Goosebumps scattered over my arms as the answer I’d always given her delayed upon my tongue. ‘I’m your brother.’ That wasn’t just incorrect anymore, it was undermining everything good and perfect that’d happened between us.
Putting the groceries down, I tugged her bag free to join the rest, then ran my fingers through her hair until I fisted two handfuls right there on the street. “I never got to give the speech I’d prepared when I came back to find you. I had a whole promise laid out. How I’d come back because I couldn’t live without you. That even if it meant I couldn’t have you, even though it would rip my heart out and leave me bleeding until the day I died, I’d gladly walk you down the aisle on your wedding day. I would’ve given you away to another man, Della, because that was my job in your life. To ensure you had everything you ever needed in which to live. To be happy.”
I trembled as I kissed her softly. “But then I read your manuscript, and I realised I could be the one to make you happy, so I said other things. So much more important things.” Digging my fingers harder into her hair, I murmured against her mouth, “So, if they ask who I am to you…there’s only one thing you can say.”
“What’s that?” she breathed, shivering with matching goosebumps.
“That you share my last name. That you own my heart.” I kissed her hard and fast, long and lingering. “Tell them…you’re my wife.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
DELLA
* * * * * *
2031
WHEN REN KISSED me that day on the street, he didn’t know it, but he gave me every hope I’d been nursing since we’d fought with the truth and gave in.
Our last name was as much his as it was mine, and I didn’t want to change. But how could we not when Wild had been a sibling address, and these days, we were so much more than that?
I’d teased with the idea that it could be our married one, sure, but until Ren said the words I’d been fighting, I didn’t think it was possible.
He successfully made me float on air, wrapped me up in daydreams, and sent me gooey with desire.
After that, I didn’t really care what we did as long as he was always near.
We went to the doctor, filled in forms, ignored side glances when we said we had no I.D, and proudly ticked the ‘married’ box without an ounce of shame.
To start with, the doctor refused to see us without some form of identification.
But Ren quietly took him aside and had a few words. I didn’t know what transpired, but after an hour or so wait, I was ushered in to see a doctor who asked my sexual history, if I was aware of the health risks, and prescribed me the pill to prevent pregnancy.
I asked for more than just three months’ supply, but he was adamant my blood pressure should be checked before a refill was given.
At the time, it frustrated me, but then I remembered it would be winter, and we’d most likely be holed up somewhere close enough to a town not to be a nuisance.
After we’d filled the script at the pharmacy next door, taken another handful of condoms from the fishbowl on the counter saying ‘Free: help your frisky selves,’ my stomach growled, and the diner with its sun-bleached specials in the window and paint-chipped green door reminded me of all the times Ren had found ways to make simple excursions into life-affirming treats.
Looking back, it was yet another moment I had no choice but to write down.
Mainly because of what happened next.
I’d dragged him into the grease-infused restaurant all while he grumbled and kept his eyes glued on the horizon where the tips of the trees waved at us in the chilly breeze. I’d forgotten how unsociable Ren was. After living in the city for so many years, he’d relaxed enough not to hanker for freedom or give the impression he was a trapped animal amongst a cage of glass and brick. But he’d been in his element for too long, and it was a visible chore for him to stay away for long.
I felt the same tug to leave, but I also had the tug of hunger. Taking pity upon him, compromising like a good couple, we agreed to order takeaway cheeseburgers and curly fries, eating the naughty but oh-so-good meal in the tiny park across the street.
Once our bellies were full and fingers salt-dusted from french fries, I stood and expected him to march directly back into the wilderness with me trotting to keep up.
However, his eyes landed on the junk store with its vow to beat K-Mart with its merchandise and prices and, with a determined look, he dragged me into the overly cluttered store with its scents of candle wax and plastic toys, smiling as if he had a secret.