The echo of my final words to Marcus faded into the cool night air, leaving a strange, hollow silence in its wake. It wasn’t the triumphant silence I might have imagined, but a quiet, profound sense of rightness.
The door to my old life hadn’t been slammed shut; it had been closed with gentle, grateful hands. And now, every cell in my body, every beat of my heart, was thrumming with a single, urgent purpose: Rhys.
I didn’t go back inside the restaurant. He wouldn’t be in there, surrounded by the polite hum of conversations and the clinking of champagne flutes.
That wasn’t his world. It was mine. The one I was leaving behind.
I found him where I knew he’d be, on the bluffs overlooking the valley, the wind tugging at the lapels of his jacket.
He was a silhouette against the bruised purple of the twilight sky, his shoulders rigid, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He was a man bracing for impact.
My footsteps were soft on the grass, but he heard me. He didn’t turn, just spoke to the horizon.
“Come to deliver the verdict, Ava. Don’t worry, I can take it. I’ve had plenty of practice. “
The practiced cynicism in his voice was a shield, and it shattered my heart. I closed the distance between us, stopping just behind him.
The scent of him—clean earth, expensive whiskey, and something uniquely Rhys—wrapped around me, feeling more like home than any place I’d ever known.
“I told him no,” I said, my voice clear and steady in the wind.
He flinched, a barely perceptible tightening of his shoulders. He turned his head slightly, his profile sharp and disbelieving.
“You what?”
“I told Marcus no. I ended it. “
Rhys finally faced me, his eyes—those turbulent, stormy grey eyes—searching mine for the lie, for the catch.
“Why?” The word was a raw scrape of sound.
“Because he was offering me a perfectly planned life,” I began, my hands finding the courage to clench at my sides. “A safe, predictable, comfortable future. And it’s a good life. It’s the life I always thought I wanted. “
I took a breath, the truth of it swelling in my chest, demanding to be spoken. “But it isn’t the life I want anymore. It’s not… real. Not for me. “
His expression didn’t change, his jaw set like granite. He was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“I don’t want safe,” I said, my voice growing stronger with every word. “I want… chaos. Your chaos. The kind that makes you feel alive instead of just letting you exist. I want the terrifying, wonderful, completely unplanned unknown. “
My gaze locked with his, and I laid my entire soul bare for him. “Rhys, I’m choosing you. “
For a moment, he was utterly still, the wind the only thing moving between us. Then, a shudder ran through his powerful frame.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, a choked, incredulous sound escaping his throat. “Ava, don’t… don’t say that if you don’t mean it. Don’t play with me. Not now. “
“I’ve never meant anything more in my life. ” I stepped forward, closing the final inch between us and placing my hands flat on his chest.
I could feel the frantic, wild thumping of his heart beneath my palms, a rhythm that matched my own. “I love you. I love your mess and your passion and the way you see the world.
I love the way you see me. The real me. The one I’ve been hiding from everyone, including myself. “
His hands came up to cup my face, his thumbs stroking over my cheekbones as if trying to memorize the feel of me. His eyes were shining now, raw with an emotion so potent it stole my breath.
“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that,” he whispered, his voice thick.
“Then I’ll say it again,” I breathed, rising on my toes. “I’m choosing you. Always. “
That was all it took. The dam of his control broke.
His mouth crashed down on mine, not with tenderness, but with a desperate, devouring hunger. It was a kiss of relief and reclamation, a culmination of every stolen glance, every forbidden touch, every whispered secret in the dark. It was the taste of freedom.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, my fingers tangling in the thick hair at his nape. He groaned my name against my lips, a sound of pure, unadulterated possession, and lifted me against him, my feet leaving the ground as he spun us around.
The world blurred into a swirl of twilight and emotion. When he finally set me down, we were both breathless, our foreheads pressed together.
“My hotel room,” he rasped, his eyes dark with intent. “Now. “
I didn’t need to answer. I just gripped his hand, our fingers lacing together in an unbreakable hold, and let him lead me away.
We walked past the restaurant, the muffled sounds of the party a world away, a life that no longer belonged to either of us.
The moment the hotel room door clicked shut behind us, he had me pressed against it, his mouth on mine again, his hands everywhere. He unzipped my dress with a single, decisive pull, the silk pooling around my ankles on the floor.
It felt symbolic, shedding the last remnants of the woman I was supposed to be.
“I need to see you,” he murmured, his voice husky as he pulled back, his gaze sweeping over me in my simple lace lingerie. It wasn’t a look of lust, though there was plenty of that simmering in his eyes.
It was a look of reverence, of wonder. “All of you. No more hiding. “
“No more hiding,” I agreed, my hands shaking slightly as I went to work on the buttons of his shirt. I needed to feel him. Skin to skin. Soul to soul.
I pushed the fabric off his shoulders, my palms gliding over the hard, warm planes of his chest. I traced the faint lines of old scars, the landscape of a life lived fully and without reservation.
He watched me, his breath catching as my fingers dipped lower, unbuckling his belt.
Soon we were both bare, standing in the soft lamplight of the room, the world stripped away until it was only us. He led me to the bed, his movements deliberate and achingly tender now. He laid me back against the pillows, his body covering mine like a promise.
“You’re sure?” he whispered, his eyes searching mine one last time.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything. “
He kissed me then, a slow, deep, soul-baring kiss that spoke of new beginnings. This wasn’t the frantic passion of the bluffs or the stolen heat of our previous encounters.
This was a vow. His hands and mouth mapped my body, learning every curve, every sensitive hollow, every place that made me gasp his name. He was unmaking me and remaking me all at once.
I met his exploration with my own, discovering the power I had to make this strong, guarded man tremble.
There were no shadows to conceal us, no deadline to our time together. There was only the truth of our bodies, of our hearts, finally speaking the same language.
When he finally moved to enter me, he paused, his forehead resting against mine.
“You’re mine, Ava,” he breathed, the words a sacred oath. “You were always mine. “
“And you’re mine,” I whispered back, my legs wrapping around him, pulling him home.
The connection was electric, a current of pure emotion that fused us together. It was slow and deep, a soul-deep rhythm that was both a prayer and a celebration.
Every thrust was a declaration, every sigh a surrender. I looked up into his eyes and saw my future reflected there—messy, unpredictable, and more beautiful than any perfectly planned dream.
It was a love that wasn’t just found, but forged in fire. And as we moved together, climbing towards a shattering, shared release, I knew with absolute certainty that I had finally, truly, come home.
The manicured grounds of the estate were nearly empty now. Marcus sat on a cold stone bench tucked away in a quiet corner of the gardens, the half-empty glass of scotch in his hand long since forgotten.
The music had faded, the laughter had died down. All that was left was the hollow ache in his chest, a cavern where his future used to be.
He had done everything right. He had been patient, kind, forgiving.
He had offered her the world he had so carefully built, a world designed for her. And she had looked at it, and at him, and gently said, no thank you.
He wasn’t angry. He was just… empty. A ghost at a party that had already ended.
“I thought I might find you out here. “
He looked up. Jessica, Ava’s maid of honor and oldest friend, stood a few feet away, holding two glasses of water.
She wasn’t dressed in the shimmering bridesmaid gown anymore, but in simple jeans and a soft sweater. She looked comfortable. Real.
She didn’t offer platitudes or ask him if he was okay. He obviously wasn’t.
Instead, she just walked over, sat down on the other end of the bench, and handed him one of the glasses.
“Drink this,” she said, her voice soft. “You’ll thank me tomorrow. “
He took it, their fingers brushing for a fraction of a second. He mumbled his thanks and took a long sip of the cool water.
They sat in silence for a long time, listening to the crickets and the distant sigh of the wind. It wasn’t an awkward silence. It was companionable. Steady.
He had known Jessica for years, but he had always seen her through the filter of Ava. She was Ava’s loyal friend, Ava’s witty sidekick, the reliable one in the background.
But as he sat there, shattered and exposed, he looked at her—really looked at her—for the first time.
He noticed the sprinkle of freckles across her nose he’d never seen under the party lights. He saw the genuine, uncomplicated kindness in her eyes as she watched the stars, giving him space to just be.
She wasn’t pitying him. She was simply… with him. A quiet, steadfast presence in the rubble of his perfectly planned life.
In the midst of his greatest loss, a strange, quiet thought surfaced, clear as a bell in the wreckage of his heart.
*She’s been here the whole time. *