Chapter Thirty-Six (Jane POV)

"Is he here yet?"

Mom growls at me, as my sudden fidgeting causes her to misapply my eyeliner and nearly poke my eye out in the process. When I complain, she tosses the eyeliner pencil down onto my bed in frustration and says, "It's your own damned fault. You won't sit still."

Fearful of the consequences of moving too much again, I blindly grope around on my nightstand for a tissue to dab my watering eye. "Seriously, Mom? It's my wedding day and you nearly blinded me."

"Again…hold still."

"I just don't know why it's taking Michael so long to get here," I lament petulantly, "Where the hell is that barbershop? Timbuktu?" It's only the fifteenth time I've grumbled about it in the last fifteen minutes (which works out to once every minute I know) and not a thing has changed. It's certainly not helping Michael to arrive any faster. But that doesn't stop me from whining about it again and again.

"You know where he is, Janie," Mom reminds me from behind her clenched teeth, "He's getting a haircut! When it's done, he'll be here! Geez! Now keep still so I can finish or are you wanting to look like a member K.I.S.S. on your wedding day?"

"Fine," I grate, relaxing my face so that she can resume applying my makeup.

Although her sympathy is sorely lacking at this time, I can understand why my mother is irritated with me. I know I am being just the tiniest bit obsessive right now. More than an hour ago, I texted Michael to get an update on his location and estimated time of arrival. He had informed me that he had gotten held up at the barbershop with Rafael of all people but that he would be finished shortly. Naturally then, I had assumed that when he and Rafael arrived they would arrive together. But when Rafael showed up and informed me that Michael was still in the barber's chair, I started to feel a little anxious.

Inevitably, especially in light of our most recent conversation, I begin to wonder whether there might be an underlying reason for Michael's dawdling. Is it possible that he might be having second thoughts? As happy as I am right now, I can't dismiss his confession that he still harbors doubts about me and Rafael. Even after all we've been through and all the promises we've made to each other, he still thinks I might have romantic feelings for another man. I suppose I'm glad he was willing to share his fears with me but, at the same time, I'm thrown.

Of course, he did his best to reassure me that his doubts were fleeting and unimportant in the grand scheme of things but that isn't how it feels to me. I'm suddenly wondering about how he perceives my relationship with Rafael all over again. I don't want him to regard our friendship with suspicion, to constantly side-eye any interaction we might have. I don't want him to spend the entirety of our marriage waiting for the other shoe to drop. And I certainly don't want him to ever regret loving me.

But I know there's really nothing I can say to convince Michael to trust fully in our love. That confidence will only be gained with time and distance but I wish he didn't have those misgivings at all. I wish he could look into my heart somehow because then he could see that he is the only man that occupies it. But he can't do that and, even if he could, it still wouldn't change my feelings about Rafael. This time, I can't tell Michael that I regret falling in love with him again because I don't, which makes the situation doubly hard.

At least the first time around, I had been ashamed of that attraction. I had wanted to take back making that choice to leave Michael altogether. It had been one, colossal mistake that I had wished had never happened. This time, however, I feel differently. Even though I'm no longer in love with Raf, I'm still grateful for his presence in my life and the friendship that bloomed because of it. I'm not ashamed of having fallen in love with him a second time or coming to know the man he's become. In many ways, it was one of the best things that had ever happened to me…and I can completely understand why that might be a sticking point for Michael.

If I were in his place I know I would feel the same way. The only reason I can breathe easy on that front is because Lorena Diaz turned out to be the ultimate fraud. But if she had proven to be to Michael what Rafael is to me, I'm sure the knowledge would have gutted me a little.

So, I realize that there is nothing I can say to truly reassure him. I can tell him over and over again that he is the only one I want but a tiny part of him might always wonder because my history with Rafael is so rich and layered. And even though I've made an effort to maintain some distance between Raf and I because I know that our friendship can't be quite what it had been before, I also know that doing so hasn't aided in reassuring Michael. He probably thinks that I'm pulling back because I'm afraid of my feelings when the truth is, I pulled back because I want him to be all the things to me that Rafael had once been.

I want Michael to know in every possible way that he is my future and the one I choose to be with but not at the expense of diminishing my past with Rafael. I can't cut him out of my life. Even if I wanted to, we share a child and a wealth of experiences together that cannot be easily forgotten. My connection to him feels almost as deep as my connection to Michael, albeit in different ways. It's a difficult situation to be in and I'm not all that sure how I should handle it or how I can put Michael's mind at ease. What I do know for sure is that I don't want to lose him and if the ultimatum were laid down, I would choose him. But I don't want it to come to that.

My thoughts are very jumbled in my head. I don't realize that I'm starting to tear up at the thought until my mom suddenly drops her hand and leans back to regard me with a concerned frown. "I didn't get your eye again, did I?"

"No," I say, rapidly blinking back the forming tears, "It's fine. Are you finished?"

She frowns, her uncanny ability to pick up on the subtle shifts in my mood still as keen as they had been when I was a little girl. "What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on," I brazen.

"Jane, talk to me. Why do you look like you're about to cry and I'm not talking happy tears either?"

"You're wrong." The telltale quaver in my words relays a different story.

"Jane," Mom says in that singsong tone she uses when I'm beginning to try her patience, "Tell me what's wrong with you."

"Michael and I talked on the phone last night."

"And?"

"And he admitted to me that he still has doubts about me and Rafael."

She doesn't say anything to that and I realize it's because she's clearly not shocked by the news. Instead, she's staring at me in expectation, as if she's waiting for me to provide juicier details and when she realizes that there are none to be had, she has a difficult time masking her incredulity. "That's why you're upset?"

"You don't think that's enough? My future husband thinks I have the hots for another man. I'd say that's plenty reason to be upset, Ma!"

"Oh please," Mom snorts, "Michael will be okay. The man has survived worse things! He can deal with a little insecurity. Besides, he knows you want him, Jane. You're marrying him after all."

"But I don't want him to doubt me."

"Sweetheart, you and Michael have been through a traumatic experience together," she explains to me gently, "and, of course, that changed you both in a profound way. He has to deal with knowing that you loved someone else during the time the two of you were separated and so do you. Trust me. You're going to find your balance again."

"But it wasn't just 'someone else,' Ma. It was Rafael, the man that I broke his heart to be with. And my feelings for him were real."

"And Michael knew all of that before he proposed to you again. That tells me that he knows that you love him and that he's trying to work through his feelings about Rafael. So give him time to do that and to make peace with what happened in his own mind."

"But shouldn't he have already made peace with it?" I reason, "Should we really get married with something like this hanging over us?"

"Are you saying you want to call it off?" Mom asks me, aghast by the very idea.

"No. I would never do that! But I also don't want Michael to spend our entire marriage waiting for me to cheat on him with Rafael!"

"I seriously doubt that's what he expects, Jane. Give him some credit…and give yourself some credit too. Marriage is a commitment and a process. You're going to hit bumps and snags along the way. Work through it together."

"But this is a bump I thought we had already smoothed over. What if it never goes away?"

"Do you really believe that?" she demands.

I don't really have to ponder the question very long because I don't. Not even remotely. I know that Michael and I can work our way through anything and I tell her that. "So then embrace that confidence," she advises me, "Today is your wedding day. You are marrying the man that you love. You're expecting a baby with him. These are all good things, Jane, so keep focused on that. Invest in your marriage and your future with Michael and the rest will come."

Overwhelmed with gratitude, I cover her hand with my own and give her fingers a hard squeeze. "Thank you, Mom. When did you get so wise?"

"Near death experience. I wouldn't recommend it."

We're still laughing together when Abuela pokes her head into my bedroom. "Is Michael here?" I ask anxiously as she slips inside.

"No, aún no. Es Petra Solano y su novia." Abuela looks incredibly flustered as she makes the statement. "¿Por qué no me dijiste que Petra estaba saliendo con una mujer?"

"I didn't want to shock you," I reply lamely, "Are you okay?"

"No me corresponde a mí juzgar, pero me sorprendió. Una pequeña advertencia habría sido agradable."

"Sorry about that, Abuela."

She wrings her hands anxiously. "¿Crees que Michael estará aquí pronto? Su madre y Rafael confinados a la misma habitación por un período prolongado de tiempo no parecen una buena idea."

"I'll text him again and see where he is."

But when I twist around on my bed to grab my phone I see that I have a text message from him already, sent approximately 20 minutes ago and I missed it. Pulling out of the parking lot now. Will be there in half an hour. "He should be here in 10 minutes," I tell my mother and grandmother.

"Then we don't have much time," Mom says, whipping me back around to face her, "Let's finish your makeup."

Mom is in the middle of applying my lip liner when we hear heightened activity from the front of the house, indicating that Michael has finally arrived. I breathe a small sigh of relief when I detect the muffled strains of his voice. Meanwhile, Mom quickly shifts to her feet.

"You can finish up in here. Mom and I will go out there and get everyone in place while you do," she tells me, "Will you be okay?"

I smile at her, my heart calm at last. I suppose all I really needed was Michael's presence to finally settle. That's not so different from how it has always been for me. "I'll be okay. Go on."

When I'm finally alone, I rise from my bed and go over to contemplate my reflection in the full length mirror. I actually feel beautiful right now. My hair is hair drawn back from my face in thick, glossy waves and secured with a dainty, floral clip, tumbling down my back and over my shoulders. My white, bohemian style gown is understated, yet elegant, accentuating the curves of my pregnant body in a way that makes me feel elegant too…which is no small feat these days as my pregnancy advances. I hold myself with queenly confidence because I don't have a single doubt in my mind that today is my first step towards happily ever after. I don't have a single doubt about what my future holds.

All this time, I'd believed that I had changed irrevocably after Michael's "death." In retrospect though, I'm not so different from the woman he married all those years ago. I'm a little older, a little wiser, a little more jaded about life but in my heart I am still a hopeless romantic. I still believe in meant to be and my meant to be has always been Michael. I knew that when we first began but I forgot for a little while along the way. So did Michael, I suppose, but we both eventually came back to that truth. It's just as I told my mother earlier. I know we're going to make it because we've always been stronger together than we are apart.

With that resolve embedded firmly in my heart, I finally make my exit. As I make my way down the hallway, I vaguely register the small group of guests who have come to witness our ceremony, Petra, Jane and the girls, Rafael and his new girlfriend, Michael's parents and my own, my abuela as well. But my eyes are firmly fixed on the man I'm going to marry and my son whom he is balancing in his arms and tickling mercilessly. I watch them laugh together for a moment, just taking it in, realizing with growing wonder and gratitude that I'm going to have this for the rest of my life before finally making my presence known.

Michael slowly sets Mateo back down on his feet, too awestruck to say a single word but Mateo isn't nearly as tongue tied. "Wow, Mommy!" he exclaims, "You look just like a princess."

"A princess who swallowed a watermelon," I tease him, smoothly both my hands down the slope of my rounded abdomen.

"Yeah," my son agrees without reservation, "But you still look really pretty." He tips his small, gamin face up at Michael, who still has yet to say a word. "Don't you think she looks pretty, Michael?"

I don't need him to echo the sentiment. The expression on his face says it all. The way his eyes darken with appreciation and desire as I approach gives me life. I know what that look means and what he wants. It takes all the willpower I possess not to kiss him senseless right then.

"You look incredible," he breathes almost reverently when we're finally standing together, "I can't even believe how beautiful you look right now or that you're actually mine."

"You look beautiful too." I reach up to tunnel my fingers lightly through the dark blonde waves of his hair. "And you kept it a little floppy after all."

"Per your request, madam."

"I love it," I whisper, "And I love you too."

I'm about to change my mind about kissing him when I suddenly remember the twelve pairs of eyes that are trained on us expectantly, waiting patiently for our ceremony to begin. I smile at Michael. "Are you ready to try this again, Detective Cordero?"

"As many times as we have to. But, for the record, I'm good with this being the last time."

"Good answer. Me too. Let's do this."

Mateo, in typical fashion, expresses his impatience with unabashed candor as Michael and I take our position in front of the fireplace. "Finally!" he exclaims dramatically before Rafael can rein him in, "I thought it would never happen!" I'm still grinning over his response when I turn to our guests to recite the speech I have so painstakingly prepared for the occasion.

"Many of you were there with us when Michael and I were married the first time," I begin, scanning the crowd for all the familiar faces that I've come to cherish over the years, "And so you are already aware of the commitment that Michael and I share. It is strong, unshakeable and unbreakable. It has survived assumed death, crushing grief, five years of separation and a wealth of misunderstandings.

"But here we are again," I continue, pausing to favor Michael with a loving smile, "standing before you today to reaffirm those same vows we made to each other five years ago. We do not enter into this union lightly but with fully committed and the deep respect that a lifetime commitment demands. In fact, this day is merely a public declaration of the private promises that Michael and I have already made to one another. We will now exchange our vows before you and before God himself as a lasting testimony to our union and the children we will raise within that union."

I turn to Michael then and find that he is looking at me with tear brightened eyes. Although, I had been the one to write the speech, he and I had closely collaborated on its contents. We had wanted to make it known to everyone in attendance that we weren't making new vows to each other this day but instead reinforcing what has always been true, even during those five years that we were lost to each other.

And so I take his hands in my own and I say the words that have been written on my heart for what feels like eons of lifetimes. I promise to love, respect and honor him throughout all of my days, in good times and in bad times, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health for the rest of my life or until we are separated by death. But I know now that even death won't destroy the love that's between us. Because what we share between us transcends even that. Michael, in turn, makes the very same promises to me. He vows to be true to me, to be honest with me, to always put me first and to honor his commitment to me for all of the days of his life.

When it's finally done, he is crying openly and so am I. It's impossible not to be overwhelmed with emotion when he slips his ring onto my finger, especially because there was a time when I thought I would never wear it again. Seeing it back where it belongs feels a lot like coming home.

"Then by the power vested in me by the sunshine state of Florida, I now pronounce myself and Michael, husband and wife," I conclude with a happy smile, "Michael, you may kiss me now."

He cradles my face in his hands and sweeps me close for a fervent kiss. I can taste the salt of his happy tears when he does and they mingle with my own. I register the cheers and applause from our guests only on the periphery of my consciousness because right now, the only thing that exists for me is Michael Cordero, Jr. My entire world has reduced his mouth against mine, his arms banded around my body, his heart beating in time with my own. I have never felt more at oneness with him than in that precise moment. When he pulls away a short time later, we're both laughing.

"I can't believe you just married us practically in the same spot where we had our first kiss. That was both weird and epic at the same time. The only thing we needed was plaster snow falling on our heads."

"Well, I can always shoot another hole in the ceiling if you like," I tease him, "Besides, you wanted a story we could tell our grandchildren someday, right? If this isn't worthy then I don't know what is."

His eyes become soft and luminous then. "You remember that?"

"It was the first time you proposed to me, Michael," I tell him solemnly, "Of course I do, baby. I'll always remember."

"Yeah, because you were accidentally pregnant," he points out wryly.

"No. That's not why I'll remember," I reply before we turn to address our guests as husband and wife, "I'll remember because in that moment when everything in my world was upside down all I really wanted to do was to say yes to you."

Now that the ceremony is over, it's time to serve refreshments and prepare for dinner. I am actually stunned when the majority of our guests decide to remain for the reception afterwards. Unfortunately, Michael's father cannot stay long very long and Petra, J.R. (as Petra affectionately calls her) and the girls prepare to leave shortly after he does but not before Petra and J.R. offer their personal congratulations to me and Michael. While J.R. decides to give Michael some pertinent tips on making it through law school, Petra plucks me by the elbow and pulls me aside for a private word.

"I booked the honeymoon suite at the Marbella as a wedding present for you," she says with her usual terseness, "You're welcome."

"Oh, Petra. You didn't have to do that."

"Of course I did. I owed it to you after all the harsh things I said to you when you were going through your 'husband back from the dead' thing. I should have been more supportive."

"You were looking out for Rafael."

"I should have been looking out for you too," she murmurs in uncharacteristic regret, "I guess I was mad at you because I knew you were going to break his heart…even before you did."

"How did you know that?"

"Because it has always been about Michael for you," she says, "In the beginning, I didn't see that. I thought we were both collateral damage in your and Rafael's grand love affair. I actually felt sorry for him once. But then you married him, the first time around I mean, and I knew."

"Knew what?"

"That Michael was the one who had your heart and he always had. He wasn't the collateral damage at all. Rafael was."

"No one is collateral damage! Stop saying that!"

"I suppose you're right," she murmurs, inclining a meaningful nod over towards Rafael where he stands with his arm draped over Katie Sisquo's shoulder as they converse with Michael and J.R. He whispers something in her ear and the brunette tosses her head back with coquettish laugh. "I don't know why I was so worried about him," Petra scoffs, "He always lands on his feet and with a pretty woman at his side." She peers at me with keen eyes. "And you're not at all jealous, are you?"

"No, Petra. Actually, I'm very happy for him. At last, the cycle is broken. Thank God."

"Good. Because I don't think I could stomach your godforsaken love triangle yet another time."

She and J.R. say their goodbyes soon after that while the remaining guests stay to enjoy the dinner my grandmother has prepared. Despite the clashing personalities at the table, dinner is a surprisingly cordial affair. Both my mother and Michael's mom entertain the guests with funny little foibles from each of our respective childhoods. We listen gamely to the embarrassing accounts with wide, affectionate smiles but mostly we only have eyes for each other. Later, we find a moment to slip out onto the porch together when everyone else is mellowed by wine and occupied with mingling.

Michael tugs me in his arms and kisses me with barely restrained passion before we even fully cleared the front door. "I can't wait to get you alone," he whispers against my lips, "I've been wanting to do this ever since you came out of the bedroom earlier."

Halfheartedly, I bat away his questing hands. "Michael, not where they can see," I giggle when he comes after me again.

"It's your fault for being so sexy," he mumbles in between nipping at my neck.

"Yeah, because the Goodyear blimp look is a real turn on," I gripe with an eye roll.

He cranes a sneaky look over his shoulder to glance through the open living room window, I suppose to ensure that the guests are still occupied, before taking my hand and pressing it firmly to his crotch. There is only fleeting contact before I yank my hand away with a laughing yelp but it's long enough to know that he's definitely aroused. I bite back my answering grin just because he looks pleased enough with himself already.

"I told you that you were looking really sexy," he murmurs seductively, "So how soon can we get out of here so I can take off that dress?"

I stare up at him with glassy eyes. "Now sounds like a great time."

That eager response earns me another hungry kiss. "Let me go grab my keys," he pants when we come up for air again, "I can get us to my apartment in ten minutes."

"Michael, wait!" I quickly snag hold of his sleeve before he can disappear. "Petra got us a room at the Marbella as a wedding present. The honeymoon suite." I bob my eyebrows at him playfully. "So what do you say?"

Once again, he seeks out my lips in a slow, sensual kiss. "I say we get out of here."

An hour later, we're stumbling our way into the Marbella honeymoon suite, wrapped in each other's arms and kissing wildly as we do. Michael has already stripped off his tie, jacket and dress shirt by the time we tumble through the door and begin our blind, groping trek towards the bed. He breaks our kiss just long enough to begin tugging his undershirt up and over his head and that's when I see the surprise that Petra has left for us.

"Oh my God, Michael…look!" I gasp, nudging him aside for a better look.

From my vantage point near the bed, I can see on an ornate serving cart covered with a white tablecloth in the center of our room is an array of flowers, an assortment of finger sandwiches, Beluga caviar and a bottle of non-alcoholic sparkling cider. Michael, too, is impressed by the setup and whistles his approval. However, I reject his offer to go get ice for the cider even before he can even finish voicing it. I know it's unlikely to happen again but the idea of him venturing outside of our room makes me think back to the last time he did that…and how he was shot afterwards.

"Jane, you know that's not going to happen," he soothes, pulling me into the circle of his arms.

"I know that in my head," I mumble into his t-shirt, "But my heart is having trouble. Just don't leave the room, okay? Please?"

Michael doesn't say so but I know he thinks I am being paranoid. Still, he promises to remain inside without a single complaint. "I'm going to be locked in this room with a naked you and a bed all night long," he says, "How is that a bad thing?"

I giggle in response, relaxed enough now to venture forward and meticulously inspect everything that Petra left for us. As I get closer I also notice what is tucked behind the food and flowers. A pair of pink, fuzzy handcuffs, a bottle of cherry flavored stimulating gel, several sleek vibrators in various shapes, sizes and colors and what I can only assume are anal beads are neatly arranged on the tray as well. I choke in mortified horror when I realize that Petra has left me a varied selection of sex toys. But it's even worse when Michael comes to stand behind me and has the same realization.

"Oh…oh wow," he breathes from over my shoulder as he takes it all in, "Are you sure that girls are the only thing Petra is into? Because…what the hell?"

"I'm going to kill her."

He picks up a leather riding crop situated on the edge of the table and inspects it. "Okay, someone's into S&M…big time." He peruses the various leather binds and chains that decorate the table before finally stopping at something that looks suspiciously like a spiked dog collar. Michael hold it aloft with the tip of his index finger, his expression revolted. "Is this what I think it is?"

"Give me that." I snatch it back from him and toss it onto the table. "I am definitely going to kill her."

"What exactly does she think you're into?" And then he frowns, as if something incredible just occurred to him. "Wait. Are you into this?"

"No!"

"You don't have to be so testy. I'm only asking. She left all of this stuff. I figured maybe you said something to her."

I lift my chin with a haughty sniff of disdain. "I did not ask for this, thank you very much."

"Look…" he says, pointing to a rectangular scrap of cardboard on the sterling silver, serving tray, "I think there's a card."

Flaming with embarrassment, I pluck the card from the tray to read what Petra has written. Don't be afraid to be adventurous. I'm about to question what that could possibly mean but when I look up at Michael again I can tell by his expression that he is more than a little eager for "adventure." His face is flushed pink with anticipation, his blue eyes alight with desire as he regards me.

"Michael?" I whisper with some surprise, "Are…are you into this?"

He brushes a nuzzling kiss across my temple, his breath stirring against my skin as he whispers, "I could be into some of it."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Like this…" he grabs the bottle of gel, "…and these…" he adds the handcuffs, "…and maybe this," he finishes after choosing one of the brightly colored, medium sized vibrators. "I bet we could have fun with this thing."

"Oh, I bet we could too. But we're not using that gel," I warn him laughingly, "The last time almost killed me. Wasabi crotch is not my idea of fun."

Michael has an easy solution for that as he pulls me into his arms for a kiss. "How about we use it on my crotch this time then?"

I don't know if it's what he says, how he says it or the fact he's insinuating that he has a few sexual kinks but I am seriously turned on. When I return his kiss, it is with a ravenous need that I didn't know was inside of me. And suddenly, it's like we can't get close enough or kiss deep enough. He clasps me against him, parting my lips with his own, avidly, sweetly exploring the warm interior of my mouth with his tongue. I vaguely register the sensation of cool air on my bare back as Michael unfastens my gown and pushes the material aside so that he can press wet, heated kisses across my skin. Somehow, we manage to make it back to the bed in a tangle of arms and legs and half removed clothing with Petra's "gifts" clutched tightly in our hands.

Several "adventurous" hours and multiple orgasms later, I curl up against Michael's side, my body mildly achy as I lay with my head pillowed on his chest. I lightly skim the ridged scar on his upper, left chest, oddly comforted by its presence because it serves as a firm reminder that all of this is real. I'm not dreaming this moment at all.

The soothing lub dub of his heartbeat is almost enough to lull me to sleep. I am nearly halfway there, drifting away on a cloud of sated exhaustion, when I hear Michael whisper in a soft, incredulous tone, "We just had the dirtiest sex ever."

Grunting a laugh, I tip a sleepy, curious glance up at him. "Was it too dirty for you?"

"I think we could get dirtier if we put our minds to it," he suggests with a naughty smirk.

I settle back against him with a laugh and contented yawn. "Maybe…but it will have to wait until after I have the baby. It feels strange navigating around the belly."

He snuggles closer to me, burrowing his face into my disheveled hair. "I like navigating around your belly."

"Of course you do. You're a weirdo."

"Ah yes…but I'm your weirdo."

"Yep, you are," I giggle into his chest before dropping an affectionate kiss to his nipple. "Thanks for being 'adventurous' with me tonight."

"There's no one else I want to be 'adventurous' with, Jane."

"What a coincidence. There's no one else I'd want to be 'adventurous' with either."

I think he might fall asleep then because he sounds so drowsy so I'm surprised when he murmurs, "I can hardly believe this is real. We got married today. You're really my wife."

I lift my head again to smile at him. "And you're really my husband."

"And no one got shot. Thank God!"

My answering laugh is muffled against his warm skin. "Amen."

"You know, when I was in that cell I used to dream of being with you like this," he confesses in an emotional murmur, sifting his slim fingers through my hair as he speaks, "I'd lie there for hours wanting you, wanting this. That's probably the only thing that kept me sane all those years. I honestly didn't think I'd ever see you again."

"I know how you feel. Even now, there are nights when I lie awake and watch you sleep because I'm afraid if I close my eyes when I wake up the next morning all of this will be a dream and I'll lose you again."

"I'm not a dream, Jane. I'm real. I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere ever again, not if I can help it. If I have anything to say about it, we are going to be together forever."

"Do you promise me that?"

He answers me with a shred of hesitation. "I promise you."

I lean forward to press a teary kiss to his lips. "I love you so much, Michael."

"I love you too…always."