Ronan and I still have the nightmares, but they’re sparse and far in between. We go to joint therapy now, and it’s the best therapy I’ve had in my life.
When it gets to be too much, I just say it. However, it usually doesn’t, because I know I have my family, and most of all, I have him.
Ronan.
The moment he strokes my hair off my face or kisses me, I usually climb on his body and demand he fucks me.
Of course, he obliges, and he makes it dreamier every time, rougher, harder. Ronan has never treated me as if I’m a delicate flower, and I love him the most for it. Even when he fucks me slow, it’s to make me feel him — feel us — not because he’s afraid of touching me.
Ronan and I are never afraid of touching each other. If anything, it’s what brings us closer and makes us calmer.
We started with a touch. The first time he did it in RES’s library, I kind of fell under his spell and he fell under mine.
Today, I have a surprise for him.
We came to his parents’ house for dinner. Charlotte is finally out of the danger zone. Those couple of months after Eduard’s death were complete hell.
Edric had to make his brother’s death seem like an accident, and Charlotte’s illness was taking its toll on him and Ronan. I held my fiancé’s hand through it all until the results came out and the doctor said the last surgery had been a success.
She had to do a lot of recovery therapy, and Edric didn’t leave her side through it all. Ronan didn’t either.
One of my favourite memories about that time was when Edric asked Ronan for forgiveness for not seeing Eduard’s actions, and Ronan said he was sorry he hadn’t seen his mum’s illness.
Edric and Ronan grew so close during Charlotte’s recovery journey. I think seeing them together by her side helped her mental state more than any doctor would tell them.
Ronan and I were supposed to leave after dinner, but he said he needed to grab something from his room.
He’s been taking a long time, so I might as well ask him now.
“Lars.” I grin when I see him coming out of Ronan’s room. “How do I look?”
I pull on my white T-shirt, on which is written ‘Belle’.
I’m also wearing a black tulle skirt, a leather jacket, and boots — comfy, as usual.
“That’s the second time you’ve asked me that question tonight, Miss Teal.”
“Stop being such a snob, and it’s only Teal,” I tease.
Lars and I have grown close over time. He wouldn’t admit it, but he always has a dark chocolate bar ready for me then he whines about how I keep stealing them.
“You look beautiful.” He lifts his chin. “And stop eating the chocolate no one offe
rs you.”
I make a face as he strides down the hall then I go into the room.
Okay, this is it.
It’s not like it needs to be traditional or something — not that I care about that anyway.
“Hey, Ronan, when are we getting married…?”
I trail off when I find him in the middle of removing his trousers in front of a bed filled with baskets of dark chocolate.
“Fuck, belle, you weren’t supposed to come in yet.”
I grin. “Don’t stop on my account.”