Chapter 13
For five long weeks Sheila tried futilely to get the image of Noah Wilder out of her mind. It had been an impossible task. Everywhere on the estate she was reminded of him and the bittersweet love they had shared. There wasn’t a room in the château where she could hide from him or the memories of the nights of surrendered passion they had shared together. She couldn’t even find solace in her own room, the sanctuary where they had held each other dear until the first stirrings of dawn. Now the room seemed pale and empty, and Sheila was alone. She attempted to convince herself that she never had really loved him, that what they had shared was only a passing fancy, an affair to forget. It was a bald-faced lie, and she couldn’t deceive herself for a minute. She had loved Noah Wilder with a passion time and deceit couldn’t erase. She loved him still.
The winery had become a ghost town. Reconstruction of the west wing had been halted by one fell stroke: an executive order from Ben Wilder himself. Gone was the whine of whirring saw blades consuming wood, vanished were the shouts and laughter from the construction crew. The air was untainted with the smell of burning diesel or the scent of freshly cut lumber. The west wing of the winery was as defeated as her dreams.
Sheila had tried, ineffectively, to tell Emily about Noah. As comfortingly as possible she had mentioned that Noah and Sean wouldn’t be back to Cascade Valley as they had originally planned and that her marriage to Noah would probably never happen. If Sheila had hoped not to wound her child, she had failed miserably. Emily was heartbroken. When Sheila had explained that she doubted if Noah and Sean would return to the winery, Emily had burst into tears, screamed that it was all her mother’s fault and raced from the dinner table to hide in her room. It had taken several hours for Sheila to get through to her and calm her down. The child had sobbed on her shoulder bitterly, and it was difficult for Sheila to hold back the tears stinging the backs of her eyes.
Part of Emily’s reaction was due to incredibly bad timing. The girl had just returned from a dismal trip to visit her father, a vacation that was to have lasted a week and was cut down to five regretful days. It seemed as if Jeff and his wife, Judith, just didn’t have the time or the inclination to take care of a busy eight-year-old. Emily felt rejected not only by her father but by Noah as well.
The final blow to Sheila’s pride had come from a local banker she had dealt with for years. Regardless of the winery’s past record, Mr. Stinson couldn’t justify another loan to Cascade Valley. It had no reflection on Sheila, but the winery just didn’t qualify. There was simply not enough collateral to back up a quarter of a million dollars of the bank’s money. He was kind and told her that he would talk to his superiors, although he was sure that her request was next to impossible. There was a distinct note of inflexibility in his even voice.
Sheila found it increasingly difficult to sit idle. Time seemed to be slipping by without purpose or meaning. Within a few short weeks Emily would be enrolled in the fall semester of school and the autumn harvest of grapes would be ripe. Sheila had no alternative but to sell the crop despite Dave Jansen’s protests. He was convinced that this was the best year Cascade Valley had seen in a decade. The yield per acre was ten percent better than the previous year’s, and the grapes held the highest sugar and acid content he had seen in several years. All in all it looked like a bumper crop. But Sheila had no choice. She was backed into a corner by Ben Wilder and his son.
She sighed wearily and ran her fingers through her hair as she picked up the telephone and dialed the number of Mid-Columbia Bank. A cheery receptionist put Sheila through to Jim Stinson. Sheila could envision the perplexed look of dismay that must have crossed his features when he learned that she was calling. He probably wanted to avoid this conversation as much as she did.
“Good afternoon, Sheila,” Jim greeted heartily. “How’ve you been? Busy, I’ll bet.”
Sheila was taken aback at his friendly response to her call. “It’s about that time of the year,” she agreed.
“How’s the construction going?” Jim asked good-naturedly. “Are you going to get the west wing finished before harvest?”
Sheila choked on her response. Jim, better than most people, knew of her plight, and it wasn’t like him to rub salt into a wound. He actually sounded as if he thought she were running the winery as she had planned. “I can’t do that, Jim, because construction has stopped on the west wing.”
There was a moment’s hesitation before Jim laughed. “Is this some kind of a joke? Haven’t you begun to rebuild yet?”
“As a matter of fact, no. I was hoping that Mid-Columbia would give me a loan, remember?”
“But that was before you got your other loan.”
Once again silence.
“Other loan?” What the devil was Jim talking about? He wasn’t usually one to talk in circles.
He acted as if she were incredibly dense. “You know, the quarter of a mil.”
“The loan I requested from you.”
She heard an exasperated sigh. “Just a minute.” She was put on hold for a minute and then he was on the phone again. “Is there some mistake?”
Before she could ask what in the world he was muttering about, he spoke again. “Nocno, everything looks right. You do know that a deposit of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars was made to the winery’s account on the thirtieth of August, don’t you?”
Sheila’s mind was reeling, her voice faint. “What deposit?” she asked.
“Let’s seecit was a cashier’s check drawn on Consolidated Bank of Seattle. Didn’t you get a loan from themcSheila?”
Sheila felt as if she were melting into the kitchen floor. Noah! Noah had deposited the money. From somewhere in her conscious mind, she was able to respond to Jim Stinson. “Of course I didcI just wasn’t aware that they had transferred the money so quickly. My statement hasn’t come yet.”
“But didn’t they call you?” Stinson asked.
“I’ve been out a lot latelycdown in the vineyards.” She lied, trying to find a way to get off the phone politely. “Thank you very much.”
“No trouble, but you might think about putting some of that money into savings or another account. Deposits aren’t insured for that large a sum.”
“You’re right. I will. Thanks, Jim.”
She hung up the phone and leaned against the wall. Hot beads of perspiration dampened the back of her neck. “That bastard!” she muttered between her teeth. Why couldn’t he leave her alone? He must have deposited the money out of a guilty conscience from the coffers of Wilder Investments, perhaps as incentive for her to sell. But that didn’t explain everything. Why would she have to sell anything? The money was hers, or so it appeared.
Her anger grew white hot. Ben Wilder might have bought Marilyn Summers sixteen years ago, but no man, not even Noah, could purchase her or her father’s dream. She balled a small fist and slammed it into the wall. “Emily,” she called as she raced to the back door.
Emily was playing distractedly with a fluffy white kitten. She turned her head to watch her mother nearly run out of the back door. “What?”
Sheila tried to hold her fury in control. “Get your overnight case and pack your pajamas and a change of clothes. We’re going to Seattle.”
“Seattle?” The girl’s dark eyes glittered with expectations. “To see Noah and Sean?” she asked hopefully.
“IcI don’t know if we’ll see Noah, honey.” The trembling in her voice belied her calm. “And I really doubt that Sean will be where we’re going.”
The smile on Emily’s face fell. “Then why are we going to Seattle?”
“I have some business to discuss with Noah and his father.”
Emily’s brows drew together, and her rosy cheeks flushed. “Then why can’t we see Sean? Won’t he be with Noah?” She was genuinely concernedcand expectant.
“Another time. But we’re going to Noah’s office. Sean’s probably at home.”
Emily’s lower lip stuck out in a pouty frown. “Can’t we go see him? We don’t go to Seattle very often.”
Sheila shook her head but muttered a quick “We’ll see,” hoping to change the subject. “Hurry up and get your things.” She left Emily in her room, packing, and did the same herself. She was out the door before she remembered the checkbook. Cascade Valley’s checkbook. The one with a balance of over a quarter of a million dollars in it.
She tried to smile as she imagined herself self-righteously scribbling out a check for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars and dropping it theatrically on Noah’s desk. Her smile faded as she visualized the scenario. Where was the justice she would feel? Where the triumph? And why, dear God, why wouldn’t this ache leave her heart?
* * *
It was nearly five o’clock when they arrived in Seattle. The drive had been tedious due to the combination of roadwork on the winding mountain roads and Sheila’s thinly stretched nerves. Her palms were damp on the steering wheel, her lips tight over her teeth. Emily had been quiet for most of the trip, but as they got closer to the heart of the city and she caught a few glimpses of Puget Sound, she began to chatter, asking Sheila questions about Seattle. The questions were intended to be innocent. Each one wounded Sheila anew.
“Where does Sean live?”
“Not down here. His house is near Lake Washington.”
“Have you been there?”
“A couple of times.”
“Can we go to Sean’s house together?”
A pause. The lump in Sheila’s throat made speech impossible. She tried to concentrate on shifting down as the car dipped along the hillside streets.
“Can we? Will you take me?” Emily repeated, looking at her mother with the wide-eyed innocence of only eight years.
“Maybe someday.”
The water of Puget Sound shimmered in the brightness of the warm summer sun. Seagulls dipped and dived over the salty water; huge, white-hulled ferries with broad green stripes down their sides plowed through the water, churning up a frothy wake and breaking the stillness with the sound of their rumbling engines.
Sheila parked the car across from the waterfront and stared out at the open water. Perhaps when all of this business with Wilder Investments was over, she would be able to take Emily out to dinner on one of the piers. Perhapsc
“Come on, Em,” she stated with renewed determination. “Let’s go.”
The Wilder Building was an imposing structure. A concrete and steel skyscraper that towered over the neighboring turn-of-the-century buildings, it proudly boasted smooth modern lines and large, reflective windows. Sheila’s stomach began to wind into tight, uncomfortable knots as she and Emily rode the elevator to the thirtieth floor.
The elevator doors parted, and they stepped into a reception area. A plump woman of about a sixty greeted Sheila and Emily with a cool but efficient smile.
“Good afternoon. May I help you?”
Sheila gathered in her breath. “I’m looking for Mr. WildercNoah Wilder. Is he in?”
The secretary, whose nameplate indicated that her name was Margaret Trent, shook her perfectly coiffed red tresses. “I’m sorry Missc”
“Lindstrom,” Sheila supplied hastily. “I’m Sheila Lindstrom, and this is my daughter, Emily.” The daughter smiled frailly.
Maggie showed just the hint of a dimple. So this was the Lindstrom woman all the fuss was about. “I’m Maggie Trent,” she said warmly. Then, remembering Sheila’s request, continued, “I’m sorry, Miss Lindstrom, but Noah doesn’t work here any longer.” Her reddish brows drew together behind her glasses. “Didn’t you know? Things haven’tc” Maggie quickly held her tongue. She had been on the verge of divulging some of the secrets of Wilder Investments to this slender young woman with the intense gray eyes, but she quickly thought better of it. She hadn’t gotten to be Ben Wilder’s personal secretary by idly wagging her tongue at anyone who walked through the door. Quite the opposite. Maggie was a good judge of character and could tell from the looks of the determined woman in the soft blue dress and the well-mannered child that she could trust them, but prudence held her tongue.
The look of disappointment in Sheila’s eyes did, however, give her pause. “I think that Noah was planning to go back to Portland,” she offered, leaving the rest of the sad story unsaid. It wouldn’t do to gossip.
Sheila had to swallow back a dozen questions that were determined to spring to her lips. Intuitively she knew that Maggie was privy to the workings of the Wilder household. The thought that Noah was actually leaving staggered her, and the blood drained from her face. She had to know more. Suddenly it was incredibly important that she see him. “Is it possible to speak with Noah’s father?” she asked, tonelessly.
The secretary looked as if Sheila had hit her. “Ben?” she repeated, regaining her composure. “NocMr. Wilder isn’t in.” The warmth in the woman’s eyes faded as she turned back to her typewriter. She looked at Sheila over the top of her glasses. “Was there anything else? Would you like to leave your name and number?”
“No,” Sheila said, her voice beginning to quiver. “Thank you.”
Together she led Emily to the elevator, and they began the descent. “Mom, are you okay?” Emily asked as they walked back to the car.
“Sure I am.”
“You don’t look so good.”
Sheila forced a smile and gave her daughter a playful pat on the shoulders. “Is that any way to talk to your mother?”
They slid into the car simultaneously, and Sheila turned the key to start the engine. Emily looked out the passenger window, but Sheila saw the trace of a tear in the corner of her daughter’s eye. “Emily?” she asked, letting the engine die.
“What?” Emily sniffed.
“What’s wrong?”
Emily turned liquid eyes to her mother and her small face crumpled into a mask of despair. “He’s gone, really gone, isn’t he?”
“Honeycwhat?”
“Noah!” Emily nearly shouted, beginning to lose all control. “I heard that lady at his office. She said he’s gone, and I know that he took Sean, too! He left, Mommy, just like Daddy did. He doesn’t love me eitherc” Her small voice broke, and her shoulders began to heave with her sobs.
Sheila reached out for her child and wrapped comforting arms around the limp form. “Hey, Em, shhhcdon’t cry.” Her own voice threatened to break. “It’s not like that, you know. Noah loves you very much.”
“No, he doesn’t. He doesn’t call. He doesn’t come see us. Just like Daddy!”
“Honey, no. Noah’s not like Daddy at all.” Sheila kissed her daughter on the forehead and wiped the tears from the round, dark eyes.
“Then why doesn’t he call?”
Sheila closed her eyes and faced the truth, the damning truth. “Because I asked him not to.”
Emily’s body stiffened in Sheila’s arms. “Why, Mommy, I thought you liked him.”
“I didcI do.”
“Then why?”
“Oh, Em, I wish I knewc. We had a fight. A very big fight andcI doubt that we’ll ever get it straightened out.”
Sheila attempted to comfort Emily as she guided the car out of the heart of the city. Emily’s accusations reinforced her own fears, and her mind was swimming by the time she reached the stone pillars flanking the long driveway of the Wilder estate. She drove without hesitation, knowing that she had to speak to Ben. Surely he would know how to get in touch with his son. Her purpose had shifted. Though her checkbook was still in her purse, its significance diminished and the only thoughts in her mind centered on Noah and the cruel insinuations she had cast upon him the last time they were together. No matter what had happened in the past, Sheila was now face-to-face with the fact that she still loved him as desperately as ever. She also realized that her love wasn’t strong enough to bring them together again—nothing was. Too much mistrust held them away from each other. Too much deceit had blackened their lives.
Sheila pulled on the emergency brake, and Emily eyed the massive stone house suspiciously. “Who’s house is that—it’s creepy.” Her voice steady, she was once again composed. Her young eyes traveled up the cornerstones of the house and the brick walk that led to the large double doors.
“It’s not creepy,” Sheila countered, and added, “Ben Wilder lives here.”
“Sean’s grandpa?” Emily asked, not hiding her enthusiasm.
“That’s right.”
“Maybe Sean will be here!” Emily was out of the car in a flash, and Sheila had to hurry to catch up with her.
“I don’t think so, honey,” she said as they both stood on the arched porch. Emily ignored her mother’s doubts and pressed the doorbell, which chimed inside the house. Sheila prepared herself to meet George the butler’s disapproving glare.
Hurried footsteps echoed in the house, and the door was thrust open to expose Sean on the other side. He wore a sneer, but it quickly faded into a brilliant smile of clean, white teeth. He was dressed, as usual, in cut-off jeans and a well-worn football jersey that had once been blue.
“Hi ya, pip-squeak,” he greeted Emily. “How’re ya?” His grin widened as he pretended to punch her in the arm.
“Goodcreal good,” Emily piped back delightedly. An ‘I told you so’ expression covered her face as she turned to look at Sheila. “See, Mom, Sean is here, just like I thought,” she declared with a triumphant gleam in her eyes.
Sean’s face sobered slightly as he looked at Sheila. She thought he seemed older—more mature—than he had when they were all living at the winery. She couldn’t help but notice how similarly featured he was to his father. The sadness and maturity that had entered his gaze reminded her of Noah, and her throat became dry. “Hi, Sheila. You lookin’ for Dad?”
Sheila’s heart leapt to her throat. “Is he here?”
Sean nodded silently.
“I expected to find your grandfather.”
Sean’s eyes darted from Sheila to Emily and back again. He bit at his lower lip, scratched his neck and seemed to ponder what he was about to say. It was as if he were hesitant to trust her, and Sheila felt a knife of doubt twist in her heart. What had Noah told his son about their breakup? “Ben isn’t here now,” Sean explained. “He’scat the hospital. I’m not supposed to say anything about it, you know, in case some reporters come nosin’ around here, but I suppose it’s all right to tell you about it.” He didn’t seem sure of his last statement.
“Is it serious?” Sheila asked quietly.
Sean shrugged indifferently, but worried lines scarred his flawless forehead. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his ragged shorts. “I think so. Dad doesn’t talk about it much.”
Sheila felt a deep pang of sadness steal into her heart. “Where is your father, Sean?”
Sean cocked his head toward the back of the house. “He’s down at the lake, just walkin’ and thinkin’, I guess.” His blue eyes met the sober expression in Emily’s. “Hey, pip-squeak, don’t look so downc. Maybe you and I can walk down to the park and grab an ice-cream cone. What do ya say?”
Sheila recognized and appreciated Sean’s rather obvious way of giving her some time alone with Noah.
“Can I go, Mom, please?” The look of expectation on Emily’s face couldn’t be denied.
“Sure you can, but come back in a couple of hours, okay?”
Sheila doubted if Emily heard her. The child was already racing across the wooded lawn, her dark curls escaping from the neat barrettes over her ears. Sean was loping along beside her, seemingly as excited as Emily.
When the dangerous duo was out of sight, Sheila took in a deep breath of air, hoping to fortify herself against the upcoming confrontation with Noah. As she closed the door behind her and headed through the elegant main hallway of the manor, she wondered if Noah would listen to what she had to say. He had lied to her, it was true, but her reaction had been vicious and cold, entirely without reason. If only she had trusted him a little.
She walked through the den and a pang of remorse touched her heart as she remembered her first night with Noah, the dying fire and the heated love they had shared. Tears burned the back of her eyes as she opened the French doors and stood upon the veranda from which she had attempted to make her escape into the night several months before.
As she leaned against the railing she looked down the rocky cliff on which the veranda was perched. Nearly a hundred feet below her, standing at the edge of the water, was Noah. He stared out at the gray blue water as if entranced by the distant sailboats skimming across the lake. Sheila’s throat became dry at the sight of him; her love tore her soul in two.
Without thinking about how she would approach him, she half ran across the flagstones, her fingers slipping upon the railing, her eyes glued to Noah’s unmoving form. The old cable car had seen better years, and it groaned when Sheila pressed the call button. It shuddered and then steadily climbed the cliff to dock at the end of the deck. Sheila climbed inside the cab and pressed against the lever that released the brakes and slowly took the old car back to its original position at the base of the cliff. Noah didn’t seem to notice; he didn’t glance toward her, but continued to stare out at the cold lapping water.
He seemed to have aged since she last saw him. Deep lines outlined his eyes; his jaw was more defined, his face more sharply angled. Either he hadn’t been eating properly or he wasn’t able to sleep. Perhaps both. Her heart bled silently for the man she loved and the guilt he bore so proudly. How could she have accused him of everything she had? How could she have been so cruel as to add to his torment? A man who had given up everything to claim his unborn son; a man who had bucked tradition and raised that son alone; a man who had grieved when he thought he had failed with that same precious son.
The wind off the lake blew his hair away from his face, displaying the long lines of anxiety etching his brow. It was cool as it pushed the soft fabric of her dress against her legs and touched her cheeks to chill the unbidden tears that slid from her eyes.
He stood with his feet apart, his hands pressed palms out in the back pockets of his jeans. At the sound of her footsteps in the gravel, he cocked his head in her direction, and when his blue gaze clashed with hers, the expression of mockery froze on his face.
What was there to say to her? Why was she here? And why did she look more beautiful in person than she had in the sleepless nights he had lain awake and imagined her?
Tentatively she reached up and pushed a wayward lock of black hair from his forehead and stood upon her toes to kiss him lightly on the lips. He didn’t move.
She lowered herself but continued to rest her fingertips on his shoulders.
“You must have come here because of the money,” he said, his voice breaking the thin stillness.
Sheila’s voice was firm. “I just found out that you deposited the money in my account, and I decided to come and throw it back in your face.”
His smile was still distrustful. “I knew you would.”
“You expected me to give it back to you?”
He shook his head at his own folly. “I hoped that you would come and see me face-to-face. If you hadn’t, I had decided to come back to Cascade Valley and try and talk some sense into you. I only waited because I thought we both needed time to cool off.”
“You knew we could work things outcafter all that’s happened?”
He looked away from her and out at the lowering sun. “I didn’t know anything,” he admitted, “except that I couldn’t live without you.”
“But why didn’t you tell me about the fire? Why did you lie?”
“I didn’t lie to you, and I just needed more time to look into the cause of the fire. You have to believe that I would never intentionally hurt you, nor would I deceive you.”
“Only when you thought it was for my own good.”
“Only until I had all the answers,” he replied quietly.
“And do you?”
He closed his eyes and sighed. “Oh, woman, if only I did!”
When he opened his eyes to look at her again, some of his hostility seemed to have melted. His gaze traveled from her windswept chestnut hair, down the column of her throat and past the swell of her breasts, draped loosely in a soft blue dress.
“Then why did you want to see me?”
“A few things have changed around here,” he responded cryptically.
“Because of Ben’s illness?”
Noah nodded and his eyes grew dark. “He’s in the hospital again, and the doctors are concerned that he won’t get out.”
“I’m sorryc.”
Noah waved her condolences aside. “Maybe it’s better this way.” His dark expression didn’t falter.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s a long story. Basically, the doctor in charge of my father, Dr. Carson, has ordered Ben to give up working. Not only must he step down as president of Wilder Investments, but Ben’s got to give up even going into the office.”
“And that would kill your father?” she asked, trying to follow Noah’s line of reasoning.
“Ben’s not the kind of man to sit idle.”
“I suppose not.”
“He likes to be in the middle of things. Anyway,” he continued with an expression of indifference, “the old man asked me to take over as head of the business, sell out my operation in Portland to Betty Averill and move to Seattle. I wasn’t too hot for the idea.”
Sheila tried to hide her disappointment. “Then you are moving back to Portland,” she surmised.
“I thought so, but things have changed.” Sheila’s heart turned over, and her throat went dry. “Anthony Simmons’s report was invalid.”
“What?”
Sheila didn’t know that she was shaking until Noah placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. “What are you saying?” she asked in a hoarse whisper.
“Pac-West Insurance Company continued with its investigation on the fire.” Sheila held her breath. “You were right about your father, Sheila; there is no evidence that he started the fire.”
“How do you know this?’ Tears once again began to slide down her cheeks.
“Because the insurance company found out that Ben hired Simmons to start the fire. Ben’s confirmed all this and he’s cleared your father’s name. Therefore the insurance company is refusing to pay the claim.”
“But the moneycin my account.”
“I took it from Wilder Investments to rebuild the winery, as I’d promised. And as far as I’m concerned, the note against the winery has been satisfied. Within a few weeks you should get the legal papers that will acknowledge and guarantee that you are sole owner of the winery.”
“Oh, Noah,” she whispered hoarsely, her emotions strangling her.
“It’s all right, Sheila,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and kissing the top of her head. “I’m just sorry that my family had anything to do with your father’s death or his financial worries.” His voice had lowered. “Ben even admitted that he had been behind the tampered bottles in Montana, in a move to force your father out of business. It looks as if he will be prosecuted for the arson and involuntary manslaughter.”
“Oh, God, Noahcbut he’s illc.”
“That’s no excuse for the things he’s done.”
“What are you going to do?” Her tears were running freely.
“I’ve agreed to run the company since Ben’s given me sole authority, and I’m going to try and right my father’s mistakes.” His mouth twisted into a line of disgust. “I don’t know if it’s possible. That’s why I started with you. Ben tried to cheat you out of the winery rather than just continue to share the profits with you. It’s all yours now. Wilder Investments is out of it.”
He watched her reaction, gauged her response. “You don’t understand, do you?” she whispered. “Nothingcnot the winerycnot my father’s reputationcnone of it means anything unless you’re with me.”
“You were the one who left.”
“But only because I didn’t understand.” His arms tightened around her.
His voice caught. “Dear God, Sheila, if only you knew how much I love youcif only you could feel the emptiness I’ve had to deal with.”
“I do,” she vowed, “every night that I’m alone.”
“Never again,” he promised, “you’ll never be alone again. Promise me that you’ll marry me.”
Sobs of joy racked her body. “Oh, Noah, I’ve been such a fool. I love you so dearly and I tried to convince myself that I could forget youc. I thought I wanted to.”
“Shhhcit’s all right. We’re together now, and we will be forever. And we’re going to have our own family—Sean, Emily and as many more children as you want.”
“Do you mean it?”
“Of course I do, love. More than anything I’ve ever said. Will you marry me?”
“Do you have to ask?” she sighed, tipping her head to look at him through the shimmer of unshed tears. A slow, satisfied smile curved his lips, and his eyes caressed hers.
“I love you, Sheila,” he vowed. “I promised that I always will.”
“But what about the winery?”
“We’ll work that out later. If you want, I’ll move the headquarters of Wilder Investments to Cascade Valley. It doesn’t matter where we live, just as long as we’re together.”
“Noahc”
“Shhhcdon’t worry about anything. Just love me.”
“Forever,” she vowed against his chest before his lips claimed hers in a kiss filled with the promise of a blissful future they would share.
* * * * *