Chapter Ten
I blanched. "What?" I kept a firm hold on my glass, for the sole reason of keeping my hands
occupied so I wouldn't tear my hair out.
"Marry me, Serena." He took my smaller hands in his, gently extracting the defenseless glass from
my death grip. "We'd be good together. I know we would."
"But-but," I babbled, my mind reeling. Where had this come from? And why, oh why, did it have to
happen after that blasted conversation with Melissa? I shoved that thought from my mind as I focused
on Darien's earnest face in front of me. On an idle whim, I reached out to stroke his face lovingly,
contemplating the situation I was in. There was no way this sweet, if believed to be jaded and
cynical, man in front of me could be capable of such awful things that Melissa had accused. And in
one instant, I looked up into Darien's eyes and saw vulnerability. He was scared of my rejection—and
suddenly my answer was unequivocal.
"Yes."
He smiled widely and leaned in to embrace me. I wrapped my arms around his crushed silk shirt and
held him close, praying. Praying everything would work out. Praying he loved me as much I knew now I
loved him. Praying Melissa's awful insinuations and explicit indictments would no longer have any
place in my mind or heart.
When Darien pulled back slightly to look at me, I smiled through watery eyes. He leaned in closer
as if to kiss me and in the fraction of a second before our lips met, I whispered, "Thank you." His
arms tightened convulsively around me, bringing me closer before kissing me in a way that was violent
and tender, hesitant and undeniable. And I was so sure of his passion for me right then, I forgot the
dull ache in my heart that reminded me he had not shared those same meaningful words to me.
****
A week later found us both amidst a flurry of action that surrounded our wedding. Andrew and Rita
joked we were stealing the deserved limelight from them; our parents were both delirious with joy,
our mothers crying with happiness, our fathers with reserved, gruff blessings. Darien looked
wondrously happy, even if he managed to keep it contained within his cool exterior. At all of the
mandatory, mingling dinners we attended, I could always catch him in the act of staring at me
intently, a soft smile playing on his lips, as if I was some sort of elusive dream he had managed to
capture.
The time I spent with Darien was filled with tenderness and warmth, which only served to make me
feel guiltier for the unwanted doubt I harbored in the dark recesses of my mind. Darien's sudden
proposal had to have come from somewhere, the reservations and cynicism toward marriage he had dealt
with when I first arrived had been too real to be dismissed as acting. He had been unwilling to
commit himself to a severe relationship and even then, he had had awful stipulations concerning not a
healthy, loving marriage, but a business contract. I had let him know exactly what I thought of those
terms so he could not have proposed to me thinking I would abide by such rules.
There was some reason for Darien's change of heart, one he wasn't sharing with me. I tossed and
turned many sleepless nights, discerning Melissa's conversation and Darien's motive for the sudden
proposal. This quandary mixed with the poignant realization that while Darien never failed to expel
endearments and compliments, he had never once told me he loved me tore at me until I couldn't look
at him without the question eating at me. Finally, the need to know grew so great, it drew me out of
my copious amount of paperwork on a rainy night at eleven and into Darien's home.
"Serena?" He said, his deep voice filled with surprise at my drenched presence just outside of
his door. He ushered me in and one look at him let me know, even in my boggled state, he had been up
and working. His tie was in a loose knot around his collar and his shirt sleeves were rolled up.
"Why are we doing this?" I asked abruptly, dismissing his insistence that I change into dry
clothes with an obstinate streak he didn't know I had. I appeased him by discarding my drenched navy
blazer.
"What?" He replied brilliantly, flagrantly disconcerted.
"You heard me." I moved deeper in the room, turning my back on him to walk toward the roaring
fireplace.
"Where is this all coming from?" He said sharply. His surprise had disappeared, in its place was
the shrewd astuteness he used to deal with clients and such.
"Just answer the question, Darien." I pleaded tiredly, the spunky display I had just shown gone.
"And just how am I supposed to do that?" He exploded, keeping his distance from me at the other
side of the opulent room.
I sighed and squeezed my eyes shut for the tiniest of seconds, mustering up energy and courage.
"With the truth."
"What do you want from me?" His voice grew louder, vibrating every ounce of frustration he felt.
"I could ask you the same question."
"I want to marry you." He said calmly and rationally, replying to my cryptic words with ease.
This tone was precisely what set me off, sending me laughing hysterically with no humor. "But
where would you put me, Darien?" I cried frenziedly, throwing my arms in the air as I spun around to
face his taut figure. He tensed at my words, his whipcord body freezing. He waited for me to continue
and I did. " I'm not one of your pictures or antiques, I won't just stay away quietly into the
background, starving for some attention, and then come out, clean and polished, when you need a
trophy wife!
"Oh, but that's right!" I rambled on, paying no heed to the fact that I was openly crying now.
"You don't want a possession for a wife—you want a business partner! One who can say after you make
love—'Hey, that was great! But now let's talk about that new deal at work.' Well, Darien, I told you
once before I can't do that—I won't do that. Now answer me once and for all, why do you want to marry
me?"
He didn't speak for a while, but he did his voice was quiet and spoke of restrained power. "Are
you drunk?"
I let out a short bark of laughter. "No, but I sure wish I was."
"I'm going to make you some coffee, and then we're going to sit down like adults and discuss
exactly why you're behaving like a frenetic two-year-old." His voice was steely as he made his way to
the kitchen, but I ran to him earnestly and stopped his path with my body.
"No!" I implored, bracing my hands on his chest as if I could control his latent vitality. I
resorted to begging. "Please, just tell me. I need to know." I tore my eyes away from his hard,
granite stare and focused them on my small hands against his crisp, white shirt instead.
He sighed roughly at my tear-stained face and turned back to sit on his ornate couch, waiting for
me. I opted to go across to my previous place at the mantle and braced my hands against it, hoping,
praying he would say what I needed to hear.
"Why?" I whispered again, hating the weak, tremulous tone of my voice.
"Why I want to marry you?" I could feel the frustration in him permeating through the room.
"Geez, Serena. How am I supposed to answer that?" He repeated, running an agitated hand through his
thick hair.
Tell me you love me! I wanted to scream at him, knock some of the love I had given so freely
into his obdurate and feral being. Three words, Darien. Three words.
"I—I want you," he finally answered, a strangely effusive tone to his voice that I did not
acknowledge due to the numbness that had swept over me. In the worst case scenario I had imagined and
prepared myself for an immense pain that would come from realizing the truth of unrequited love, but
this cold feeling of deadened calm would have scared me had I not been so frozen to everything.
"Serena?" I heard his concerned tone come from far away and I slowly turned away from the mantle
to look at him. I dimly heard the shark intake of breath from him at the sight of my blank
manifestation, but was too far gone to care. I mutely made my way to the door, instinct and self-
preservation demanding I escape before reality sunk in and the real hurting began.
I made my way to the door, my limbs moving in a leaden, mechanical way. My body was wooden and
tension was so tight through my small frame, I was shaking painfully. But I didn't notice, my mind
was somewhere far off, somewhere on a cloud where the pain of unrequited love had yet to reach.
"I should go," I said blankly. "It's getting late." I nodded dumbly, my head moving as if on a
taut string.
"Serena," Darien said, his voice quiet as he reached for me. I moved aside instinctively,
recoiling from his touch, thinking back to all the times he had held me and kissed me…all for
nothing! I registered how stupid and naïve I had been to actually think I had Darien's love.
Somehow I registered his reaction to my shying away from his touch, his face tightened, a muscle
leaping from his jaw in a hard way. He let me pass, staying perfectly still while I slowly exited
from his apartment. And his life. And whatever place I had in his heart.
****
When I passed the night doorman and guard, missing his concerned look, I didn't hesitate to step
into the pouring rain mixed with the hail that a forecaster said would be imminent. Thousands of
freezing drops fell on me, each one stinging like hypodermic needles. But I was oblivious to caustic
cold as my body involuntarily shuddered, sending a bout of nausea through me.
Somewhere inside me, I realized such a blow to my heart should indisputably mutate me into a
sobbing mess, but instead, I felt so incredibly tired. So tired, in fact, sleeping on the cold cement
below me was suddenly appealing. But instead, I continued walking, not sure of my destination. I
failed to hear the doorman calling after me until he was right behind me, a dark umbrella in one hand
and a jacket—Darien's jacket—in the other.
He held it out to me and when I made to move to take it, he sighed and managed to keep himself
dry while covering my shoulders with the jacket. I shrugged out of it and moved from under the
protection of the umbrella, sensing the doorman's frustration.
"No, thank you." I said with surprising calm.
"You'll freeze to death!" The portly man exclaimed, trying valiantly to ensure the umbrella would
not overturn in the harsh wind.
I simply shrugged and turned around, moving with a briskness I didn't know I had in my exhausted
state. I couldn't very well tell the man I liked the hail, how it reassured me I was still alive and
not in a numb trance. And while the freezing nails of the rain were painful, the sting was only a
fraction compared to the dull ache inside me. The wind whipped my hair around mercilessly and caused
my eyes to water. Feeling every blow the weather dealt through my thin blouse and thigh length skirt,
I unconsciously made my way home.
When I reached the door of my apartment, my heeled feet were dragging in a limpid torpor. My ice-
cold
hand closed painfully around the key I kept in a cache in the wall. Opening the door, I stumbled in
and dropped myself on the couch in a listlessly static position.
Instead of sleeping, which my body screamed at me to do, I turned to stare up at the dark
ceiling, my mind racing and still ambivalently. Real tears had yet to form and I knew that until they
did, I would be subjected to the blissfully ignorant state of not feeling anything—joy, pain,
happiness, despondency.
But then, somewhere around three-thirty in the morning, I rolled over to my side, my cheek
pressing against the smoothness of the chintz.
And at three-forty that same morning, moisture streaked down its hot path, leaving a flood in its
wake.
****
I realized after twenty-four hours spent lying on my couch, multiple things had to be done and
sleeping life away, as nice of a plan as it seemed, was not the way I dealt with the blows life had
to fling. I showered and dressed and screwing up my courage I coolly called a local newspaper and
informed them of the broken engagement, making my voice resound a semblance of calm I was far from
feeling. I reassured them the break up had been a mutual agreement with no bitterness on either
side's party. Not only would this leave everyone's pride intact, it would ensure the presses
hounding.
The issue of facing my family was another matter. Although it was a dastardly thing to do, I
settled for letting them find out in tomorrow's edition of the paper. Not only could I not deal with
probing questions from both our families, I also was not fit for human company—nor did I know when I
would be.
Although I was safe for now from both caring, albeit nosy, families I knew that the confrontation
would be inevitable. Darien's wrath and everyone else's surprise was imminent and no matter how
strong I could pretend I was, I was about to break and I knew it.
Opting to go away for a bit until I sorted out my life and the fiasco alleviated a bit, I packed
two bags and called for a taxi early the next morning. As I shouldered my knapsack, ready to leave,
the phone rang incessantly, the harsh ringing cutting through me. I let the answering machine pick it
up, and I heard the chipper voice of a woman record a message. A woman who had a dream, a future…a
fiancé. The beep followed and a harsh voice growled.
"Serena!" I jumped at his bark and had to reassure myself that Darien's angry presence was not in
my apartment. "I got the paper. What do you think you're pulling? Who said anything about breaking
off the engagement? Serena, I know you're there; pick up the phone!" There was a pause and he sighed
heavily, agitated. When he spoke again, his voice was calmer, yet the tightness underneath was
evident. "I'm coming over." He hung up tersely.
I smiled wanly. He could come over, but I wouldn't be there. Last night I had called Raye and
told her an edited version of my dilemma. Sympathizing immensely, though curious, Raye had offered me
the use of her home in Chicago. I was grateful to my friend and apologized for any inconvenience, I
had been reassured by Raye not to worry, along with her promise to come down and live with me for the
Christmas holidays that were only three weeks away.
I quickly raced down the stairs and slid into the cab, knowing Darien would be delayed by the
traffic as well as the rather long distance between our homes. Giving the cab driver instructions, I
sat back against the plastic seat, letting the tension in my back unwind painfully. I closed my eyes,
missing the screech of tires that an urgent red automobile emanated as it pulled into the space I had
just evacuated moments before.
****
Two weeks later found me learning to smile again and meaning it. I had my happy moments with
Raye, we never rehashed exactly what had taken place with Darien and I was thankful for the complete
absence of prodding from Raye.
Instead, she made sure I was occupied and content. My days were filled with company and in the
evening, we two women would watch a movie or do something equally mindless and entertaining. Yet,
when the credits rolled and the popcorn was eaten, and there was nothing left to do but sleep,
poignant thoughts and memories were free to wash over me without any distraction.
It was torture, knowing I had done the right thing and realizing that there was no other choice,
but all the while missing what was never mine. Somewhere in the dark recesses of my muddled mind, I
knew that the loss Darien's love was not mine to mourn over, since I had never acquired it, but that
didn't stop the tears from coming as night after night I stared absently at the blurred letters on my
alarm clock that glowed a red luminescence in my dark room.
But then morning came and it was back to the cheerful routine that had inhabited my schedule.
One bright, snowy day Raye was called in to fix some disaster at the model agency where she
worked. Regretfully leaving me alone, she trudged up her Christmas decorations and looked pointedly
at the bare tree we had selected the day before. Raye had been none too excited to trim it; she found
the chore to be mundane as her family rarely could stand to be in the same room, much less decorate
the house during the festive season. Anyhow, the signal was clear and I was all too happy to take on
the distracting task.
Drinking some hot chocolate and contenting myself to watch the snow flutter down in even
clusters, I unwittingly made the mistake of leaving my mind blank.
And the regrets came.
Breathing deeply and convincing myself that a life with the man who didn't requite your love was
no life at all, I nodded to myself. Unfortunately, convincing myself of my wonderful sense did
nothing to stop the words that rang in my head every day.
He had said, I want you.
The completely wrong three words.
I want you.
I was powerless to cease that mantra just as I was unable to control my own embittered thought.
What did he really want? Me or my money?
Well, he could have it. I nodded my head empathically. As soon as Christmas was over, I planned
to head back and face the music—in the form of two inquisitive families and one jilted fiancé. And
when I did, I would sign the company over to Darien; he would not even have to buy me out. I wanted
to expunge any connection I had to him and this was the quickest, most effective way. Special
occasions would be slightly different, if we even planned to hold them anymore after our disaster of
an engagement, but I was confident of my ability to work something out at a later date.
Rinsing the mug and placing it the dishwasher, I walked across the large expanse of the lavish
living room, admiring the tastefulness of both the classic Victorian furniture and the statistically
placed vases and elegant knick-knacks. Standing in front of the large pine tree, my hands on my jean-
clad hips, I surveyed my task before dragging out a small stepladder and beginning.
An hour and a half later, I heard the familiar click of the door being shut. My back to the
arched opening that led into the living room, I carefully stepped down and crouched down, placing the
nearly empty box of tinsel on the crème carpet below the tree.
"You're right on time, Raye," I teased, smiling fondly. "I just finished." It was when I was
closing an empty package of Nativity scene figurines I noticed the men's shoes that were alien and
easy to spot on the light-colored carpet. Raye walked around in slippers and I was sure that these
polished, black dress shoes were not Chad's.
"Hello, Serena." An achingly familiar voice said, his tone flat.
I slowly stood up, my eyes trailing up as I straightened to my full height. I crossed my arms
over my waist in a defensive gesture. The color drained from my face as my mind registered the
determination etched into every masculine feature, from his straight dark brows to the angled jut of
his chin and jaw. Every line of that haunting face was emanating wealth, power, and the same
magnetism that drew me to him in the beginning.
My initial reaction to his daunting presence was not at all collected. I walked forward in a
frantic pace, my subconscious knowing full well I would be intercepted at the only exit—which was
where Darien stood. I was correct. Darien's arms shot out just as I was about to cross the
threshold. They kept me in place like steel bands, unrelenting. I jerked away from him, my expressive
face showing exactly what I thought of him touching me.
The only thing that let me know how my action affected him was the imperceptible twitch in his
clenched jaw. Pushing away the sides of his dark suit jacket, he shoved his hands into his pockets
and looked down at me.
Finally coming to terms that he was here and fully determined to stay, I managed to grab a
semblance of control about me. Pushing back my loose hair, I took a few distancing steps back into
the festive room. "W—What are you doing here?"
"Seeing you," came the simply reply.
"Why?" I pressured doggedly, taking a step back to match his own forward one.
He moved closer and I backed up. "Because we have some business to attend to."
It wasn't until I felt a complete wave of despondency wash over me at that remark that I realized
some naïve part of me had hoped he had come here to voice his love for me! But now it was
incontrovertible, Darien wanted the business—he had said as much.
My eyes shining with unshed tears that I refused to let him see, I moved over to the glass coffee
table and picked up a silver ballpoint pen. Leaning over so a curtain of hair covered my glassy eyes
and tremulous lips from his view, I quickly scribbled on a cocktail napkin left over from last
night's movie marathon.
I straightened and shoved the white paper to him haphazardly, not bearing to look him in the face.
He frowned, "What is this?" He quickly scanned it, his dark brow furrowing. "You're giving me the
business?"
"Yes!" I cried, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. "It's what you want, isn't it? It's what
you came here for!" I took a shuddering breath to calm myself. When I spoke next, the words came with
such clarity it surprised even me. "Now leave."
Darien did not seem to hear my last order, he was too busy looking at me with barely concealed
shock. He finally closed his eyes for a brief moment before running an agitated hand through his
hair. "Is that what you think?"
"It's what I know." I insisted stubbornly, walking away from him.
He turned to look at me backing away out of the room and grimly shook his head. In a few, quick
strides he had my small wrists caught in one of his larger ones.
I squirmed in bondage, hurling creative insults that he took in stride, his dark brow cocked in
wry amusement as I dealt a particularly incoherent one. I finally desisted my movements, knowing they
were futile. Letting out a growl of disgust at him, I glared into his blue eyes.
"What do you want?" I finally demanded.
With his free hand, he reverently tucked a lock of golden hair behind my hair, a slight smile
playing on his lips. "You."
That infuriated me and I pushed him away with both of my wrists. Unfortunately, his grip on my
hands tugged toward him, sending us both stumbling a few steps and me straight into his arms. After
letting out a soft chuckle and winding his arms around me in a hug, he laid his cheek against my hair
and whispered. "What a hellcat you are."
His fond tone left me stumped. Narrowing my eyes, I pulled my face away from his chest and shoved
back from his intoxicatingly warm embrace. "I already gave you the company, you can stop the act
now." I managed to fill my voice with derision that I didn't feel.
Instead of sighing and admitting his deeds, the infuriating man simply smiled and reached for me
again! "Oh, Serena."
The gentleness in his voice was more than I could take and my lip trembled before tears pricked
and flooded my eyes. I brushed them away angrily just in time to see Darien's handsome face take on
an alarmed expression.
He took another step closer to me and stopped reflexively when I held out a hand, palm up, as if
to ward him off. My action only momentarily halted him and soon he was holding me tightly against
him, rubbing soothing circles through my fitted yellow sweater.
I tilted my head far enough to look at him through watery eyes. I admitted with a degree of
frustration, "I don't know what you want! I already gave everything!"
He shook his dark head, "Not everything."
I bit my lip and gave a half wail, half plea. "But—"
Whatever I was preparing to say was truncated by his firm voice. "You're not my wife yet, Serena.
And that's what I want."
Openly confused and harried, I tried again to wipe my face free of tears, unconsciously rubbed a
finger across my nose.
He smiled at the action and it took me a while to realize he remembered my idiosyncrasies as a
child.
"You don't want to marry me, Darien," I said dully, playing with a miniature wreath on a wall.
"Suppose you tell me why not?"
"Because." I swallowed hard, the next words wrenched out of me. "Because you don't love me."
"Ah," Darien said after an earth-shattering pause. "I see."
I wanted to scream at him; yell at him to get out before I collapsed into a sobbing mess at his
feet. Instead I kept my back to him, tracing the green wreath with fake intensity.
"Serena, I—" His voice was apologetic and the softness of it slapped me harder than any cold words
on his part could.
"Don't!" My voice was initially harsh and then disintegrated into a despondent plea. "Please,
don't." Hating the scalding tears that were now slipping down my cheeks, I sniffled quietly. "Just
go."
"Serena," he began again, paying no heed to my pathetic entreaties. "What would you say if I told
you I loved you?"
I let out a dull laugh, willing myself not to let myself feel that spark of hope only to let him
blow it out cruelly. "I'd say you were a liar—and even greedier than I thought."
I sensed his body stiffen in anger at the particularly caustic remark. "What," he said slowly,
"may I ask, are you talking about?"
I had to laugh. It was either that or cry even harder, and self-preservation demanded I keep my
composure. "It means," I seethed, wiping my tears before whirling around, my eyes shooting sparks,
"That I know you wanted to marry me for the entire business. It means your little charade is over. It
means," I finished scathingly, giving him a look of utter contempt, "that you can leave now because
I've signed over the company to you and your work is done.
"You know what you are, Darien? You're an absolute gold-digger. You already have a lucrative
business but instead of being content, you prey on women, charm them, and then take all their worldly
possessions!" My tears had stopped and in their place grew self-disgust that I couldn't hate him as
much as I should have.
Instead of growing even angrier, as I had expected, he sighed heavily and ran a hand through his
hair. "I see you've been chatting with Melissa," He said ruefully.
I was momentarily speechless before answering stiffly. "I don't see how that matters."
"Of course it matters!" He burst out in a fit of frustration that took me back. "She fed you a
pack of lies and under the circumstances, I can see how you'd be in a position to believe every word
of them."
His portrayal of my being a gullible fool did not sit well with me. Narrowing my blue eyes, I
placed my hands on my hips. "She may not be the greatest person, but after what you did to her—"
He let out a short bark of laughter. "What I did to her?" He chuckled wryly. "You'll excuse me if
I don't think marrying a woman with stars in my eyes and then building her a business to make her
happy and then taking care of it because she suddenly decided it was boring and too much work a fate
worse than death."
"What?" Was my brilliant reply.
"Melissa wanted something to occupy her days—besides the men I worked with," he added, a dry
smile on his lips that let me know exactly how much his ex-wife didn't affect him anymore. "So, I
started a clothing store for her. Unfortunately, Melissa's interests laid in buying clothes—not
running a business concerning them. Within a month, she grew bored and looked to me to take care of
it. I tried, but after a few months, it became clear I couldn't run the store and start FS
Enterprises. I sold the business and when we divorced—which became legal about a month ago—Melissa
cried bloody murder, saying I stole the only thing she had in her life—her precious store." He took
hold of my upper arms, his grim firm but gentle as he implored me. "I never wanted to marry you
because of FS Enterprises."
This wasn't real. There was no way this could be real.
"How did you find me?"
"I called Raye after a few days of raging on my part." He smiled briefly. "After some time, I got
her to tell me where you were."
Raye. I didn't know whether to thank her or strangle her for her seemingly good intentions.
As if to further add to my sense of surrealism, Darien crushed me to him, whispering so softly in
my ear, I thought I had imagined it, had it not been for the choked emotion in his throat. "I love
you."
I could believe him about the lies Melissa had evidently told. I could even believe Darien hadn't
been with me for the business. But I couldn't—wouldn't—believe exaggerated claims from him about
things he had blatantly told me the opposite.
"You don't believe in love," I accused, trying unsuccessfully to wiggle out of his grasp. "You
told me that day."
Sighing heavily, he pulled back far enough so that I had look into his beseeching eyes. "I was
completely ignorant to your inherent ability to make a man fall in love with you." A smile quirked
one corner of his mouth and I unwittingly smiled back at his teasing words. He grew serious again.
"Why did you run away?"
Because I loved you. I still love you.
Rather than saying these embarrassingly true words, I looked up at some point on the wall behind
Darien's ear, biting my lip in hope he would let the question go.
"Tell me, Serena," He prodded, his voice gentle yet demanding. He gave me a light shake to force
my eyes to meet his again.
When I looked at his earnest face, I knew I couldn't lie to him. "Because I couldn't stand that
you didn't love me!" I cried angrily. "I still can't stand it!" And to my horror, the tears started
again, tracing their way down my cheeks in an unchecked pattern.
When he released his hands from my arms to brush away my tears with the pads of his thumbs, I
succumbed, too tired to fight him. I fell into his embrace, crying openly against his pressed white
shirt. He stroked my hair in comfort and after the worst of the storm was over and my tears subsided
to let my thought process clear, I realized he now felt sorry for me after my effusive display.
Disgusted with myself for calling his pity upon myself, I wiped my cheeks roughly and stepped back.
"Thank you." I cleared my groggy throat. "I'm fine now, really." Taking a calming breath that
came in shuddering instead, I closed my burning eyes. When I opened them to face the compassion I was
sure would be filled in his beautiful mercurial eyes, I was taken back by his next words.
"Didn't I just tell you I loved you?" He asked, his tone slightly chiding in reproach.
"W-What?" I gasped.
"Honestly," he groaned teasingly. "How could I fall in love with such an dense woman?"
"You—you love me?" I whispered, my voice barely audible. My hand immediately flew to my throat,
clutching the soft material of my top.
"What did you think this entire thing was about?" He gesture to the room, signaling his coming
here.
I was silent, digesting what he had just told me. "No," I whispered.
"No what, darling?" He grinned, covering the distance between us effectively.
I immediately knew he was going to kiss me and put a hand flat on his chest to stop him. "You
can't."
"Can't what? Kiss you? Well, I'm afraid I'm about to."
When the kiss came it was sweet and gentle. And after only a moment, I was helpless except to
respond. When the blissfully tender moments ended, I caught my breath. "You can't love me." I
whispered achingly.
He frowned. "I can't?" He held up my hands in his. "Well, I see you haven't married yourself off
yet. So why not?"
I pulled my hands away from him and was uncharacteristically hurt by his amused words in such a
serious situation. "You don't believe in love—you told me so. And I can't be the kind of wife you
want."
"Serena, I want you to be exactly what you are—only I want a ceremony and a piece of paper that
says you're mine. And I'm yours." He cradled my face with his warm hands, kissing my forehead. "I
love you. I don't how else to prove it to you."
I drew a shaky breath and placed my hands on the wrists that were holding my face. I opened my
drenched eyes and took one look at his sincere face before squeezing them shut again. "What
happened?"
"What?"
"Two weeks ago you didn't love me, and now you say you do. What happened?" My eyes were still
closed, tears slipping down from my dark lashes.
"Serena, I've loved you since you first yelled at me for treating you like a child." My lids flew
up and I caught his soft smile at the apparently fond memory.
"You said—you said you wanted me," a blush stained my pall cheeks as I recalled the words.
Smiling ruefully, he chucked the underside of my chin. "Wanted you to love me as much I love
you." He sighed. "But you didn't—or so I thought—and that's what my pride couldn't take."
I grew desperate for some ground to stand on in this dizzying wave of information. When I
couldn't find any, I resorted to wailing. "Then why didn't you tell me!"
He brought his forehead to mine for an instant before pulling back. "I thought I loved Melissa
and look how wonderfully that turned out. I needed to know you loved me before my bull-headed pride
would let me tell you how I felt."
I stared at him in silence, my mind whirring in the complete antithesis of my motionless body.
And suddenly all the mumbled, incoherent thoughts in my mind came down to two very simple and very
delicious sentences. Darien loved me. And I loved him. Standing on my tiptoes, I kissed him fiercely
on the lips. "You idiot." I said affectionately when I pulled back far enough to look at him.
He smiled in relief at my acceptance. "But you love me anyway."
Through his weak smile, I felt his need and hunger for the meaningful words to be given to him.
"Yes," I whispered softly, brushing his lips lightly with my own. "I do love you." I gave him a
tremulous smile before letting his lips cover mine in a particularly tender reverence of our love.
This was it. This wonderful feeling of completeness and bliss. This was what I had been dreaming
of all those miserable nights wondering what if. This was what I had been looking for my entire
journey through life without knowing it. And it wouldn't be for a week—a month; it was forever.
Because he was mine just as I was his—and our story had just begun.