Unexpected Arrivals(64)
She blinked, sending the tears that pooled in her eyes cascading down her pink cheeks. They clung to her jaw with the same anticipation that lingered in her eyes. Her emerald irises were smiling, even if her expression was that of shock.
“I don’t want to go another day without knowing you’re mine. Eighteen months has been a year and a half too long. Will you marry me? I promise to love you endlessly, care for you faithfully, and protect you at all costs.”
She nodded, although her head barely moved. “Yes,” she croaked, and it was the most glorious sound I’d ever heard. “Yes. Yes. Yes. A thousand times, yes.” The smile that hung in her eyes took over her face, and the tears that had held on let go at the last possible second.
I dropped her hand to remove the ring from the velvet and then slid it onto her slim finger. Before it was even fully on, I stood to take her mouth in an uninhibited kiss that would embarrass old ladies. But I didn’t care. Cora Chase had agreed to be my wife despite my downfalls, stupid mistakes, and transgressions during our time apart. I’d shout it from the mountaintops as soon as I reached a peak.
When I finally allowed Cora to breathe her own air, I glanced around and noticed the area was primarily deserted. No one appeared to have witnessed our monumental moment. And somehow, that seemed perfect. I watched as Cora stared at her hand in awe, her gaze shifting to me then back repeatedly, and I tried to commit every moment to memory.
The details of the remainder of the day paled in comparison, but the cruise down the Seine and the sights we took in only added to the experience. We were both on cloud nine throughout our time on the river and our four-course meal that followed. The sights of Paris at night were nothing short of breathtaking and completely different than they’d been during the day. Chelsea had been right; the Eiffel Tower alone was worth the trip. We kicked off the new year together, engaged, and all was right in the world as the fireworks exploded over the city in what I’d forever remember as a celebration of us.
As promised, I sent Chelsea a text as soon as I could with a picture of the Eiffel Tower lit up as though it owned the sky, and a caption that read, “She said yes.” She didn’t immediately respond, and I hadn’t wanted to spend time away from Cora waiting for my phone to chime. I’d talk to her when I got home; I just let her know she’d been right.
Staring out over the edge of the boat with Cora in front of me, wrapped in my arms, nothing could have been any better.
Until she said, “Promise me we’ll get married as soon as I get back to the US.”
And we did just that. Six months and two weeks later, Cora Chase became Cora Carpenter in a small ceremony in Geneva Key with Neil, Hannah, and my parents in attendance.
14
Part Three—Present
Cora
Five o’clock traffic was unusually light, or maybe I’d hoped I’d get caught behind a six-car pileup that would take me well into the night. When that hadn’t happened, I pulled in behind James. The drive hadn’t prepared me to have this conversation with my husband—nothing could.
While I sat in my car taking deep, cleansing breaths to keep the anxiety attack at bay, James had gotten out of his and walked toward me. He tapped on the glass with his knuckles. With a silent prayer and a quick deal with God, I grabbed my purse from the passenger seat and got out to greet him.
“Hey, babe.” James kissed me the way he did every night when he came home, except normally it was in welcome. Tonight something was off.
“Why are you home so early? Does your head still hurt?” I peered up at my husband, aware my brow was knitted and concern creased my forehead. He wasn’t prone to migraines, but he’d had one last night that put him in bed before the sun went down.
He snaked an arm around my waist and squeezed me to his side. Everything always felt so perfect next to him. The two years we’d been apart had been a self-imposed hell I never cared to revisit. I thanked God every day when he walked in the door that, somehow, we’d found our way back to each other. Now I worried with the news I had to share, this might drive another wedge between us the same way it had seven years ago.
“No, my head’s okay. How was your day?” His voice shook just a hint, like maybe he needed to clear his throat. Or maybe I was hearing things because of what lay in front of us.
Leaving the cocoon of his embrace, I reluctantly opened the door to walk inside, dreading what was coming. “It wasn’t great.”
He still hadn’t answered my question about why he was home so early, but before I could ask again, he probed me. “Anything in particular?”
The weight of my purse hitting the counter when I set it down made a hollow thud. From the corner of my eye, I saw James set his bag on the floor and wondered when I’d begun to find metrosexual attractive. He watched me move around the kitchen—I was clearly on a mission—and then his eyes widened in surprise when I pulled out a bottle of wine and two glasses. And I wasn’t shy with the servings. I could only hope alcohol softened the blow and lessened the yelling.
He took the glass I offered, hesitating to drink when I didn’t propose a toast, although we probably should have just drunk straight from the bottle and saved ourselves the hassle of cleanup. It could have been Mad Dog 20/20 in that glass, and it wouldn’t have mattered. James tried not to guzzle it, but I had thrown caution to the wind, taking large gulps before finally meeting his eyes when I swallowed the last drop.