Ginger's Heart (A Modern Fairytale, #3)(145)

“How are you?”

“Better now,” she said.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“You are here.”

“How’s your daddy?”

“Sad. But he knew it was comin’.” She lifted her head to look up at him. “I missed you.”

Cain dropped his lips to hers, dots of rainwater caught between them as he kissed her gently. “I missed you too.”

“Gran told me . . . about how you visited her.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “She did?”

“A letter.”

“She shouldn’t have said anythin’,” he said. “It was supposed to be a secret.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I’d never want you to think I was butterin’ up your gran just to get to you.”

“Cain,” she said, “when will you learn?”

“Learn what?”

“You skipped the most stones. You saved my doll. You knew I wasn’t breakable. You brought me back to life. You visited my Gran. Do you know what a good man you are? Because I do. I’ve always known. And I love you.”

“I’ll miss her,” said Cain. “Never had a grandmother of my own. Sort of got used to visitin’ her.”

“She liked you very much.”

He grinned. “I liked her too.”

She closed her eyes, burrowing her face into his neck. “I’m so tired. How do you feel about takin’ me upstairs and holdin’ me while I fall asleep?”

He pressed his lips to her hair, then stood up with her still in his arms and started for the stairs. “That’s why I’m here, sweet girl.”

“And come to Wright’s at three.”

“If you want me there. You could Tell Mr. Wright I’m a friend of the family. And I’ll, uh . . .” He cleared his throat as he started up the stairs. “I’ll go to the funeral on my own, so no one knows we’re together.”

She waited until he’d laid her gently on her bed, taken off his boots, and gotten under the covers with her, facing her.

“Cain,” she said softly, reaching for his cheek and caressing it tenderly, “will you sit beside me at my grandmother’s wake on Monday night, and will you escort me to her funeral on Tuesday? Will you come back here to McHuid’s and receive guests with me on Tuesday afternoon, and when they leave, will you come back here to my cottage and stay the night in my bed? And when people ask who you are to me, will you tell them that you’re my boyfriend and I’m your girlfriend, and will you hold my hand for the whole town to see?”

“Princess, are you—”

“Sure? Yes,” she said, pressing her lips to his before leaning away to look into his eyes. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. I’ll love you on the day I die. That’s all that matters anymore. You and me.” Through her tears she managed to smile at him. “And the two people who loved us most will be smilin’ down, happy to finally see us together.”

He blinked his eyes and clenched his jaw, and Ginger knew that there was a lump in his throat so she didn’t force him to speak. Besides, the tenderness in his eyes told her everything she needed to know. She pressed her chest to his and tucked her head under his chin, closing her eyes and sighing as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her even closer.

“I love you too,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Jump to the one you love the most, darlin’.

Cain’s heart, which had been hers all along, beat out its eternal rhythm against Ginger’s heart, which was his until the last day of forever.





Epilogue


Eight months later



“. . . happy birthday to you!”

Ginger looked around the table, smiling at her mother, father, Klaus, and, finally, at Cain, who sat beside her, holding her hand under the table.

“Happy birthday, princess,” mouthed Cain, grinning at her.

It was the first time he could remember being invited to a birthday party at the McHuids’ manor, and originally he’d told Ginger to go alone and they’d celebrate later.

“Hmm,” she’d hummed, sitting up in bed and sighing before swinging her legs over the bed and padding naked into his bathroom.

Hmm. “Hmm” meant that she had something on her mind.

“What, ‘hmm’?”

She peeked out of his bathroom, grinning. “Hmm, I guess I’ll have to move myself then.”

“Move what? What does that mean?”

“It means, hmm, I was plannin’ to move in here with you on my birthday. Heck, I’ve got most of the cottage packed up, but if you’re not interested in helpin’ me . . .”

She ducked back into the bathroom, and Cain sprang out of bed, crossing his bedroom in three strides. He stood buck naked in the bathroom doorway, staring at her sitting on the counter, legs crossed, trying not to smile.

“Are you movin’ in with me?” he demanded.

“Well, I stay here four nights a week anyway. I figure . . .”

He’d stayed rigidly still, arms splayed, hands clutching the doorframe, eyes trained on hers like lasers.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m movin’ in here with you . . . if I’m still invited.”