Down to My Soul (Soul Series Book 2)(106)

“Stretch marks?” I shake against him laughing. “Boo to stretch marks.”

“And I’ll give you silver chewing gum paper for our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.” He laughs into my hair. “And Gold Bond medicated powder for our fiftieth.”

“You’re ridiculous.” I laugh even though tears roll over my cheeks and down my chin, christening the space where our bodies touch.

“And we’ll get so old that people forget about us. Forget we were ever famous. Forget our music. Hell, we’ll get so old together that I might even forget our anniversary date, but it’ll be okay. We’ll get so old that the only thing I remember from this life is you. And if there’s a next life—”

“There is.” I cling to that. Maybe I’ve discarded my faith somewhere along the way, and I’ll pick it back up when I’m ready, but I do know I’ll see Mama again. “There has to be another life, Rhyson.”

“Then in the next one,” he says, eyes filled with infinite promises. “I’ll find you again.”

“Find me,” I whisper back with a smile.

“Do you remember that scene from Cold Mountain?” He pushes all my hair back so that he sees my face clearly. “When Nicole Kidman says ‘Isn’t there some religion where you just have to say three times “I marry you,” and you’re man and wife?’”

I can’t hold on to my smile because this moment feels as sacred as what we’ll do in a church one day real soon.

“I marry you.” My voice quakes with the beauty of the declaration. “I marry you. I marry you.”

His eyes burn across my face with the sweetest heat, with assurances of his love, with the certainty of forever.

“I marry you.” He ordains my lips with a kiss, soft and tender. “I marry you. I marry you.”

Neither of us saw this kind of love growing up. Between his parents, he saw nothing more than a business arrangement, between mine I only saw a broken promise, but we made our own way, made our own love.

We’ve made our own vow, and this one we’ll keep.



THE END