Chapter Eighteen

The reception winds to an end and we find ourselves seated in the old Mustang, which will probably finally get the fixing up it deserves once we have time to do it together just like we always said we would.

“So, what do you want to do now, Mrs. Doyle?” Aiden’s smile widens but I have to admit, my cheeks are so full they might pop. I never thought changing my last name could bring such a spring to my step, but being freed from the bondage my father’s last name held me in is more liberating than anything I’ve ever known.

“I don’t know. What do you want to do, husband?” I ask, ready to take on the world with him by my side. Nothing scares me now, not with Aiden’s strength and love supporting me.

He rolls his head along the headrest to look me in the eyes. “I think you know what I want to do,” he teases.

I smack his arm. “You’re terrible.”

“I’m your husband now, love. I can say things like that to you and get away with it.”

“Is that so?” I raise my eyebrows, but all he does is nod and grin. I roll my eyes but the truth is, I’ve waited my whole life to be Mrs. Aiden Doyle, and this little Mustang can’t get us to the cabin fast enough. “I guess you better gas this thing up and get us up the mountain then, shouldn’t you?”

It doesn’t take long to reach the cabin we rented for a few days, which is pushing it since the next and final playoff game is fast approaching. It took some doing to convince his coach, but in the end it seems Pratt is a hopeless romantic. Aiden promised me a real honeymoon after the season, but I can’t fathom being happier than I am right now.

Inside, the cabin is small and cozy. Aiden heads to make a fire while I drop my bag on the floor by the kitchenette. It’s perfectly romantic with its plush sofa, fur rugs, and craftsman furniture. The owner set us up with champagne and plenty of snacks, but I know my hockey player will want something more substantial for dinner. The luncheon we had at the reception could never be enough to fill the man, so I check the fridge for the items I requested. It’s stocked and ready to go, so while Aiden gets the fire going, I cook.

While prepping, Aiden slinks his arms around my waist from behind and rests his chin on my shoulder. “What are you doing, Birdie?”

I chuckle and kiss his temple. “Making you dinner.”

“I can think of more fun things to do, love,” he teases, nuzzling my ear.

My stomach swoops and I go a little lightheaded. Of course, I knew we would be together. We’re married, after all, but I’ve waited for this moment my whole life, and not once had I ever pictured it with anyone but Aiden. But now that it’s here and there has been a decade of trauma between us, I’m nervous. Afraid. Unsure of myself.

“Um, we should eat first. It’s almost done,” I say, gently shirking him so I can cook, but also to give myself a breather.

He doesn’t seem put off, but heads back to the living room to stoke the fire. I only have so much time to prepare myself for this next step in our relationship. I’ve changed since I was twenty years old. So has he, but I wasn’t really thinking about that when I agreed to this whirlwind.

“Birdie, are you all right?” he asks from the doorway. He leans against it with his arms crossed, concern in his eyes.

I smile. “I’m fine. Maybe a little tired.” I plate up the spaghetti and set both plates on the table. This time he isn’t as easily dissuaded.

“I’ll eat, but don’t think I don’t know there’s something on your mind.”

“Nonsense. Come on,” I say, taking the seat across from him.

I manage to carry on a conversation with him about where we’ll live, especially since his mother agreed to come back to Denver. He’d never considered buying a house before, but since neither of us have plans to live anywhere else, it seems like a good time to invest in something more long term than his apartment or my townhouse. Once dinner is done, I clear the table and grab the apple pie, ready to stick it in the oven. I’m still not ready and I need to stall him a bit longer.

Guilt floods my body, but I can’t move past this part. I need time.

Aiden gets a drink of water and notices the apple pie in the oven. “What are you doin’, love?”

He’s not impatient, but confused. I don’t blame him. So am I. Aren’t I supposed to want to close the door to the bedroom and not come out until morning? Isn’t that what newlyweds do?

“Uh…dessert?”

He eyes me up and down, chews his bottom lip for a moment, then offers a nod and says, “I’ll just…add more wood to the fire.”

I sigh into my hands and give myself a pep talk. It’s Aiden. He’s gloriously handsome, loves me with all of his heart, and I’ll never be safer with anyone than I am with him. I’m his wife. I’m fine. It’ll all be okay.

When the timer goes off, I pull the pie from the oven and heap it into a bowl without even waiting for it to cool. My brain is a frazzled mess, but Aiden sits down at the table again and eats the pie. He’s going through the motions now, waiting to see what ridiculous excuse I give him next. There is no way he hasn’t figured me out, that I’m stalling because I’m not sure I can do this. I’m broken, and Aiden deserves a wife who is whole and complete in his presence.

He places his spoon in the bowl and crosses his arms over the table, eyes telling me one thing—there’s nothing left for me to do. I need to be honest with him. I lick my lips and try to stave of the new surge of nervousness threatening to pull that pie right back up.

“We should probably clean up these dishes, don’t you think? I don’t like waking up to a sink full of dishes,” I say, still so afraid to enter the bedroom with him and close the door behind us. It’s Aiden, and my heart knows I’m safe with him. It’s my mind that can’t seem to get past all of the hurt that men have piled on me over the years.

I stand and gather the bowls, noting the disappointment in his body language. His shoulders slump, but he still doesn’t argue. Instead, he helps me take everything to the kitchen and begins rinsing them before putting them into the dishwasher. I get busy hand washing the things that can’t go in the washer while he wipes down the table and cleans up the rest of the dining room.

When I’m down to my last pot, I hesitate with my hands deep in the water. I’ve run out of excuses, and my husband needs me as his wife in every way. My poor heart thuds away while my hands shake beneath the suds.

“Are you finished?” he asks.

I clear my throat and bring the pot up to rinse. “Yes, I just…need to dry them.

“Birdie,” he whispers, taking my soapy hands in his. He grabs a towel from the counter and dries them so gently, I’m almost mesmerized by the slow, methodical movements. When my hands are dry he drops the towel and squeezes my hands. “Tell me what bothers you.”

I can’t help closing my eyes, but I take the opportunity to breathe deeply and focus. “I’m afraid,” I admit.

“Of me?”

My eyes snap open. “No. No, of course not. I love you, but I’m…nervous.”

His warm eyes soften further as his hands slide up my arms to cup my face. “My beautiful little bird, there is nothing for you to worry about. You are the most precious treasure in the world, and I’m not about to hurry you into something you’re not ready for.”

Tears slip free and dribble over his hands. “I feel so selfish. I want to be with my husband, but I’m…I’m…” My throat clogs with emotion I can’t express, but he knows. He wipes my tears and kisses my forehead, allowing me to process my emotions without judgment.

“You are not selfish. You’ve been abused and mistreated, love. I have infinite patience for you, knowing it will be all the sweeter when you’re ready.”

I know Aiden’s values. I know his faith, and I know he’s waited thirty years for this moment too. And yet, he doesn’t pressure me or push me. True to his vows, he’s protecting me even when it means putting his own needs aside. I didn’t think I could fall more in love with him, but my chest expands to make room, blooms with pride that this man is mine, and my heart falls harder. I can be afraid with him, be nervous with him, and he will guide me through it the same way he always has. Only now, he’ll do it as my husband, the man who cherishes me more than anyone ever has.

I nod slowly as he rubs circles on my cheeks with his thumbs. “Okay,” I breathe.

“Okay. How about we watch a movie? I think there is a streaming service on the—”

“No, I…I mean, yes. I’m…ready.”

His brown eyes search mine seeking any sign that I feel pressured or guilty. Precious moments pass while he studies me, gauging my willingness to move our marriage into consummated territory. “Birdie,” he whispers as if my name holds power over the seas, the stars, the turn of the earth. “My precious Birdie.”

I lift on my toes and kiss him, unlocking the prison he’s kept his hands in since we arrived at the cabin. He bends and lifts me, gripping my thighs as he carries me to the bedroom, his lips never leaving mine. My heart races, but it’s in tune with his. My palms sweat, but sweat breaks across his forehead too. We’re both nervous. There’s history between us that almost broke us, but we’re mending it with every breath, every heartbeat. I run my hands through his thick, dark hair and pull him down with me when we reach the bed.

Aiden breaks the kiss long enough to stare down at me, his eyes asking me one final time if I’m sure. And I am. I love him, I need him, I want him. I did then and I do now, and for the rest of my life I will seek him in every crowd, listen for his soft breathing when we sleep, feel secure when his scent surrounds me.

And I know when I pull him back to me that he will do the same. We might have been star-crossed from the beginning, but the universe has a way of folding in on itself. It can bring stars light-years closer to one another with one unexpected twist. And here we are.

“I love you,” he whispers in my ear. I hold fast to his words and let him lead me where we were always meant to be.

“Who in the world would bother us tonight?” I mumble, rolling away from Aiden to pick up my phone. Through bleary eyes, I squint and make out April’s name. “April?”

Aiden shifts and sits, scratching his chin. “If April is calling, it must be an emergency.” He nods for me to answer, so I do.

“April?” I whisper, not that I’ll wake anyone. It’s two in the morning and we’re in a cabin in the mountains. Unless I’m worried about waking the woodland creatures, there’s no reason to whisper.

“Finchley, I’m so, so sorry. You know I’d never interrupt, well, you know. But I had to call you.”

“What is it, April?” Her tone is hurried and nervous.

“I’m not sure what to say other than to be blunt. I just got off the phone with Uncle Bradford. Finch, your father had a massive heart attack. He’s dead. He’s gone.”

I blink a few times and stare at the comforter spread across the bed. The plaid pattern distracts me for a moment so that I can process what my cousin said. My father is dead. Gone. I know I should feel sad, shocked, distressed in some way but I’m not. I feel nothing. I’m empty of emotion.

“Did you hear me?” she asks.

“Yeah, I…hang on. Let me put you on speaker.” I tap my phone screen and Aiden slides his arm around me. “Repeat what you just said.”

“Uncle Bradford called me. Your father has had heart problems for a while, but never told you. He suffered a massive heart attack this morning and died, Finchley. It’s why Stephen was in such a hurry to drag you back to Chicago.”

Aiden’s breathy gasp warms the side of my face but he says nothing.

“But there’s more. Uncle Bradford is the executor of the will, and he told me something interesting.”

“What is it?” Aiden asks since I am clearly not processing this information properly. All I can do is stare at the phone sitting on top of the blankets, my cousin’s voice echoing through the room telling me my father is dead. The man tortured me, abused me, made me feel like less than a human, and now he’s gone.

And I still feel nothing.

“It turns out, Stephen pulled some behind the scenes deals your father didn’t approve. It made him so mad, he had his friend, Judge Orville Danbury, rule the contract as null and void. Your father was interviewing new men to set you up with.”

“The contract that forces Finchley to marry the bloody—”

“Aiden,” I whisper, reminding him I don’t care for cursing.

“Yeah, that one,” April says. “Would you like to know what the new will states? Don’t answer that. I’ll tell you. Your father was so infuriated, he had his will changed to state the entire company, all of his belongings, and a significant stake in several other companies would go to—are you ready for this?”

“What, April?” I fuss. “A charity? One of his friends? I’m sure not a dime comes to me so—”

“Whoever you marry, Finchley. It all belongs to Aiden.” April’s tone is almost whimsical now.

Aiden sits straight as a board. “I’m goin’ta need you to say that again, nice and slow, love.”

“Listen, Uncle Bradford intends to dispute the will stating your father was in early stages of dementia, but what it comes down to is this—if you can win a case against our uncle, you two are millionaires.”

Aiden and I stare at one another for a few minutes, letting everything sink in. Ten years. A decade forced between us by a man who would rather have seen me dead than married to an Irish man he deemed unworthy. Ten years, and here we sit, married and stinking rich with his money after all.

A chuckle escapes my lips. I try to cover it with my hand but it’s almost impossible. Laughter bursts forth and I fall back on the bed, holding my stomach.

“Love, I think she’ll need to call you back. She’s gone and lost her mind,” Aiden says and hangs up my phone. He places it on the nightstand and hoists me back up into a seated position. “Birdie, are you cracking up on me?”

I shake my head as hot tears stream down my face. I’m angry, sad, confused. So many emotions swirl in my mind, but only one makes its way over the others. Love. I’m married to the only man I’ve ever loved, the one my father hated, and it feels a lot like divine intervention. All I want to do is turn off everything else, bury myself beneath the covers with my husband, and emerge tomorrow afternoon when we have to head back to reality.

“Birdie?”

“Did you hear her?” I ask, pointing to my phone. “You’re a millionaire. My father ended up giving you everything, Aiden.”

“Aye, she also said your uncle intends to dispute the will, so I’m not entirely sure there is anything to get excited about.” He shrugs. “Besides, I’m rich in the things that matter. I don’t need the badger’s money.”

My heart melts. He’s probably the only man in the world who can stare down a multi-million dollar paycheck and choose me. He chose me.

“I love you, Aiden Doyle.” I tackle him and almost take us to the floor, but his always strong, always present arms wrap around me and keep us in the bed.

“I love you, too, Mrs. Doyle.” He positions me beside him with his arm still snug around me, tucking me up against his chest where I can hear his heartbeat thumping against my cheek. It’s steady, solid, and so in love with me.

“So, what should we do?”

“What do you mean? You want to fight your uncle?”

I huff out a sarcastic laugh. “Not even a little. He can have it all. I already have what I want.”

Aiden tilts my head up until my chin rests on his chest. “You’re sure? You’re well deserved. If you wanted something, I’d stand beside you and fight for it.”

I almost say no, there’s nothing I want, but that’s not true. There is one thing. “I want my mother’s ballet shoes and the album of her performances. That’s it.”

“Nothing more?” Warm eyes squint with happiness.

“Nothing more. She shouldn’t have to fade into a memory just because my father was a jerk. I’ll honor her and move on with my life. Our life, together.”

He rests his head on mine and relaxes. After a few breaths, my body settles and other emotions begin to rise. I am sad. Sad that I never had a childhood, never got to enjoy having a father, and that I had to grow up too fast. I’m angry that I never got to tell my father that I wouldn’t be his punching bag any longer. And desperate to move on from the pain of a decade of loss at his hands.

“Birdie?” Aiden whispers.

“I’m all right,” I say, swiping away a few tears.

“Despite everything, it’s not a bad thing to grieve even this loss.”

I bury my face in his chest and breathe in the scent of him. “I know, but all I want right now is to lay here with you and enjoy what time we have before the next game calls us back.”

“You’re sure?”

I nod, already too comfortable to consider anything else.

“Birdie?”

“Hmm?” I hum, so close to falling asleep in his arms again.

“I promise you, I’ll never be absent. I’ll do everything I can to be a good father for our children. Your father’s legacy ends here, love.”

I open my eyes to find him staring back at me, gaze so full of love and admiration, I almost can’t look at him. Brushing my hand over his cheek, I pull his face closer to mine and kiss him. I know. I’ve always known, and I can’t wait to see it.