“Holy shit.”
Della whacked me on the shoulder. “Language.”
I laughed, daring to grab a piece of lightness in all of this. “Sorry, Doctor Mackenzie.”
“Bah, I’ve heard worse. And call me Rick. Think we’re on first-name terms now that I’m healing ya.”
Della bent and pressed her head against the phone, trying to hear. I pulled it away and put it on speaker so we both could listen.
Coughing just a little, I asked, “So…what now?”
“Now? We keep you on three weekly treatments and watch for more progress. If, in a few months’ time, your lungs show significant improvement, you come off the drug and are announced in stable condition.”
Don’t ask.
Don’t ask.
“And my prognosis?”
I asked.
Shit.
This was a happy time.
The best of times.
I shouldn’t ruin it by asking for the new date of my death.
However, Rick laughed encouragingly, light-hearted even, infecting me with his optimism. “Screw one to two years, Ren. You’ve just bought yourself a few more. I don’t know how many more, but you’re young, only stage one, and prepared to do whatever it takes. That in itself puts you miles ahead. As far as I’m concerned, we’ll keep you alive for however long you decide.”
“Forever.” Standing, I pressed a kiss to Della’s lips, talking more to her than my doctor. “I choose forever.”
She kissed me back, breathing, “Forever, Ren. A hundred forevers.”
“On that note, I’m gonna leave you two newlyweds to enjoy the good news. See you soon, Ren.” Rick hung up.
Tossing the phone onto the bed, I swooped my wife into my arms and spun her around. “I hope you didn’t marry me thinking I’d be dead in a couple of years, Mrs Wild.”
Her head tipped back, blonde hair flying, diamond ring glinting. “God, you calling me that does things to me.”
“Things?”
Her lips crashed down on mine. “Bad things. Wet things.”
I stumbled to the wall, wedging her beside our old dresser. “I mean it, Della. I’m going to fight. Every fucking day.”
“And I’m going to love you, every fucking day.” She plastered my face with kisses like she used to do when she was a kid and excitement overflowed.
“Language.” I nipped at her lip.
“Kiss me, husband.” Her lips kissed every part of me, from chin to throat to ear.
I loved she still retained that childish enthusiasm.
I loved that she was giddy with joy, celebrating the best news of all.
Her lips gave up their flurry of kisses, seeking my mouth with sweet desperation.
I matched her with a different kind of fury.
One of bittersweet relief and explosive gratefulness.
I’d sworn my life to this woman.
We no longer had to play pretend husband and wife.
We were real.
As real as any other couple and just as permitted to love unconditionally.
And yet, I would forever be more than just a husband to Della. And she would forever be more than just my wife.
Our relationship would always have a different depth to it.
A unique connection that had been formed thanks to so many facets of love.
Love that had already been tested in so many different ways.
Breaking the kiss, I grabbed her hand and twirled her wedding ring.
“Wild forever and always.” I quoted the inscription. “Time means nothing when it comes to true love. Promise me you understand that.”
She searched my eyes, finding nothing but my soul bare and hers for the taking.
Death would still come for me.
But for now…we were hiding.
Hiding out of its reach, creating a life that would be so infinitely precious and pure.
She blinked back tears. “I understand, Ren.”
“Good.”
She smiled softly. “Fine.”
The familiarity of such a silly phrase meant we didn’t end up camping that night.
We fell together and consummated our marriage in the very same beds where we’d denied such a future from existing.
From children to adults.
From friends to soulmates.
Forever.
Forever.
And always.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
REN
* * * * * *
2021
“REN?”
John lugged his big body from the couch where he’d been nursing a beer. “Can I have a word?”
Liam sat on the floor with his very pregnant girlfriend, and Adam had his wife, Carly, on his lap while their two kids played on the carpet.
Since Della and I hadn’t made it to the forest for our honeymoon, the Wilsons had improvised and hosted an all-day affair of just hanging out. And for once, I didn’t mind being around people.
These weren’t just people.
They were our people.
Family.
Cassie had hired a last-minute caterer to feed us, seeing as Patricia’s culinary magic was no more, and the Wilson grandchildren did a good job at pegging up the hole left by her missing presence—even though nothing could replace such an amazing woman.
Della and I were planning on going away tonight. We’d have a few days to ourselves before I threw myself back into my farm chores, saved some cash, and planned where we would live.
The one bedroom in the stable was too cramped, and although I’d had such good news yesterday, I wouldn’t take any bonus years for granted.