Page 301 of By His Vow
Sure, I know how I want it to go.
I want her to take one look at me, realize her mistake, and run into my arms, to forget whatever scared her off and allow us to continue building a life together.
But that could be a pipedream. After all, this woman literally skipped the country to get away from me. I fear that she isn’t going to take my sudden appearance in the way I’d like.
Something serious made her leave me. I have very little hope that she’s been sitting around here waiting for me to return and sweep her off her feet. A guy can still wish, though.
My plan was to walk straight up to the front door and announce my presence the second I got to the address of the cottage Aubrey sent me, but as I walked down the street, her voice hit my ears and I was powerless but to hide behind a bush like a pussy and listen to her.
The emotion in her voice as she spoke to Miles threatened to break me. All I wanted to do was pull her into my arms, hold her tight and tell her that everything was going to be okay. That whatever it was, I’d make sure that she was okay.
That’s my job after all, as her husband.
But I couldn’t. So instead, I gave her space to talk to her brother, all the while letting the softness of her voice wash over me like the warm breeze.
When she hung up, I almost moved and announced my presence, but before I could, she’d hopped up and disappeared.
With more nerves than I think I’ve felt in my entire life, I invited myself into the small yard she was sitting in and placed the huge bouquet of English roses on the small table in the middle of the space.
I ordered them before leaving Chicago and collected them the second I arrived in the village less than twenty minutes ago.
The second I saw them, I was hit with a wave of nostalgia so strong it almost knocked me to the floor. The image of her walking toward me on our wedding day carrying an almost identical bouquet was so vivid in my mind.
Taking a step back, I tucked myself under an ornate archway that I’m sure will be covered in colorful flowers in the months ahead, and then just waited.
And that’s exactly where I’m still standing when she finally re-emerges from the small cottage she’s been staying in for the past two weeks.
The sight of her takes my breath away.
Her dark hair is twisted up on the top of her head, loose strands hanging around her neck and blowing in the breeze. She’s wearing a knee-length denim dress with a thick knit cream cardigan over the top.
I might only be able to see her from the back, but I already know she looks beautiful. She’s Tatum; how could she look any other way?
She manages four steps before noticing the flowers, and when she does, her entire body tenses.
My heart lurches into my throat, making it hard to take in the breaths I need as I wait for reality to hit her. I know the second it does that she’s going to search for me.
Who else would have left those flowers there?
Time stops. The world ceases to exist as I wait for her to do something.
Anything.
She can turn around and hit me with the flowers if she wants, as long as I get some kind of reaction. I can deal with her anger, with her hatred—I’ve done it all before. But what I can’t deal with is apathy.
If she even tries to pretend that she doesn’t care…fuck. I can’t even comprehend it.
Just when I start to believe that she’s not going to look for me, slowly her eyes lift from the flowers and she begins to scan the yard.
My heart races and my hands tremble as I attempt to prepare myself for what could come. It could go one of a million ways.
When she doesn’t find me in front of her, she begins turning around.
My breath catches, and I don’t release it until she’s facing me, and then it comes out in a rush of relief.
She’s here, standing before me, looking like the most beautiful thing in the world.
Her face is clear of makeup, her eyes are wide and hold a sparkle of life that gives me hope that everything might just be salvageable, and her lips are parted in shock as the air crackles like a livewire between us.