He tries to smile, but it’s more of a wince. “Okay. Promise.” He lifts one hand, closing his fist and leaving his little finger sticking out.
My heart squeezes in my chest. I smile and mirror his movement, wrapping my little finger around his as we pinkie swear. That’s all it takes to make me lose it. The sobs come again, and I press my face into the side of his neck, crying with relief. His hand comes up to the back of my head, winding in my hair.
“Amy, it’s okay. I’m all right.”
“I nearly lost you. You almost died,” I whimper and pull back, my eyes meeting his as his other hand comes up to cup my cheek. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Thinking what if you died, not knowing how I felt about you.”
His eyes search my face. “I thought you didn’t know how you felt.”
I close my eyes and savour his touch. I never thought I would hear his voice again, feel his hands on my skin, see those eyes looking at me with so much hope that it feels like I have his life in my hands.
“I know,” I whisper.
“Yeah?” His voice is hesitant yet desperate.
I nod and open my eyes, looking down at him as I say the words, “Yeah. I’m crazy in love with you, Jared Stone. Just you. I love everything about you. You’re perfect to me. I love everything from your OCD-cleaning brain, right down to your Love Island–hating toes. I love every single part of you. I’m so sorry I doubted that, even for a second. I was confused, but I know now. I love you. Just you. Only ever you.” That is the truth, my soul laid bare.
Theo might have started out as my Man Crush Monday on those train journeys, but Jared is my Man Crush Every Day. I love the very essence of him.
A devastatingly heartbreaking grin slips onto his face, and there are the crinkles around the eyes that I love so much. They’re scratched and marred with a bruise, but they’re there.
“Are you sure?” he asks, stroking my face, his eyes lighting up with undisguised hope.
“Yeah,” I confirm.
He presses his lips together, thinking. “But how do you know? How do you go from not knowing to being sure? I need you to tell me you’re sure because I can’t go through this again. I need to know you’re one hundred percent mine because I don’t want to have to worry about this for the rest of my life, baby. Tell me how you know. What changed?” His eyes are so vulnerable that it pierces my soul.
I gulp, dropping my eyes to the freckle on his cheek. “I don’t want to tell you how I know. I’m ashamed to say it out loud.”
“Amy, please?” There are tears in his eyes, and I can see how much he needs this reassurance.
As the man who has always felt second best in his life, he needs to know that what we have is real, that I choose him. I can see the doubt there, the disbelief; he’ll always worry about it otherwise.
So, I look into his eyes, and I tell him the truth. I can’t lie. I never have been able to, and I don’t want to start now, especially not to him. “When you were brought to the hospital after your accident, they didn’t know which twin was which because you’d both put your wallets in your gym bags,” I begin.
He swallows, watching me, enraptured. “Okay?”
“Your parents were an hour away at your auntie’s house, so they asked me to come to the hospital and see if I could tell which was which.”
I’m crying again now, and he softly brushes away a tear from my cheek with the pad of his thumb.
“They took me to see Theo. He was unconscious; you were already in surgery. When I saw him, I could tell.”
His lips pop open, and he nods in understanding. “The mole.”
“The mole,” I repeat, reaching out and gently touching it. A wave of shame washes over me, absolute revulsion for myself. I don’t want to admit the rest out loud, but he needs me to. “When I saw that little mark on his right cheek, I’ve never been so devastated in my whole life. It broke my heart. And I knew right then and there that if I had the chance to swap you both—have you safe downstairs with a broken leg and Theo upstairs, fighting for his life in surgery—I would do it in a heartbeat. I wouldn’t hesitate for a second if it meant you would be okay. You were all I cared about. That’s how I know.”
Jared has gone quiet and still.
I chew on my lip and fight another wave of loathing for myself. I will never forgive myself for wishing Theo in harm’s way, but I can’t and won’t take it back. If the decision had been mine, Jared would have been the one home already with a broken leg. No question.
I sniff. “So, there you go. Now, you know I’m a despicable, horrible person.”
He nods slowly, his eyes burning into mine in understanding. “Yeah, but you’re my despicable, horrible person.”
He smiles, and my heart stutters in my chest.
“Really?” I whimper.
His smile widens. “Amy, just shut up and kiss me.”
And so I do.
epilogue
I close my eyes and let my head drop back on my shoulders as I inhale the sweet, almost sickly scent of the hundreds of white roses and lilies that have been purchased and expertly woven into beautiful displays and arrangements for today. Quiet music plays from inside the church, hauntingly drifting out, making the hairs on my arms stand up on end. I smile as the May sunshine warms my face. I feel completely at peace and deliriously happy.
Today is a good day to get married.
Sighing in contentment, I open my eyes and lean forward, peeking through the open doors into the church. My eyes land on Jared, standing up at the front with Tim and a couple of other groomsmen. He looks both relaxed and eager. My gaze wanders over him in his suit, and I bite my lip in appreciation. He looks worthy of an actual, legit swoon, and I can’t wait to get down to the end of the aisle because, as nice as the flowers smell, I know he will smell even better. He looks ridiculously handsome today, decked out in his wedding attire. I smile and feel sorry for the rest of the wedding party, having to stand next to Jared and pale in comparison.
My love for him is overwhelming; sometimes, it really does feel too much, too scary, too perfect.
I haven’t seen him since yesterday. Per tradition, last night was the stag and hen nights, and I spent the night with Heather and the girls in a beautiful hotel room, drinking margaritas and eating pizza and M&M’s. I missed him something rotten.
When the elderly church helper sticks her head out and spots us, she smiles. “Ooh, you’re here. I’ll give them the signal!” she chirps excitedly and turns to give the vicar a wave.
The soft music stops, and the wedding march starts up.
My breath catches in my throat, and I grip my pretty bouquet of roses, turning to look back at the girls standing with me, sending Heather a wink. My feet are itching to race me down the aisle, and I can barely stand still as I wait for my turn to walk up the little carpet and get to the front. My heart is racing.
When it’s finally my turn, I step around the corner and beam a smile, loving how everyone is turned to watch me walk. I feel stunning in my dress with my hair all up in an impossibly cute up-do with loose curls around my face.
The church looks beautiful as I focus on putting one foot in front of the other and not to stumble in my two-inch heels. (Heather insisted I wasn’t to wear my Converse.) The guests murmur how gorgeous I look, and I glow with pride as I walk down the aisle.