Page 135 of Mending Hearts
Miles points at me triumphantly. “See? He’s laughing. Healing.”
I drag a hand over my mouth. “There are no inappropriate photos.”
Miles looks at Rafe, deeply skeptical. “Rafe?”
Rafe stares back at him, deadpan. “There are photos of us fully clothed. Smiling. You know. Since you were there.”
Miles sighs. “Tragic.”
Rachael exhales and shakes her head, but there’s a smile tugging at her mouth now. “All right. Enough. We are not discussing garters. However, Miles’s first point stands. Not about display—about existence. If those photos exist, we need to secure them. No cloud backups. No shared drives. No accidental leaks.”
Rafe’s gaze returns to me, serious again. “Mine are. Are yours safe?”
“Yes,” I say immediately. “External drive. Password protected. Not connected to anything.”
He nods once.
Emotion twists in my chest so hard it almost hurts.
This isn’t what I planned. None of this is. But the truth presses forward anyway.
“Hey,” Rafe says quietly. “What is it?”
My gaze snaps to his. His hand tightens around mine.
“I want evidence of our life,” I say, voice rougher than I expected. “I want framed photos. Those four years we had…” The words tangle, but I force myself to keep going. To stophiding. To give him everything. “They were the best years of my life.”
He blinks slowly. His eyes darken, piercing.
“I know it wasn’t perfect,” I continue. “But I love you. I always have. I want those memories where we can see them. I want proof of how I feel about you to exist in the open. The world knowing we’re married… that part? It’s good. It’s the way it happened that isn’t. It’s the implication about my character that makes me fucking furious.”
Miles snorts from the kitchen at my swearing.
I don’t look away from Rafe. “I don’t regret marrying you,” I say. “Or falling for you. And when you’re ready—if you’re ever ready—I want everything with you.”
Silence settles around the table. I can feel everyone watching, but I don’t care. All I see is him.
Something shifts in Rafe’s expression. Heat. Hunger. Emotion so raw it almost knocks the air out of me.
He stands abruptly, chair scraping against the floor.
“Rafe,” Rachael begins, already knowing.
But Rafe doesn’t let go of my hand. He strengthens his hold on me and hauls me to my feet like he’s done waiting.
“Rafe—” I start, breath catching.
“We’ll finish this later,” he says to the room without looking away from me.
Miles calls from the kitchen, “Dinner in ten minutes! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”
“That’s not a high bar,” Rachael mutters while Rafe shouts, “Eat without us.”
Eric presses his lips together, clearly fighting a smile.
Rachael sighs. “We’ll pick this up later.”
Rafe doesn’t answer. He’s already pulling me down the hall.
