Page 70 of Teaching Roman

“I love you,” I said breathlessly, “for as long as I live.”

Roman groaned, the declaration sending him over the edge. He drove deeper, releasing me in waves of pleasure that coursed through my limbs, turning my bones to jelly until I was little more than a puddle under him. Collapsing down, he gathered me in his arms and held me against his chest while the dizzying bliss dissolved. Our skin was slick with sweat and our breath came in heavy pants. I became aware of his heart, pounding against my cheek. The haze in my head cleared and I stroked a finger down his chest.

“If that’s what it means to be an honest woman…”

Roman’s eyebrow cocked up. “An honest woman, eh?”

“What would you call me?”

“A beautiful, kind, strong woman.” He nuzzled into my hair. “Although I’d be happy to make an honest woman out of you again.”

“Oh yeah?” I said, my tone ripe with challenge.

Roman’s face split into a grin as he rolled on top of me. “Oh yeah.”

I lost track of time,the day sweeping into twilight before we stumbled out of bed to replenish our bodies with food and water.

“There’s not much in here,” he said. “Want to go out? We can pop by the hospital.”

I nodded, tossing him a bag of mixed nuts from the gift basket the resort had left on the counter.

“I thought these were more your speed,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

I groaned as I pushed up on the counter. “Very mature, Mr. Markson.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Markson.”

The name felt warm and comfortable, and I pretended to study my chocolate covered strawberry as I blinked tears out of my eyes. But Roman wasn’t so easily fooled.

“Hey,” he said, tipping my chin up with his finger. “I won’t call you Mrs. Markson if it upsets you.”

I smacked his shoulder and laughed as the tears spilled out. “Happy tears.”

“Oh,” he said, but it was clear he was confused.

“I’m still keeping my name,” I told him, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t like being reminded that I’m your wife.”

“You’re my wife,” he said with emphasis and I cried a little harder until I tossed the strawberry on the counter and wrapped both my arms around his neck. Our lips brushed softly together as we held one another, marveling in the power of small words.

The ring of Roman’s phone broke us apart and he crossed the kitchen. As soon as he saw the screen, his face paled and I was on my feet, at his side. Our hands threaded together and I whispered, “I’m here.”

His fingers tightened their grip on mine as he answered, and in that moment, I understood what I had really promised him. Saying I do wasn’t a means to a happily ever after. It didn’t mean there were no more challenges facing us. It meant we would face them together. I’d been scared of marriage until Roman, but know I knew that it was more than empty promises. It was a partnership between best friends. It was the start of our family, and as I watched Roman’s face go slack with grief, I felt his pain as acutely as if it were my own. When he laid the phone down, he opened his mouth to speak and couldn’t. I dropped a finger to his lips and shook my head. He didn’t have to say it. My hand stayed firmly in his, because we both knew we were stronger together. We always would be.