Martin looked taken aback but slowly nodded. “Fair enough.” Clearing his throat, he said, “Oh, I almost forgot.” Reaching into his briefcase again, he pulled out a thick bunch of papers. “This is yours.” Sliding it to Della, he waited for her to read the title and glance up.
“Did you read it?” Her fingers traced the words The Boy & His Ribbon by Della Wild.
“Yes.”
I winced. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to arrest me for falling in love with a minor or incest.”
He chuckled. “No. As much as society thinks we’re out to ruin lives, we know when we come across good people, and you are good people. In fact…” His hand disappeared a final time into that damn briefcase, coming out with a framed piece of parchment. A matte black frame and simple glass, but as he pushed it toward me, it became my most precious thing in the world.
Utterly priceless because it finally allowed me to do what I’d been wanting to do for years.
It gave me a wish before I could have no more.
“I-I don’t understand.” I didn’t dare touch it.
I couldn’t.
Is it real?
Della started to cry. John welled up again. And I just kept staring, afraid, ecstatic, disbelieving.
“It’s not going to bite you, Ren.” Martin laughed. “It’s legitimate. You have my word. It also means you’ll have to start paying taxes now we know you exist.”
“I-I don’t know what to say.” My hand tentatively stroked the glass, the reflection of the lights above dancing over the letters below.
“Don’t need to say anything. You deserve it. I’m sorry it took almost thirty-one years to have one.” He cleared his throat when no one said anything, adding, “You guys love each other. It’s obvious to anyone who meets you. I suggest you do something about making the name Mclary a thing of the past.”
Standing, he picked up his briefcase and strode to the door. “Oh, I also took the liberty of doing something I overheard about birthdays. I hope you don’t mind.” Tapping his temple, he smiled. “I’ll let myself out. But if you ever need anything, you know where I am.”
I barely managed a goodbye before my attention locked back on the birth certificate in front of me.
My birth certificate.
The birth certificate registered and legal in the name Della gave me.
Ren Wild.
And his birthday?
27th of June.
The same day as Della’s…just as it should be.
For a second, all I could do was stare.
I was legal.
I was real.
I never believed something so simple could be so damn bittersweet.
I had permission to marry, all while serving a death sentence.
Pressure wrapped around my lungs with black affliction, but then my heart drowned it out with red affection. I was still alive, here and now. I still had Della, today and tomorrow. I still had a future, shortened but valued.
Time was never on our side.
It didn’t matter then, and it didn’t matter now.
Nothing mattered but us.
In a rush of daring, reckless true love, I stood so fast my chair toppled to the floor.
Eyes widened at my explosive behaviour, then gasps fell as I sank to one knee before the ribbon-hearted girl I’d loved forever.
Her blue eyes became twin puddles of tears as I grabbed her hand, kissed her knuckles, and whispered, “Della Donna Mclary…”
She flinched in my hold, and John’s hands curled on the table.
My voice caught as I couldn’t hold back my desperate, desperate need to have her as my own. Selfish, yes. Sad, absolutely. I would make her a widow before long, but even that couldn’t stop me.
She was mine.
It was written in the stars and scribed in the galaxies, and nothing on earth could change that.
This was true inevitability, utter undeniability.
I didn’t even need to ask a question.
“Marry me.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
DELLA
* * * * * *
2034
DO YOU HATE me?
Do you hate me for taking you on this journey, making you fall in love with Ren, all while knowing how it ends?
Do you hate me for telling the truth?
Believe me, I’ve often wondered if I should change our ending. If I should lie and create the perfect happily ever after—just like Ren wanted me to.
But…whenever I type a chapter full of happy fakery, it seems so forgetful, so cliché, so counterfeit.
At least, I gave you a warning. If you read the words I chose and saw the message I shared, you’d know.
You’d know more than I ever did.
In fact, you know more than I did back then, and I sympathise with the pain you’re going through.
Ren.
My Ren.
The answer to my puzzle, the conclusion to my journey, the man I was always meant to belong to.
He wasn’t immortal, after all.
But…I have to be honest. I have to make you see.
This was never that sort of tale.
This wasn’t a romance—I was blatant about that from the start.
This wasn’t even a love story—even though love is the only thing that matters.