Confetti Hearts (Confetti Hitched, #1)(87)

He's gracious in defeat. So much more than I ever would have been. It’s a mark of the man I love.

I take a shuddering breath, all of my hurt falling away at the honesty and pain in his voice. “Lachlan…” There are so many words wanting to come out.

“Joe?”

I step closer. “And what if I want you?” I say hesitantly and then the words tumble out. “What if I don’t want a divorce?”

He stands up again, his eyes widening. “What are you saying?”

“I’m telling you I love you too.”

His eyes flare impossibly bright. “What?”

I offer him a lopsided smile. “I love you. I have from the first moment I met you.”

“How can that be true?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been able to work it out, but there’s something about you that is just…” I hesitate. “Mine,” I finally say.

In two strides he’s on me, drawing me into his arms and holding me impossibly tight. It’s wonderful because it’s finally real and not the make-believe we’ve been making.

“All of me is yours,” he says fiercely. “All of me.”

He kisses me. His lips are warm and soft, and I grab him, sliding my hands under his jumper and feeling his hot, tight skin. He pulls back and I utter a mumbled protest, but he laughs as I gaze up at him. Gone is the sad man. Now he’s blazing in triumph. Love pours from those previously shuttered eyes I knew during our marriage.

“I love you so fucking much,” he says and then we’re kissing and shedding our clothes and falling onto the bed.

Our lovemaking is frantic and filled with the usual passion, but it’s also the most loving and intense experience I’ve ever had. He moves inside me, his bright eyes watching me while I watch him. Our hands clasp as our bodies writhe, until finally I come with his name on my lips and his hands still holding mine.

Later, we lie tangled together in the sheets. The light is fading, and a fierce wind is battering at the windows, but in here the fire is roaring and the room is cosy. Light flickers over the walls, and I stir and stretch, before falling back into position, lying with my head on his chest. One of his hands presses me close, while the other strokes my hair.

We’ve been quiet for the last few minutes, but it’s a comfortable, happy silence filled with joy. It feels like I’ve come home when I never knew I’d been wandering, lost.

I play lazily with his chest hair. “Well, this has been a wedding to remember,” I say, and he laughs.

“It does feel like we’ve been in an Oscar Wilde play without ever knowing it.”

I laugh as downstairs DABBA start to play, “Andante Andante”.

“I missed my flight,” I say, a sudden thought occurring to me.

His arm tightens. “Good,” he says succinctly.

“You sound happy.”

“Because I am.”

I smile. “Well, I’m not going to be spending my holiday in Thailand lying on a beach, and it’s all your fault.”

“I’m a very talented man, but the weather is beyond my control.”

“So, what are we going to do?”

He sits up slightly, and I grumble before rolling over and resting my chin on his torso to look up at him. He looks rather piratical with his wide hairy chest, unshaven jaw, and that lock of hair falling over his forehead.

“I think we’ll stay here for a few days and when I say here, I mean this bed.”

I smile. “Just like that?”

“They owe us a fucking holiday. We ran their hotel for them.”

“True. You’re a wise man, Charlie Brown.”

“I have all my own hair and no dog.”

“You should alter that,” I say idly.

He sets me away gently and slides out of bed. He stands for a second and then starts to pace. I roll over, chin in hand, and watch him for a few seconds. He’s a pretty sight whether he’s naked or dressed, but I must admit to being partial to full nudity.

“Alright?” I ask.

A year ago, I would have been anxious as I tried to work out if I’d done something to displease him. Now I have new knowledge of the man. I know he’s flawed. He’s impatient, a workaholic, demanding and neat, and wants to bend the world to his will. But I also know he’s kind, funny, and impossibly loyal. And I know he loves me. So even if I have pissed him off, I know we’ll work it out.

“I want to get back together,” he says suddenly.

“Shocker. I thought we were. Don’t tell me this was all just a fiendish scheme to deflower me?”

“I’m a bit late for that. Maybe a few centuries with vocabulary like that.” I roll my eyes. “No. I don’t want to date. Well, I do a bit, but I want you to live with me again while we do that.”

“Not in that house,” I say, sitting up in agitation. “I can’t live in that house again, Lachlan. I was so unhappy there.”

“I’ll sell it. It’s as good as gone, sweetheart.”

“But it’s your house.” I run my hand through my hair. “You love it.”

“I love you more.”

I smile. That will never get old. “I love you too.”

“So let me sell it. I don’t want it anymore, anyway.”