Page 232 of The Unwilling Bride
I pay, and in half an hour, I'm parking at the foot of Waterloo Bridge. I head across it, pausing when I reach the center. I can see the London Eye and the Tower Bridge, all lit up. It’s where we stopped late that night. My watch tells me it’s close to two a.m. The same time we arrived here that day.
Like that night, the bridge is deserted.
Except for the city lights, which kept us company. They were witness as I held her in my arms. And kissed her. And she kissed me back.
A thousand little butterflies seem to take flight in my chest. This feeling of being on the edge of something monumental… This is what I felt then. It felt like I was on a rollercoaster and my life was no longer within my control. My emotions were no longer my own. My heart… I’d already given her my heart in that one kiss.
It was more than a meeting of our lips. It was a meeting of our souls. The culmination of a magical night, when we were so absorbed in each other, we didn’t feel the passage of time.
We didn’t make love with our bodies that night. But our hearts, our spirits, intertwined in a way that locked us in together and never let go over the years.
I remember her touch, the trembling of her curves against mine. She felt soft. She smelled delicious, like my favorite dream come true. She smelled like my future. Felt like hope.
I jam my fingers in my pocket. My fingers brush my…her hair tie. She dropped it in my Wrangler. I found it after I dropped her home.
I can remember every detail of that night. I never forgot it. Because I fell in love with her then.
The realization hits me like blindly walking into a plate glass door. It was right there all along, and I thought I could walk past without acknowledging it.
I've been so busy trying to control everything, I failed to notice that my desperate need for control was controlling me.
I've allowed my fears to dictate my actions. I convinced myself that keeping a leash on my emotions is a show of strength, when it's a show of cowardice.
But I am not a coward.
Facing my fears, embracing my feelings, and stating them out loud is the ultimate act of bravery. It’s how I take control of my future and create the life I truly want.
I glance at the lights of the city reflected in the dark waters of the Thames.
I need to tell her that I love her. She deserves to know the intensity of my feelings for her. I need to take the leap and join her on the precipice. It's time to stop hiding.
Mind made up, I spin around and head back to my Jeep.
Hold on, Ember, I’m coming.
65
Harper
"So, he let you move in with your sister, and he’s been fine about it?" Zoey swigs from her bottle of water.
We’re jogging along the Regent’s Canal. It’s Tuesday morning. Six days since I moved out of James’ penthouse.
It’s my day off, and I woke up, determined to get some outdoor time.
Zoey joined me.
"He says he’s fine." I say between pants. "But the way he looks at me in the kitchen, implies he’s slowly losing it."
It hasn't been easy, being in the kitchen with him. Oh, he’s been polite. Very polite. Which adds to the feeling of slowly building tension.
He has been unnervingly even-tempered. The cold, surgical anger that defined him has vanished. No cutting remarks. No scathing critiques that leave me wanting to hurl something at him.
He hasn't compromised an inch on the food. Yet, he’s leading the team to perfection without the usual psychological warfare.
The brigade is rattled.
They glance at him out of the corners of their eyes, whispering in the shadows of the prep station. A few have cornered me, asking in hushed voices what’s wrong with him. We haven’t told them I’ve moved out, but they can feel the shift in the air.
