A Matter of Forever (20 page)

“But, for what it’s worth,” he says, “I hope she does find love and happiness in her personal life. I always have.”

I lean back against the counter. “Does she love him?”

He considers this. “What she feels for him is complicated. There’s a lot of history there, you know.”

“And ...?”

His adorable dimple makes an appearance. “Fine. Yes, she loves him. But I think she’s also worried that she can never live up to Molly’s memory in Cameron’s eyes.”

“That’s ridiculous! Cameron isn’t like that.”

“Love isn’t always rational, Chloe. Even when the most rational people feel it.”

Isn’t that the truth. I reach out and grab his waist, tugging him closer. “Does Cameron love her?”

“Have you asked him?”

“I am
not
going to ask him that.” I lean up and kiss the hollow of his throat. Goodness, does he smell good right now. “Besides. What’s the point of being in a relationship with an Emotional if you can’t ask questions like these?”

His head ducks down next to mine. “Yes. He loves her, too.”

“And Callie and Will?”

He kisses the tip of my nose before pulling back. “That is a can of worms that would take hours to explain.”

“Still?”

“Still.”

I sigh. “Love should be easy, and yet it’s the most complicated emotion of all, isn’t it?”

He takes my face in his hands. Stares down at me for such a long moment, I’m reminded of the night before, when we made love and I lost myself in those orbs of blue. My heart flutters uncontrollably, all butterflies dancing in their effort to break free of my chest. Can he hear them, know just how much he means to me? More than just the base emotions rolling off of my soul, but what’s hidden deep within, straight down to the molecular building blocks of what makes Chloe Lilycomb
Chloe?

“Marry me,” he whispers.

I stare up at his eyes in wonder. Maybe he
can
hear me.

Fingers trace the length of skin from ear to chin so lightly that delicious shivers race up and down my soul. “I know we’re already engaged and all, but—”

Shimmering joy bursts through my veins. “Yes,” I tell him. “Yes.”

All I see is blue right now. Beautiful, wonderful, loving blue. “I wasn’t done, love.”

“The answer is still yes.”

Strands of my hair wrap around his fingers. “I’ve been thinking that life is too short—”

He’s definitely been listening to my heart. “Yes, Jonah. A thousand times yes. And it’ll be yes even after that.”

His mouth is close to mine now, his breath mingling with mine. “Are you sure?”

Silly boy. “Yes,” I whisper just a split second before my mouth meets his. And I show him just how sure I am.

After we’ve made love, he goes downstairs to tell his brother what we’ve decided. We’re going to get married sometime this week, despite our awareness this is the lull before the storm. Just because things have been quiet since coming out of the bunker doesn’t mean Enlilkian isn’t coming; after all, Bios keeps sending word, via the Guard, that his father knows I’m aboveground. But, we’re not going to wait, not when so many things in our lives are so unstable. And that’s a funny thing for both of us to admit, being Magicals, because for most of our existences, we’ve resented the rigid destinies created for us.

Because ... so many people have died. So many people have been hurt. Life is so precious, so short no matter how invincible we think we are.

I want to marry him. He wants to marry me. We don’t want or need big and fancy. The Magical equivalent of a Justice of the Peace down at Karnach will do nicely. And this may seem out of the blue, just ... incredibly sudden, but when I think about it, it’s not sudden at all.

When I was five, I imagined marrying him. He was my prince, I was his princess.

When I was eleven and he kissed me for the first time, I imagined it again.

When I was sixteen and losing him, I wished for it fervently.

When I was seventeen and standing in the middle of a snowy street in Annar, I hoped for it.

When I was twenty and finally sure of what I wanted, I told him about this wish.

Marriage isn’t something to take lightly. As sudden as this change of plans is, it’s not like I’m running to the nearest drive-through chapel, drunk as a skunk. I’m choosing to join my life with the person I love. And it’s not so much that I feel I have to marry him because of some warped, twisted sense of
there’s no
Chloe without Jonah
like I think some blinded romantics do, it’s more ... marriage is our promise to one another, one we are choosing to make.

A ring isn’t needed to do that. Neither are vows. People can promise each other their hearts and support and never need a piece of paper.

But I like the idea of this bit of forever binding us together anyway.

That’s not to say I’m not a nervous wreck as I wait alone in our bed. Love, as we discussed earlier, is not simple in the least. It’s funny how I can be so certain of my love for him, of how right it feels to be with him. And yet, part of me feels like it’s crushing in on itself because, by marrying Jonah, I will officially be forced to let go of any hold I have on Kellan.

I wish love were simple. I wish that, in this moment, all I felt in my heart was happiness. I’m going to marry the man of my dreams in just a few days. And oh gods, that does make me happy. It really does.

I just wish my happiness didn’t come at the cost of somebody I love so very desperately.

Jonah was gone for so long that I ended up falling asleep. In the morning, though, he tells me that Kellan wants to talk to me. He tells me this quietly, tiredly, before going into the office and shutting the door behind him. Minutes later, Kellan comes up the stairs and joins me in the living room.

I love him, I think as he sits down across from me. I love him, I think as he looks up at the ceiling and then back down at me, so much raw pain shining out of his eyes. I love him, I think as he tells me he’s going away.

“Where?” I ask quietly.

He doesn’t know.

“How long?” I whisper.

He doesn’t know.

“When?”

Now, he says. Today.

He tells me this is how it has to be, and then he tells me, as tears betray my attempts to remain calm, that he’s genuinely happy for Jonah and me. That he wishes us nothing but the best, and I believe him because I know he loves us just as much as we love him.

Don’t leave, I think as he stands up.

But he leaves anyway.

“Are you ready?”

It’s a question I’ve been asked so many times in my life, for so many different reasons. Was I ready to Ascend? Be on the Council? Fight the Elders? Accept my Fate? Forge forward on my own path? And now, here I am, being asked this question by Cameron as he holds an arm out to me. He’s in a smart suit, wearing the tie I gave him a few months back for Father’s Day, his thick blonde hair peppered with sophisticated, silver strands styled just so. But it’s not how handsome he looks that tugs at my heartstrings; it’s the love and concern in his eyes that tell me he’d have no qualms turning us right around and out the opposite door if I answered in the negative, considering how quickly this day was thrown together.

So much adoration and love for this man fills me up.

“Weddings are supposed to be happy events, hen,” he says, wiping away one of my tears with a thumb.

“I am happy,” I tell him. “So, so incredibly happy.” Gods, am I ever.

He hugs me, his strong and warm arms wrapping around me, and once more I thank all the gods that I found this man and his son and that they accepted me as one of their own. That he’s here with me, ready to walk me down the aisle and symbolically give me away so I can marry the literal man of my dreams.

“You deserve all the happiness in the worlds,” he murmurs before pressing a kiss against my temple.

When he asks me again if I’m ready, I tell him I am. There’s no doubt, no worries, no second-guessing.
I’m ready.
And then I take the arm he offers me, clutching my small bouquet of flowers in my other hand as we head toward my future.

Here are things I hope to never forget:

People I love crowding a tiny room.

How Karl and Will look so bloody handsome in suits.

Cameron smiling down at me with so much love as we approach the altar.

How gorgeous Astrid looks in silver.

Cora’s non-cynical laughter.

Callie’s presence on a day I would not have blamed her from shying away from, and her genuine tears of happiness.

The lace of my simple dress.

How the blue of Jonah’s shirt matches his eyes perfectly.

How it feels like a thousand butterflies clamoring for freedom in my chest when Jonah takes my hand and says, “I will.”

How, when I say it, too, I’ve never felt surer of anything in my entire life.

How his eyes never waver from holding mine, or mine his the entire fifteen minutes it takes us to let go of the past and embrace the future.

The cheers when I kiss Jonah for the first time wearing the same last name as his.

The flowers and sparkling snowflakes that explode all around us because I can’t help myself.

My mother not hiding her own tears of happiness as she hugs me, wishing me well.

Chocolate cake with champagne frosting, baked by my best friend.

The clinking of glasses and all the kisses that follow.

Toast after toast from our friends—some funny, some serious, all heartfelt.

The way my husband sounds like when he tells me he loves me.

And the way my heart nearly explodes from too much bliss when I tell him I love him, too.

I lean against the balcony railing and soak in the late summer air and breathtaking sights. Rome at night is magical, all golden lights reflecting off majestic buildings in direct competition with the twinkling stars above. Car horns beep in the distance alongside sounds of city life, and all I can think is:
I am so lucky to be standing here right now
.

Jonah initially suggested Tahiti for our honeymoon, and ... I love Tahiti, that much is true. I absolutely adore the house resting on stilts out in the sparkling blue ocean; it’s paradise for sure. But to me, Rome and this apartment are the perfect place to spend the first few days of married life in. Outside of pilfering its hidden monetary contents when I ran away last year, Rome holds only the best kind of memories for me. Jonah brought me here to heal once, and I fell deeply, passionately, forever in love with this magnificent city. And now, here we are, Mr. and Mrs. Whitecomb, and I could not be more content.

Warm arms wrap around me from behind, a chin settling on my shoulders. “Penny for your thoughts?”

I close my eyes and lean my head back against him. “I was thinking,” I murmur, “how perfect today is.”

Fingers trail down my bare arms as he presses a lingering kiss against the corner of my mouth; hot hot heat flashes through my body like wildfire. How is it, after knowing each other so long, his touch can still do this to me so easily?

I turn in his arms and lose myself in those cerulean eyes that have mesmerized me from the first moment I gazed into them. My hands cup his face. There’s no blocking of emotions tonight, not today, not when there’s so much happiness inside me that I couldn’t stop it from spilling out even if I tried my hardest. “I am so ridiculously in love with you.”

His mouth finds mine, so soft at first, all brushes and teasing that have me gasping in need. Light fingers draw paths once more down my arms, leaving behind shivers and delicious trails of goose bumps, before curling around my waist. One of my hands sinks into his hair, fingers twirling around dark strands, tugging his face closer. I return the favor, my kisses oh-so soft, my tongue tracing the corners of his mouth and full lips. I want to eat up the shudder that rolls through his body, and hold in my memories the sound that comes through his parted lips, the one that lets me know he wants me just as much as I want him.

And oh, oh, I want him so.

Fingers paint words and stories up my waist to my chest, beautiful ones that promise me wonderful things; my shudders match his. “I love you, too. More than you could ever know.”

I’ve heard these words from him before, and yet, each time he shares them with me, the muscle in my chest that keeps me alive threatens to burst into glittery shards of elation. The funny thing is, I think I do know how much he loves me, because if it’s anything like how I feel, it’s the sum of all our parts chasing infinity.

Our mouths reconnect, hotter now, our tongues dancing in waltzes and tangoes until all the stars in the heavens above us float down into my eyelids and transform into fireworks: blues, pinks, purples and gold and silver. Time stands still, or maybe it speeds up and spins madly around us: minutes and seconds nothing more to us than distant, irrelevant remnants of a past. The balcony disappears as we stumble back into the apartment, shirts and dresses and pants our breadcrumbs for the trail we leave behind. My back finds the bed and, without even trying, I bring the stars from outside in as twinkling lights sway to invisible songs in the warm air above us. Jonah hovers over me, and as I drink in all that is him and good in the worlds, all I can think is how much I love him, how blessed I am, and how forever is not nearly long enough.