“You know you are,” I tell him truthfully. “I love you and want to spend my life with you.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want, Nevaeh? To spend every day for the rest of your life with me?”
“Yes,” I answer immediately, not needing to think about it. I know it’s what I want. I want Ethan right now and forever.
His eyes light up and his lips curve into a beautiful smile. “I love you, Angel,” he murmurs. “And I’m going to spend the rest of our lives making you happy.”
I grin at his words, thinking he’s going to give in.
“Then make love to me, please. That’ll make me happy.”
He assesses me for a long moment, and whatever he’s looking for, he must find, because he nods once and kisses me passionately.
Nevaeh
Ethan’s tongue glides across my top lip and then my bottom before it delves into my mouth, stroking my own. I moan into his mouth and reach for the button on his pants, needing him to finally be inside me.
He laughs softly, pushing my hand away. “Patience, Mrs. Romero,” he chides playfully. “I told you I’d make love to you and I will, but first I want to explore every inch of my gorgeous wife’s body, starting with her mouth.”
My heart swells. Mrs. Romero. I’m no longer Nevaeh Hansen. I am Nevaeh Romero, Ethan’s wife. My thoughts go back to twelve hours ago when I thought Ethan’s nod meant he was going to give in, only to be reminded of what I already knew, what he’s already proven: Ethan Romero will always put me first—even when I don’t feel like that’s what he’s doing at the time.
Twelve Hours Ago
Ethan devours my mouth for several seconds, efficiently taking my breath away, before he pulls back slightly and rolls onto his side. Confused as to why he’s suddenly stopped when he’s just agreed to make love to me, I glance over at him. His caramel eyes are smooth and shine with the perfect mixture of love and lust, and my heart flutters behind my ribcage. Nobody has ever looked at me the way Ethan does—without even speaking or touching me, he somehow manages to make me feel wanted and cherished, like I’m his entire world.
“Ethan, what’s going on?” I ask, confused, and if I’m honest, a bit impatient.
“I’m going to make love to you, Nevaeh.” He rubs his thumb along my bottom lip. “Every day for the rest of our lives if I have it my way.” His words cause my body to freeze. Luckily, he doesn’t notice.
“Okay…”
“But first I’m going to make you my wife.” He rolls onto his elbow. “Marry me, Angel. I’ll book us a flight to Vegas and we’ll be there in a few hours. Make me the happiest man in the world and become my wife, and then I promise I’ll make love to you, the way it’s supposed to be, as your husband. Every goddamn day for the rest of our lives.”
Tears pricks my eyes. Ethan wants to marry me. He wants to be my husband…for the rest of our lives. Emotion clogs my throat. Can I do that? Can I marry him? Would that be selfish? He’s been through so much. Losing his baby, his fiancée and mom leaving… would marrying him make me a horrible person?
What if I’m honest with him? Would he understand? Would he still want to marry me? He deserves to know the truth. To go into this marriage knowing all the facts.
“I can’t,” I tell him. “I’m sorry. I can’t marry you.” Tears slide down my cheeks.
“What? Why not?” he asks, hurt evident in his tone.
“Because you deserve better than me.” I choke out a sob, and he sits up, pulling me into his lap so I’m straddling him.
“I deserve you, baby. What’s going on?”
“I-I haven’t been honest with you,” I admit, closing my eyes in shame at what I’ve kept from him.
“What is it? Whatever it is we’ll deal with it together.”
Taking a deep breath, I open my eyes back up and, looking him in the eyes, I tell him something nobody knows. “I’m going to die.”
His eyes widen in horror and shock, then his brows dip low in confusion. “Nevaeh, you’re going to have to give me more than that. You have my mind wandering to every worst-case scenario. We’re all going to die eventually. That’s how life works…”
“I have a Meningioma tumor. It’s why I get dizzy and lightheaded… have frequent headaches.” I swallow the golf-ball-sized lump in my throat. “I was diagnosed a few years ago. I fell and hit my head and my mom insisted I go to the hospital. When they ran tests, they saw it. Because I was over eighteen, I told them I didn’t want anyone, especially my mother, to know.”
Ethan grips the curves of my hips and squeezes. “Okay, but with all the medicinal advancements, it’s curable, right?”