EPILOGUE

2 YEARS LATER

ALLIE

THE MEMORY OF THE man I married still haunts me—stalks me—two years later. His kind, green eyes. The curve of his mouth when he first told me I was beautiful. This is the way I choose to remember him. These are the memories that make me miss him. The old him. Before he lost himself.

In the end, he thought his death would save me from the hurt…from the things that became out of his control. But it still pains in my heart. It will forever leave me conflicted as I try to separate the man I loved from the monster he became. The loss doesn’t make that go away. It leaves me with no closure or explanation for what changed in him.

He was sick. He thought he could fix it on his own, but my reality tells me that it was too late for that. He needed professional help—something I could never give him. If he would’ve been willing to set aside his pride, things might have turned out differently, and he wouldn’t only exist in my memories.

Though, when I stare into Tyler’s eyes, I’m reminded that love can come in many different forms. It’s often hard to define when it’s so easy to become blinded by our own desires. But true love is reciprocated—one hundred percent. It’s giving yourself to someone, knowing they’ll do the same. It’s not selfish or harmful. Love doesn’t hurt. It builds you up instead of tearing you down. It’s something that’s priceless and worth finding—the tiny moments with big meaning. And I found them with Tyler.

The love we have is soul deep. He’s shown me a love that’s beyond words—beyond what my heart and mind could’ve ever imagined.

After Nick’s funeral, I immediately put our house for sale. The memories it housed were too fresh. Too raw. It was meant to be ours—our family home—but there was nothing left of that life that was worth holding onto. Flashbacks of the good and the bad—mostly bad—were on a constant loop, and I didn’t want that reminder. So instead, I did what I felt was best and left that life behind.

When my house finally sold, I reconnected with my old friends and re-enrolled in my Computer Sciences’ classes. I reimmersed myself in the life that was kept from me, and Tyler was there with his consistent, unlimited support.

“So, where are you and Tyler going tonight?” Charlotte asks while painting her toenails a bright red—her back resting against the front edge of our sofa.

“I don’t know. He said he wanted to surprise me.”

“Well, when he sees you in that dress, he’s the one that’s going to be surprised. That poor boy is going to want to skip the date altogether and bring you back here.”

The white halter dress, currently forming around my curves, is one I forgot I even had. I spent so much time trying to cover the marks blemishing my body, that it had, sadly, found its way to the back of my closet. I was lucky enough to stumble across it when I was packing up my house, and now it’s become a representation of a new start for me. A rebirth, of sorts.

My body still has the scars to prove the brutality I endured. But I’ve come to realize that they never were signs of my weakness—like I originally thought. The faded reminders of the countless cuts and bruises that used to cover me, now depict my strength and resilience. I’m no longer ashamed of the marks that became a part of me. It wasn’t my choice to have them mar my skin, but I do choose to not allow them to control me. So, today, I wear them on display, in the dress that was abandoned and forgotten, and wait for the man who resurrected the old me—before I became lost to the fear and shame.

The knock on the door sends tingles through me with excitement because I know who’s waiting for me on the other side. Every time I see him, it feels like the first time—transfixed by the view in front of me. And today is no different.

His hair is a little on the longer side—in the same messy waves I love to run my fingers through. The masculine angles of his face are covered in a moderate dusting of facial hair—neatly trimmed—and he’s dressed in a blue, plaid button-down pulled taut against his broad shoulders and muscled chest. It hangs loosely over his trim waist and falls perfectly over his low-hung jeans. He has the cuffs rolled up his sinewy forearms, and I itch to trace the hard lines. I feel like I need to pinch myself to prove I’m not dreaming. He truly is ruggedly handsome perfection.

He scans over me with the same appraising look. He bites his lip to cover the grin transforming his face. He tilts his head as his eyes roam over my body.

“I am one lucky man,” he admits with his sexy rasp sending shivers through me. He extends his hand, waiting for me to reach for it. “Shall we?”

I gladly intertwine our fingers and move in for a passionate kiss. Pulling away, I reply, “I’d love to.”

AS WE PULL INTO the parking lot of the sports bar—where I first bumped into Tyler—I’m overwhelmed with a feeling of nostalgia. At the time, I felt something tingling down deep. I never knew what it was, and I wasn’t willing to explore it. I was too focused on my date with Nick to consider my feelings. I didn’t understand them. They were confusing. Unexpected.

Though, looking back, I know that when I looked into his eyes for the first time, he somehow imprinted on my soul. He became a part of me. It was a pivotal moment that changed my life forever. Because he was meant to save me. Love me. Cherish me. He became my forever.

Hand in hand, we walk inside toward the billiard tables and I become giddy with excitement.

“How’d you know?” I ask in awe, wondering how he knew this was something I’ve always wanted to learn.

“The night we first met, I noticed you before you bumped into me.”

“Really? You never told me,” I say, surprised by his admission.

“I saw you walk in with Nick, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. I remember thinking you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. I was envious of that bastard.” His voice rises a little with his last statement. His anger for Nick still strongly simmers, and his protectiveness of me may keep it boiling for quite some time.

“When I saw you take a step toward the tables, and Nick’s obvious rejection of the idea, I could see the disappointment on your face. And later on, when I saw you—only a few feet away—I could see the curiosity in your eyes. That’s how I knew it was something you wanted to try.”

“Even then, you knew what I wanted, when you didn’t even know me,” I admit, amazed by his attentiveness.

“I didn’t need to know you. I just needed to pay attention,” he says without missing a beat. “So…are you ready to learn?”

“More than ready,” I confess, bouncing and clapping in excitement.

His deep, rumbling laughter warms me as we walk over to the tables. He’s amused by my eagerness to play pool and, thankfully, is quick to start my lesson.

Picking a properly weighted cue, he chalks the tip. The previous players on the table left the balls already racked, so all we have to do is get into position. When his arms wrap around me, I bask in the warmth of his body pressed up against my back as he guides my first shot. He places my base hand and aligns my other on the cue, then he slides it forward with a quick jolt.

The balls crack loudly against one another, splitting off in a sporadic array. One by one, they bounce around the table, narrowly missing the pockets. Just when I think I’ve botched my first try, one gradually creeps its way to the edge and drops in. I squeal with excitement, wrapping my arms around his neck and kiss him with the joy of my accomplishment. His resulting proud smile beams brightly, and I fall even more in love with him.

He continues to guide me, explaining the physics behind each shot, until all the balls have fallen and I’m ready to try on my own. He asks me if I’d like to rack the balls and I, of course, enthusiastically agree.

I reach into the pockets, gathering every ball as I go. But as my fingers search the right corner pocket, they brush across a small velvet box. I look at Tyler questioningly, but he casually shrugs as if he’s just as confused as I am.

Before I get too excited about what I may or may not be feeling, my fingers lightly grip around the soft enclosure and lift it into view. My heartbeat pounds against my ribcage and tears fill my eyes. My hands tremble with nervousness. I’m suddenly weak with extreme emotion. My eyes don’t stray from the tiny box clenched in my fingers as I pull the lid open.

The hinges creak.

My heart stops.

My lungs gasp.

I can’t speak.

A stunning, princess-cut diamond ring sparkles under the table’s lights.

I notice movement beyond my focused stare and find Tyler bent down on one knee. The dampness pooling behind my lids spills over with pure elation. I’m fidgety as I wait for him to speak.

“Allie?”

“Yes?”

“I’ve known from the moment I first saw you that I wanted you in my life…that I would do anything to make you happy…that I would do anything to protect you from pain.

“…And I sincerely promise you—from this day forward—that I will do everything in my power to make you never doubt my love. Because I can promise you this…There will never be a day that I don’t love you, or cherish every second I’m blessed with your love. I want my forever with you. So, Allie…?”

“Yes?”

More fidgeting.

“Would you make me the happiest man alive and tell me you’ll marry me?”

“Yes!” I dive into his waiting arms, and we both topple over. I shower kisses over each scruffy cheek, tracing the way to my favourite lips—expressing all the happiness he’s brought into my life. He taught me what it is to love without fear. Without pain. And it’s a gift that I’ll never be able to fully repay.

The applause of spectators shares in our celebration as we tenderly seal our promise of love to one another.

A true love.

A perfect love.

A forever love.

Thank you for reading!

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To find out more information about A. R. Wile’s books, you can go to her website at: www.arwile.ca