Page 149 of Doctorshipped
I point around to the townspeople gathered around us. “They did this. I could have never done it alone.”
I cup Jayme’s cheeks in my hands. Her skin is soft and her chocolate eyes hold that welcoming warmth I’ve craved. She’s home to me, and I feel like a man, weary of traveling too far, ready to settle into everything familiar and safe—ready to come home to her.
“I know I hurt you,” I tell Jayme. “I never want to hurt you like that again. I hope the notes … and all of this … show you what my words never could.”
“Grant.” She says my name on a breath.
A broad smile fills her face. She looks around at everyone and then back at me.
I look down at Jayme. I want to drag her away somewhere private. This moment feels too intimate to have the whole town’s eyes on us. Instead, I lean in toward her until my mouth grazes the shell of her ear and I whisper, “Jayme, I love you.”
She inhales quickly. A gasp of surprise, maybe.
She pulls back slightly until she can see my eyes. “I love you, too. And you didn’t have to do all this. I already forgave you after the first note.”
“The one about the tooth fairy?” I chuckle.
“That one. Yes. And each one after. I was coming unglued with the urge to come to you and tell you. I’d pause outside your office, fighting with myself. I wanted to pull the doors open and run in, to put us both out of the misery of what we were going through.”
“I know. I heard your footsteps slow and come to a stop several times.”
“You were listening?”
“I was. But I hadn’t earned the right to more with you yet. I wanted to give you everything you deserve, not rush into reconciliation when I hadn’t proven to you or to myself that I had changed. I wanted you to know without a shadow of a doubt that I’ll never hide from you again.”
“My open book,” she says with a soft smile, quoting my words back to me.
“For you, yes.” I look around at the crowd and then in a voice I’m sure only she can hear, I say, “For them, not so much.”
Jayme laughs. I run my hand along her hairline, pushing a curl back and watching it bounce forward.
“I love you,” I say again. “I love your fiery spirit, and the way you love others with abandon, I love your cinnamon muffins, and I love your laugh—how it sounds like music. I love your ringtone and your crazy T-shirts. I love the curves under the T-shirts.” I wag my eyebrows and she smirks playfully at me. “I love your soft edges and the way you fight for what matters to you. I love how you pour yourself into Fiona. I love you for challenging me to be the best man I can be. And I love parts of you I can’t put words to because you are different from anyone I’ve ever known. I’ll never deserve you, Jayme, but I’m hoping you’ll have me anyway.”
Jayme loops her arms up around my neck, giving me an unspoken invitation.
“I love you, Grant.”
She says this simple declaration. She’s the wordy one, the author who writes words for a living. She doesn’t embellish her love with definitions or specifics, and somehow I know. She loves me—as I am—grumpy, dour, and highly imperfect.
I loop my arms around her back and lean down, pulling her into a kiss. Her lips softly yield to mine, just how I remember her responding, only sweeter. Everything between us feels heightened after all we almost lost. I pull her in and she moves with me, gripping the back of my shirt. My hands move in soft caresses on her lower back. She pulls me near. We’re all that exists in this moment. This kiss is our universe and we are the sole inhabitants.
Duke’s voice breaks through. “Oooh yeah! That’s what I’m sayin’ Doc! That’s how it’s done!” He’s followed by catcalls and whistles from all directions.
Jayme pushes away from me, her lips swollen, a coy smile on her face, her blush rising. She looks down and shakes her head, and then she looks up at me, laughing.
“There’s really no way around this,” she tips her head sideways toward the crowd of onlookers. “If you live here, it’s kind of impossible to stay off the radar. Your business is their business.”
“I’m willing to adjust to that. As long as it means I have you.”
“You do,” she says. “You’ll always have me.”
EPILOGUE
LESS THAN A YEAR LATER
Jayme
“IlovedThicker Than Blood,” the teen girl standing in front of my table says with stars in her eyes. Stars for me.
