Dark Sexy Knight (A Modern Fairytale)(83)

That day in the courtroom, baby? I didn’t see a light at the end of the tunnel I’ve lived in for most of my life. All I saw was the possibility that I’d abandon you for good one day. I’d kill someone and be locked up for life, and my sweet sunshine would be left all alone. I couldn’t do that to you. All I was thinking that day was, Cut her loose. Let her go, you selfish bastard. No matter what, you can never be the man she deserves.

Except that now I’m in therapy, and I take the meds I need. And over the last month or so, I’ve started thinking that maybe I can be the man you deserve, if you have one chance left to give me. Just one. Because if you gave me that chance, baby, I promise you that’s the only one I’d ever need.

I’m looking at this sheet of paper and trying to decide if I should say everything or hold some back, just in case I get the chance to see you again. Aw, heck. What’s the point of this letter if I don’t say it all? So here’s the rest . . . I want you forever, Verity. I want you to be my wife, the mother of my kids, my partner, my best friend, the woman I make love to every night and wake up next to every morning. I want to spend lazy Sundays gardening around the house and making love on picnic tables. I want to take Mel and Ryan to the zoo and the park and Slip’N Slide day and everywhere else they want to go. I want BBQ dinners on the back patio and movies in our bed. I want your hand in mine. I want your naked body next to mine. I want your legs all tangled up in mine. I want you to be mine. I want it all, baby. And I promise I’d make it all happen from that one chance . . . if you were willing to give it to me.

No matter what, I hope you have a happy life, full of love, Verity Gwynn. You deserve every happiness the world can offer.

As for me, whether or not I ever see your face again in this life, I will love you until I breathe my last breath.

And then I will love you through eternity.

Colton



“Colton,” she whispered through tears. She’d cried throughout most of the letter, and she was utterly exhausted now—the way she’d feel if she finally came to the end of a daunting journey, which, in essence, she had.

He still loved her.

He still wanted a future with her—a forever with her.

Clutching the letter against her heart with one hand, she pressed the other against their baby growing inside her body and swiftly fell asleep.

***

His visit with Melody was good, and she confirmed what he’d desperately hoped for after reading her letter—that Verity and Ryan had never left Atlanta, and they’d been spending a good bit of time at Bonnie’s Place. In fact, if Mel had her details right, Ryan was in the life skills program on weekdays and Verity was working at the sundries store. After hearing that, he kissed his cousin’s cheek and apologized for cutting the visit short, promising to return soon. He bolted from her apartment, said good-bye to the social worker, called a cab, and waited impatiently outside until it pulled up. He needed to get home. He needed to see Verity, touch her, talk to her, and—oh God, please—beg for one more chance.

As the taxi pulled into his driveway, he shoved a twenty-dollar bill at the driver and quickly exited the car, standing on the driveway with his mouth slightly ajar as he inventoried the changes she’d made while he was away. She’d painted the shutters and mailbox with a fresh coat of dark green paint, and planted flowers in neat and colorful beds along the driveway and in front of the house. There were white curtains in the bay window, and she’d shined the brass door knocker until it gleamed like gold.

His heart lifted, but he reminded himself not to get too hopeful as he walked up the front stoop and unlocked the door. Closing the door behind him, he looked at the room, which she’d freshened up with an antique coffee table she must have found at a tag sale, and she’d even placed a new figurine—of a princess and a knight—on top of it.

Walking into the dining room, he noted the neat piles of mail, catalogs, and newspapers, and the mail bins sitting beside the table, and his eyes started to burn. In the kitchen, there was a calendar on the wall, with large red X’s crossing through every day they’d spent apart, and pink and white checkered curtains decorating the window beside the table. She’d found Aunt Jane’s old rose-covered cookie jar, and when he opened the top, the smell of fresh-baked oatmeal cookies wafted up, making his mouth water almost as much as his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, he looked toward the hallway. He didn’t know how he knew so certainly, but she was there—in his bedroom. He knew it. He could feel it, and his feet started moving toward her even as his stomach jumped and clenched and his heart beat so furiously, it almost hurt.

He closed his eyes as he got to the end of the hallway, only opening them once he was in the doorway of his room.

And there she was.

Lying on her side, curled up on his bed, his letter clutched to her chest, she was sound asleep, so peaceful, so beautiful, such a welcome sight to his worried, tired eyes, he reached for the doorframe to brace himself from collapsing.

She’s here. She’s here. She’s here.

She didn’t leave you.

She’s here.

He wanted to weep like a baby, but clenched his jaw and blinked back his tears, taking a few steps toward her. Her almost-white hair was spread out on his pillow like a halo, the delicate lines of her cheekbones relaxed in sleep, her legs clad in soft-looking jeans, her feet bare. Kneeling on the floor beside his bed and resting his arms on the comforter, he watched her sleep, his heart aching with relief, with sorrow, with gratitude, with longing, with a love so big and sweeping and all-encompassing, he had no idea how the world, let alone his heart, could contain it all.