Page 95 of Protecting his Heart

“He was a big part of your life,” Owen murmured. “I thought it was a good starting point.” He rubbed his cheek. “Am I wrong?”

Evan shook his head, a smile curving his lips. “I’m glad. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to see him again.”

Owen parked outside the cemetery, and they climbed out. He took Evan’s hand and let Evan lead him to where his friend was laid to rest. They stopped in front of a stone headstone with the Italian inscribing:Antonio Rossi, father, husband, son, friend. A man known for seeing things clearly.

They stood in the chilly air, and Owen encouraged Evan to talk about him, which he did. He told funny stories of how their first appointment went, and how their relationship developed into friendship, and how Evan got a roasting when he finally explained about Owen.

Owen hoped he wasn’t about to make a mistake. He pulled the box from his pocket and let go of Evan’s hand. “I chose this place as our first destination because I wanted Antonio to witness something. I hope you don’t find it morbid, though.” Evan glanced at him, and Owen dropped to one knee. Despite the cold ground seeping into his jeans, he knelt, looking up at his beloved. “Evan, we’ve been through so many ups and down, as friends and as a couple, but I want those times to continue. I don’t want to ever be without you. And I want to thank Antonio for perhaps helping to nudge you to return home so we could have this second chance. Evan, will you marry me?”

Tears were streaming down Evan’s face, but his voice was strong when he replied, “Yes. Without a doubt, yes.”

Owen stood and pulled the white gold ring from its bed and slipped it on Evan’s finger. Then he cupped his fiancé’s jaw and kissed him. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

****

Their time in Italy went quickly, but they got to experience together all the things Evan had experienced alone the first time. When they reached home in the middle of the night, they both passed out, but their phones blew up several hours later with calls and messages. It was their own fault because they’d not only forgotten to put their phones on silent, but they’d sent a message to everyone before they went to bed telling them the good news.

They had just decided to go back to sleep when the doorbell rang, and Owen groaned. “Never again do we tell people our news before we’ve had some sleep. Agreed?”

“Uh-huh,” Evan mumbled.

Owen dragged himself from the bed and stumbled to the front door, not even looking to see who it was before he pulled it open. “What?” he barked.

The girl standing on his doorstep jerked back, the flowers in her hands trembling. “Um, Mr Morris? I have, um, a delivery?”

Owen wiped a hand over his face. “Sorry, I’ve not had much sleep. I apologise. Thank you for delivering them.”

She thrust the bouquet at him and raced away. He didn’t blame her. He hadn’t had enough sleep or coffee for this day to begin. He carried the flowers to the table and reached for the note.

“Who was it?”

“A florist. We have flowers.”

He glanced at the note, rubbing his eyes when they didn’t want to focus.

Owen,

Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials. I’m sure you’ll be wonderful together. I just hope you make every minute count because I’ve not finished with any one of you yet.

Ciao!

Owen froze, then grabbed the flowers and raced back to the front door. He threw them into the bin and slammed the lid before pushing it as far away from any house as he could without it being on the road. Running back to the bedroom, he grabbed his phone and dialled, his gaze meeting Evan’s wide eyed one.

“Brett, we’ve just had another note. Delivered with flowers, which are now in the bin outside our house just in case there’s a gift we don’t want near us. Could you please send someone for it?” He gave him the details of the florist and the woman in case it was relevant.

“When I get hold of this guy…” Brett muttered. “Hold on.”

The line went quiet, so he focused on Evan. “I’ve no idea who this guy is, but he not only knew we went to Italy, but he knows we’re engaged, too. This fucker is pissing me off.”

“Let me see.” Evan held out his hand for the note, reading it with a furrowed brow. “The handwriting looks similar, but he’s not done any capitals this time.”

Brett came back on. “We have the bomb squad on their way. I think it’s unlikely to have a bomb in it because we’ve confirmed the woman who delivered it works at the florists.”

“He must’ve visited the place because Evan says the handwriting looks similar.”

“We’ll look into it. In the meantime, stay inside until the bomb squad has done their checks. I’ll call you shortly.”

---