chairs for them all.
The night turns out well and we plan another one. Somehow, it turns into a weekly event and soon Lo joins us. It’s awkward introducing the guys and they have to be careful what they talk about when she’s around, but I see Cash watching her and she’s definitely giving him the eye.
I get a text from her about five minutes after she walks out the door begging me to tell her anything I can about him.
“It’s obvious when you think about it,” Sylas says, as if he knew they were going to get together all along. He says he did, but I think he’s a liar.
My relationship with my father is still on shaky ground. It’s going to take time to build it back to where it was. He’s kept his word about having the guys legitimately working for him and it’s turned out better than I think he expected. He’s had two more visits with Lizzy and someday we’re going to tell her that he’s her father. She definitely likes him, but then again, she likes everyone.
Now that I’m not working for Dad anymore, I can concentrate more on school. I decide I want to spend a few weeks abroad in Italy studying and Sylas is fully supportive of it and I want him to come with me.
I still have the nightmare, and now it’s in full color, with all the details intact. But Sylas is there when I wake up and I’m getting better at dealing with it. Therapy helps. Talking helps. I’ve accepted that I’ll probably always deal with this memory, but Sylas has to deal with the same thing and there’s comfort in that.
The two of us have been through so much in a few short months. From conning each other, to pretending to be in love, to actually being in love, to becoming a couple. It’s fast and it’s confusing and it’s so, so right.
I never question whether I belong with Sylas. We were meant to find each other, one way or another. Our path was littered with pain and blood, but somehow we got to the good part. The happy.
“Luck,” he’ll say when we talk about how we got together.
“Fate,” I argue back. It’s something we’ll never agree on, but fighting about it is fun and always ends up with the two of us being naked.
I start looking at apartments and I definitely want one with at least two bedrooms. I would love for Lizzy to come and stay with us overnight since Sylas doesn’t have to protect her like he used to. He’s considering moving her to a facility that’s closer, but she’s settled there, so he’s going to wait and see how she feels about it.
I’m clicking on a new listing when Sylas walks through the door. I minimize the window and get up to give him a hello kiss.
“So, I’ve decided.”
“Decided?” I ask, rubbing my palm along his newly growing beard. I’ve begged him to grow one just to see what it looks like and he’s humoring me, at least for now.
“What I’m going to do with my life.”
“And?” He’s been very cagey about what his interests are and I find it amusing that he doesn’t want to tell me.
He holds up a hand.
“Wait here.” He goes back out the door and comes back, something behind his back. I can see what it is before he shows it to me.
“A guitar?” I ask.
“A guitar. My mother played and I always wanted to. So I’ve been taking classes and it just feels… right.” I’m getting emotional and I bite my lip to stop myself from falling over the edge and losing it.
“Like fate,” I say and he rolls his eyes.
“Like I have a talent and I’m lucky to have it and I should be using it.” I sigh and he goes to the couch and takes out the guitar. He strums a few chords with so much ease, I’m suspicious.
“Are you sure you’ve only been learning for a few weeks?” I ask. He starts to play a little tune I don’t recognize.
“Yes, but I used to watch my mother play and maybe some of that just stuck with me. I don’t know. Anyway, I was wondering what you were doing tonight.” I narrow my eyes, but he just gives me a smile that says he’s got something up his sleeve.
“I don’t know, why don’t you tell me what I’m doing?” I ask with a sweet smile.
“You’re coming to see me play at the coffee house. Our coffee house.” I squeal with glee and throw myself at him, but the guitar is in the way. He puts it aside as I kiss him all over his face.