Forbidden Bride

Nicola is perfectly still, looking at me with something like disbelief and awe. But she says nothing.

“I’m here to claim what you offered. You said that you wanted to marry me, and that’s what I plan on doing, Nicola. I’m going to marry you, and I’m never going to walk away again.”

5

Nicola

I can’t recall the number of times that I’ve wished for Tristan to come back into my life and say the exact words that he’s saying right now. That he wants me. Wants to marry me. I just wish it had been back then when things were simpler. It would have been so easy then.

“We should go,” I say, standing from the table. “I’ve got a lot of work to do.” I don’t wait before walking out of Callie’s and into the cold January air. Tristan is behind me in a second, and he catches me by the arm. “Is that it?”

“Is what it?”

He laughs, backing me against the wall. “I just told you I came back to Leighton City to marry you, and all you said was need to go back to the office.”

I shake my head. It’s impossible to breathe with him this close. But maybe he doesn’t understand what this will do to everyone. To him and to me. To his relationship with my dad. But I do. I’ve had four years of thinking about every single outcome and possibility. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want you to tell me what you’re thinking,” he says, face level with mine. “I want you to tell me to stop, if that’s what you want. It’s been a long time, and I’m man enough to know that things might have changed for you. I can handle it, if you want me to walk away.”

Nothing comes out of my mouth. I try to force out the words, to tell him that I don’t want this, but nothing happens. The truth is written so deeply in me that my body won’t betray that even if I try to force it to. Dammit.

“But if you don’t tell me to stop,” he says, “I’m not backing down. I’m not going to let you go, Nicola, because you were right. You were right that night.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, that lie manages to escape and it burns my lips.

One of Tristan’s eyebrows lifts. “No? I’m calling bullshit.”

“What do you remember?”

His green eyes are brimming with fierce emotion, his cheeks pink with the cold air, but neither of us move away. “I remember you waiting for me in the kitchen in a dress that made me so hard. I remember you letting me touch you for the first time. I remember you painting the future you imagined for us and promising that I was it for you, no matter how long it took. I remember you saying that you knew what you wanted and that it would never change.” His voice drops low and he breathes the next words into my ear. “I remember you saying that you wanted my cock to be the only one you ever felt. And I’m going to deliver on that promise.”

Placing my hands on his chest, I slowly push him back from me. “You know what I remember?” I say. “I remember pouring my heart out to you and then you leaving. I remember waking up the next morning and finding you had left the city. I remember crying for days over you, not being able to explain to anyone what was wrong. You left me, Dash. You ran away. So don’t think that you can sweep in here and just decide that you’re ready for me without me asking what the hell happened or wanting an explanation. Fuck.”

I turn and walk a few steps away. The air is filled with deafening silence behind me. I didn’t mean to explode like that, but it’s true. Aside from all the obvious complications, he left me.

Tristan’s voice is soft behind me. “You’ll never know how much I regret that decision,” he says. “I will always regret it and I will always have to live with it. But it wasn’t easy for me either. I didn’t leave to go on a joyride to find myself.” He turns me around and presses his forehead to mine. The anguish in his voice is real. “You don’t know why I had to do it, but I had to. You don’t know what I was afraid of, but I was afraid, Nicola. I’m still afraid, but you are worth the fear. I swear it. And all I can do is beg your forgiveness for not figuring it out sooner.”

His eyes are closed, and I swear that I can feel his pain. It’s just as visceral as mine has been, waiting for him. “Is this about my father?”