The Girl and Her Ren (The Ribbon Duet 2)

Echoes of her promising that we’d always be together, even past death, made me clutch her as hard as I could.

She squeaked a little in protest, but I tipped her chin up with my knuckles and kissed her lips. I’d wanted to keep the kiss tame and sweet, but the moment I tasted her, my tongue crept into her mouth and hers met mine in invitation.

A quick kiss turned into a sensual make-out, our lips gliding, tongues dancing, hearts kicking.

And when I finally pulled back, my chest burned with the same promise she’d given me. “You have my word in return. If anything happens to me, I’ll wait for you to join me. You’re mine, Della. Always will be.”

She relaxed, breathing easier. “Good.”

“Fine,” I murmured, like we usually did at the end of an argument, releasing the final tension.

Reclining into the pillows still fully dressed, I waited until Della found a comfortable position with her head on my chest and body spooning my side before I stroked her hair with shaking fingers. “Now, go to sleep, woman. I’m not going anywhere.”

It was a promise I kept all night.

I didn’t undress, and I didn’t sleep, but as I held the girl who was my everything, and she slipped into slumber and her body went lax against mine, I whispered into her moonbeam painted hair, “I hope to be the man you deserve, Della Ribbon. I hope I can give you everything your heart desires. And then, when we’ve lived a life rich in so many things, I hope I die before you. Because if I don’t, I know I won’t survive a day without you. I can’t.”

My voice hovered like smoke as I sucked in a gasp with how true that was. It wasn’t an empty sentence. It was every truth imaginable, and, in some inexplicable way, I hoped whatever rules of fate governed our lives heard me and understood how deadly serious I was.

It was my prayer.

My penance for taking Della all those years ago.

She gave me a life and taught me how to be happy. And if she left me, I would no longer want that life without her.

It was selfish and cruel to wish such a thing, but I knew who was stronger out of the two of us, and it wasn’t me.

Cradling her in the moonlight, I looked out the window at the stars.

I was her watcher and protector.

And I never let her go…all night.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

DELLA

* * * * * *

2031

THAT WAS THE turning point for us.

The moment where life got in the way of our fantasy, bringing us both back to earth with a crash.

Still, to this day, I get mad at myself for ruining such an idyllic existence.

I wish I could rewind time and remember to use alternate protection. I should’ve told Ren that we might not be safe.

An honest mistake was the biggest catalyst of our lives.

But really…it turned out for the best.

Things were about to happen that meant our past and future blended in a way we never expected.

Surprises that we never wanted inched closer to being known.

Wishes would come true and promises would be kept.

And one of those life-changing five incidents crept ever nearer.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

REN

* * * * * *

2019

THE NEXT DAY, I was better equipped after my meltdown the night before.

I kissed Della good morning, showered away my sleeplessness and worry, and focused on being the strong one and not some nutcase who wished upon a star, asking for something as morbid as death before another.

That was my secret, and she would never know just how fundamental she was to me.

That sort of pressure wasn’t fair to anyone, and it was my fault I felt that way. My fault that she’d turned from my charge to my friend to my lover.

She didn’t have the luxury of entering my life when I was fully developed with other significant relationships to lean on. She was my significant relationship in every way, and that sort of connection wasn’t exactly easy.

Once I was dressed and Della comfortable with the TV on and painkillers in her system, I popped out like any normal city dweller, and bought her a chocolate croissant and coffee from the bakery two stores over, rather than eat with other guests.

At least, my body was back to being mine again with no breathlessness or palpitations. Stress had almost killed me last night and I refused to let it happen again. I would remain calm and reasonable, so I could provide the best possible care for Della.

When I returned, we ate breakfast in bed, laughed at some kid’s cartoon, and reminisced about the bad reception and street-salvaged TV at Polcart Farm.

It was simple and lovely and filled me with false belief that she was on the mend.

I’d hoped she’d be able to keep her breakfast down, but ten minutes after finishing, she rushed to the bathroom and retched it all back up.