Olivia lets out a little sob, and with my other arm I reach gently around her, my hand settling on her back as I pull her toward me.
"I don't want to be without you," I say, my voice low. "But I know that I can be, if that's what you want. I know I'll survive and I'll be okay, because of you. You made me whole. You took a wretched, broken soul and showed him how to take his life back."
I swallow and pull her just a little bit closer. "I guess what I'm saying is that I don't need you for my survival, Olivia. I know you wouldn't want me that way, all desperate and needy. But that doesn't mean that I'm not scared to death of living without you. And there's nothing I wouldn't give for a second chance with you-a chance to make you happy."
She's still stubbornly silent, and I feel a suspicious prick at the corner of my eyes. I blink rapidly to keep the tears from falling.
"Please, sweetheart. Please."
I don't even know what I'm asking her for.
Anything. Everything.
Love me.
Olivia's eyes don't meet mine. Instead they focus on her hand where it rests against my face. Very slowly she runs a finger down each of my scars the way she did that night by the fire all those weeks ago.
"You're wrong," she says softly.
"About?" My heart is in my throat.
"You said I'd have to see your ugly face every day." Her eyes flick to mine. "You're wrong. You're beautiful."
I close my eyes, hardly daring to hope. My other hand moves around her until I have both arms wrapped securely around her waist, completely unwilling to let her go. I force myself to open my eyes and look at her. No more hiding.
"How do I know you won't leave?" she asks. Her voice is strong but her eyes are vulnerable, and it's like there's a knife in my heart.
I set my lips to hers briefly. Then a second time, because she tastes so good, and I've missed her so much, but I pull back to finish what I've started.
"I'm not going anywhere. And you may not believe me yet, and that's okay, but believe this." I slide my hands up to her face, my thumbs moving over her perfect cheekbones. "Believe that I love you."
Now it's her eyes that close, but I say it again, a little desperately. "I love you, and I understand if that's not enough, but-"
She throws herself at me with so much force that I have to take a step backward to steady us. Her arms go around my neck, her face burrowing there. "It's enough," she says into my skin. "It's enough."
I let out a long breath, feeling as though I can finally breathe for the first time in weeks.
"I'm going to make you love me again," I say against her hair. "I swear it."
Olivia pulls back, her green eyes giving me a withering look. "Don't be an idiot. I never said anything about not loving you anymore."
I inhale. "Yeah?"
She leans forward and gives me a quick, soft kiss. And then a little longer one as our tongues tangle. "Yeah," she says when she pulls back. "I never stopped loving you. Not even for a moment. I was mad, and sad, and a lot doubtful that you were here for the right thing. But that was quite a speech, Langdon. And I'll admit that I'm not blameless here. I pushed you before you were ready, and-"
I put a hand over her mouth in exasperation. "Just . . . don't. You were right to leave when you did, and for the reasons you did. Should I restart my speech again? It seems like you weren't listening."
She giggles, and the sound of it is like heaven. "Bet you didn't factor such swanky digs into your grand plan," she says. "I know the place is gross, but . . . I'm determined to do it on my own, you know? No help from Daddy's credit cards and all that."
I nod. "Okay, then. I'll do the same. But maybe we can do it on our own side by side?"
Her smile lights up her face. "Deal. But I do have a little confession."
My eyes narrow at her mischievous tone. "Yessssss?"
"I got rid of the ugly running shoes you got me. I like my pink ones way better."
I let out a sigh. "You're going to regret it in thirty years. Your joints will be shot, and you'll have to buy special, ugly orthopedic sandals because your feet are all gnarled, and if it gets really bad-"
"If it gets really bad, I can borrow your snake cane," she interrupts. "It'll be my turn to be the cranky cripple."
I lift her up off her feet. "And I'll be there for you. Always."
For Nic. For knowing I should write this book.
Acknowledgments
I've always been a bit of a lone wolf when it comes to writing my books. I write and write and write in a vacuum, with no beta readers and no critique partners. The result? When I come out of the writing cave three days before deadline, I've barely showered and the book is something akin to a hot mess.
Here's the part where I thank the people who help me get it from a jumble of words into a story. My amazing agent, Nicole, stopped everything she was doing to read this book in a day. Yes, a day. She cleaned up the uglies, pointed out the plot gnarlies, and basically single-handedly got this book into submission shape. From there it went to Sue Grimshaw, who whipped the book into shape in record time and with a crazy amount of skill perfectly identified every single plot hole. Nic and Sue, you don't have to work with my crazy methods, but you always, always do . . . and I'm so appreciative.
And to the rest of the all-stars at Random House (you know who you are), thank you. Thank you so much for doing the gritty, behind-the-scenes stuff that doesn't often enough get recognized. You take a document and make it a book, and we authors should thank you every day.