Beautifully Forgotten (51 page)
When they arrived home, Trace was there with Brandon.
Trace’s eyes moved over Darcy before he started for the door.
“Thank you, Trace,” Lucien called. “How’s Vivian?”
Trace turned to him when he reached the door. “Fine. The bullet went through her shoulder. She’s already demanding sparkling water and Egyptian cotton sheets.”
And then he quietly closed the door behind him.
Darcy’s attention was solely on Brandon. She started toward him and, though it had only been a month since they’d connected, it had been a really fantastic month. She stopped just in front of him, but before she could say a word, he wrapped his arms around her and pressed his face to her shoulder. She hugged him back and pretended that she didn’t feel his tears on her neck, even as her own tears rolled down her cheeks.
Later that night, Darcy lay in Lucien’s arms, grateful that she was there and not in some alley. She shuddered just thinking about it and, as if Lucien knew what she was thinking because he was thinking it too, he held her tighter.
“You came for me.”
“I learned that lesson the hard way. I’ll always come for you.”
She always thought that when her dream came true it would be with great fanfare. But instead it was a whisper. She was ready to soar the skies. She moved closer to Lucien because she didn’t want to soar; she was exactly where she was meant to be.
Lucien noticed the look that crossed her face and asked, “Are you okay?”
She looked up at him and smiled, “I’m not a caterpillar anymore.”
He touched her face, running his fingers down her cheek, tenderness washing over his face. He pressed a kiss to her lips before he tucked her head under his chin. “You’ll always be
my
Caterpillar.”
That memory made Darcy think of Sister Anne. “I need to visit Sister Anne tomorrow.”
Lucien looked at her. “Why?”
“Her flowers are fading.”
He sat up at that. “That was you?”
“She always loved flowers and it was my way to remember her and you.”
He pulled her to him and kissed her. “I love you, Darcy.”
She smiled up at him. “I know.” And then she batted her lashes at him. “Did you mean it?” she asked.
“What?”
“That you’ll always come for me.”
“Yes.”
“Like right now?”
The meaning was clear when Lucien rolled to pin her under him. “Ladies first.”
T
he old tree had never looked more beautiful. White lights were strung around its gnarly branches, and an arbor of white, with pink and yellow roses wound through it, was centered at its base. Rows of white chairs, divided by an aisle of white silk, stretched up the gentle slope of the hill.
Brandon held Darcy’s hand tightly as they made their way to Lucien, who stood waiting for her.
“You look beautiful, Mom.”
Darcy’s eyes met his, but her emotions were making it impossible to speak. She squeezed his hand and knew he understood.
Her eyes moved to those who had come to share this day with them. There weren’t many, but everyone here was family. She spotted Ember sitting next to Trace, his hand wrapped around hers while he held their daughter in his arms. How very different that picture could have been. She turned her focus on Lucien. When she reached him, he took her hand into his own before he brushed his lips over her ear.
“You’re stunning and late.”
It had taken a long time to get them to where they were, but had they not gone through all that they had, they wouldn’t truly appreciate what it was they had found. It hadn’t been easy, downright awful at times, but it had all led to this moment. She smiled back at him.
“Not late—exactly right on time.”
A slight grin touched his lips before he said, teasingly, “So you didn’t forget.”
“Not then, not now, not ever.” She touched his cheek. “How could I?”
His eyes grew dark before he pressed his mouth to hers.
The moment was broken when Sister Margaret cackled, “Get on with it, I’m hungry.”
They turned and walked together toward their tree. Lucien leaned down and whispered, “Thanks for meeting me this time.” His gaze fell on the small silver cross around Darcy’s neck.
“Thanks for waiting.”
“I’d wait forever for you.”
She looked up at him just when they reached their tree, and smiled. “Luckily for us that forever is starting now.”
The pastor cleared his throat. “We are gathered here today to celebrate . . .”
I really enjoyed writing this story and being back in the world of
Beautifully Damaged
. As a writer, you can get so lost in your story that days can turn into nights before you even realize it. My kids and husband are so wonderful: tolerating me when I drop off the grid for weeks at a time.
Thank you to my twin sister for being my sounding board and for being so gracious with me even after filling her e-mail with scenarios about fictional characters.
Thank you Krista Stroever, my editor, for your expertise. It is truly a pleasure working with you.
Michelle Hope Anderson, my copyeditor, thank you for your keen eyes.
Krista and Mindy, thank you for your unwavering support. I love you guys.
And lastly, I’d like to thank my dog, Artemis. We rescued her three years ago; an abused dog who was so terrified she would sit in her own pee. And now she is my constant companion and even at four in the morning when I’m still feverishly typing, she is right at my side. You are a beautiful creature and I adore your company.
L.A. Fiore enjoys writing to music. OneRepublic, Halestorm, Lifehouse, Plain White T’s, Evanescence, Steve Earle, and Flogging Molly are a few of the bands she listened to while writing Lucien’s story. When she’s not writing, she’s wrangling her two kittens—who can leap like Olympic pole vaulters—and keeping her dog from smothering the little furballs with affection. She loves hearing from readers and can be reached through Facebook.
Facebook.com/l.a.fiore.publishing
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