Wilde Love (Forever Wilde 6)

Blue thrust a key card envelope into our hands. “Why don’t you go take a break in your room first? You must be exhausted from the trip.”

I smiled and said my thanks before allowing Rebecca to lead us away to our room. When we got behind closed doors, Wes pulled me in for a tight hug.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said into my neck. The sound was muffled, and I wondered if I’d misheard.

“Weston, at this point you could shoot someone in the face and you wouldn’t lose me. In fact, I’ve actually seen you shoot someone in the face, and it was after that I fell in love with you. What that says about me, I’m a little unsure. But I’m sure as shit not leaving you now. For one, I’d never find a replacement foot warmer for my bed.”

“Stop. Be serious. I mean it.”

I pulled back and looked at him, caressing the sides of his handsome face with my fingers. “Why are you so affected by this? I’ve tried to understand it, but… I mean, Wes, life’s too short. What do you have to lose?”

He moved us over to the sitting area by the sliding glass doors that led to a patio off the back of the lodge. Before joining him on the love seat, I slid the doors open to let some of the cooler air into the stuffy room. The pale winter sun streamed over a long expanse of lawn, and I could see rows of dormant grapevines in the distance.

When I joined him on the love seat, he tried to explain. “It started off that I was afraid to show myself to my family because they thought I was a deviant. Then I thought maybe I was a criminal. Then it became this… almost like a habit to stay away. It was easier to put it aside and forget about my old life. But now?” He sighed. “Now I feel like an idiot. I feel like I have to explain why I wasted sixty-seven years. Sixty-seven years when I could have had Matilda in my life.”

“It’s never too late. The past is done.”

Wes’s voice croaked in agony, and his eyes filled. “Her best friends are gay. Her grand… nephews, or whatever, are gay. How could I have thought she wouldn’t want me in her life because I was gay? How can I face her now and try to make her understand?”

I’d known all along it had been fear and shame of her judgment, of letting her down, that had kept him from his beloved sister all this time, but it was still impossible to witness my love in pain. I threw my arms around his neck and held tight while he cried out his nerves and regrets.

A woman’s voice came from the open sliding doors. “You don’t have to make me understand, Weston. You just have to let me get to know you now.”

We looked up and saw her there. Tilly stood upright and regal, her expensive clothing and hairstyle telling of her comfortable life. An attractive white-haired man stood quietly by her side with an arm around her waist.

My husband was a complete wreck. “I’m so sorry, Tilly,” he choked out, standing and reaching out a hand for her. “How can you ever forgive me for leaving you?”

She reached out a slender-fingered hand like a queen, but the quiver in her chin revealed her own nerves. “I forgave you a very, very long time ago, brother. All I ever wanted for you is what I’ve wanted for my own nieces and nephews and all of their children. Peace. Love. A happy life.”

They clutched hands for a beat before falling into each other’s arms and holding tight.

“And it sounds like you had all those things,” Tilly said softly into Wes’s ear. “I’m so happy for you, Weston.”

They pulled back and chuckled at the emotional mess we all were. I spotted a box of tissues on the side table and held it out to them. “I’m Liam Wilde, Weston’s husband. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

Instead of offering her hand again, Tilly stepped into my arms for a hug. “Thank you for loving him,” she said in my ear.

“Easiest thing I’ve ever done,” I croaked. “Now stop making me cry and introduce me to your handsome man in case I want an upgrade someday.”

Tilly pulled back and chuckled. “This is my better half. Harold Cannon.”

The man smiled and shook my hand. “So nice to meet you, Liam.”

“Please call me Doc. Everyone does. Wait. You’re Senator Cannon.”

He nodded. “Used to be anyway. Call me Harry, please.”

Tilly couldn’t stop staring at Wes. “God, you’re an old man. Look at those ears.”

Wes barked out a laugh. “Brat.”

“She’s right though. I call them his Ferengi ears,” I confided. “Please come on in and have a seat. I’m going to hunt down some drinks and snacks for us while you two catch up.”