Page 79 of The First Kind of Love
Shiloh withdraws, giving me the opportunity to clean the smattering of slow-drying moisture on her skin. “I was wrong about you, Fulton. Youaremy knight in shining armor. You saved me, even when I pushed you away,” she whispers, her tears nothing but remnants of the past now.
“You’rethe one who savedme. And I’ll forever be indebted to you for the rest of my life. For your kindness, your understanding, your patience. You showed me that there’s more to life than just heartbreak.”
“Andyoushowed me that there’s more to life than just work.”
I lean forward to press a kiss to her forehead, and I inhale her scent as if it’s my lifeblood. It still hasn’t dawned on me that my future is packed into five feet of kick-ass and inspiring determination.
“Sounds like we saved each other, Sunshine.”
“I love you,” she says in a small voice, gulping around anincurable lump in her throat. “You’re my family too, just as much as my parents are.”
“I love you more than you’ll ever know, Shiloh Nguyen. My heart was in stasis before I met you. You’re the reason I can breathe easily now. The world doesn’t deserve you, and it never will. You were made to change lives, and I’m honored that I got to be the first. I pity the people who’ll never get the privilege of crossing paths with you, because you’ve given me so many reasons to keep living. I feel like the world left this dwindling fire inside me, but destiny knew that you’d be the oxygen to keep me alight. And I’ll burn for you every day, for the rest of my life.”
Rising to her tiptoes—and taking her platforms with her—she upgrades our forehead kiss to one on the lips, sealing her mouth over mine in a starburst of love. It’s a completely new species of affection, one that’s been bred through every mind-numbing touch and life-altering kiss that we’ve shared in the past. I never want it to end. I could stay here for hours, subsisting on the taste of her, exploring every addictive inch of her body until I can’t even navigate the back of my own hand.
But, to my dismay, Shiloh breaks our kiss. “Wait a second, if you’re here, then…what about the wedding?!”
Now that Gate B15 is nearly vacant, I have no trouble embarrassing myself for the hundredth time today as I take a bow, one arm tucked against my torso and the other outstretched to the side. “Shiloh, would you do me the honor of being my plus-one to Hayes and Aeris’ wedding?”
She brandishes one of the biggest smiles I’ve ever seen before clamping her hand over my upturned palm. “I thought you’d never ask.”
25
A MEANS FOR CELEBRATION
SHILOH
I’ve never feared for my life in a car before, but there’s a first time for everything. And if you ask Fulton, that curb came out of nowhere.
Somehow, though, we made it back to the venue in record time without being pulled over for speeding. I was tasked with the nearly impossible job of fixing my makeup post-crying session, and Fulton was tasked with drying his armpits out using the air-conditioning.
I spoke to my parents about not being able to make it, but when I told them about Fulton investing in the business just this once so we can make payroll, it hacked their anxiety in half like an axe felling timber. Luckily, they understood that my priorities lay elsewhere, and they were proud of me for listening to my heart for the first time.
I can’t believe Fulton bought a ticket and raced through the entire airport to find me, knowing very well that I could’ve already been forty thousand feet up in the air. The small, hopeless romantic in me was praying that he’d stop me from making the biggest mistake of my life, and I should’ve known that Fulton Cazzarelli would never abandon me in my time of need.
Feeling his arms around me and seeing him in person—it felt like fate had finally taken a chance on the awkward, work-obsessed girl with the less-than-subpar love life to match. Nothing can keep me from him, and to think that work was even a contender is laughable.
Fulton Cazzarelli is my Achilles’ heel. But as vulnerable as he makes me, he instills in me an equal measure of strength. When I’m with him, I don’t live with both feet in the future or in a permanent state of worry. When I’m with him, he lends me the courage to shut out the voices of unreason so I can swim to shore.
Now, here I am, sniffing back ugly tears while I watch my dear friend walk down the aisle in the most beautiful gown in existence. Fulton’s in a similar state as I am, discreetly rubbing his watering eyes on the sleeve of his suit—one that has just become the irreplaceable core of all my fantasies.
God, how did I get so lucky?
We steal glances here and there, and every time I lock eyes with him, I squeeze the rough stems of my bouquet a little harder. As the sun rests on its pedestal in the sky—flirting with the architecture of the flower-girdled arbor—something hot and heavy sits at the base of my throat.
Hayes sweeps Aeris’ veil back with reverent hands, and the minute he takes in the timeless beauty of his soon-to-be-wife, tears well in his eyes with a vengeance that can’t be stamped out.
I always believed in love, but I never believed it would find me. Fulton was a blessing in disguise that appeared when I least expected it, and now I stand across from him, envisioning a future where I’m the one in the floor-length dress, cupping my heart in my hands and offering it to the man who’d move mountains just for a chance to hold it.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to witness the union of Hayes and Aeris—two unlikely souls whohave been blessed with the gift of finding each other out of eight billion people in the world. Whether you’re just joining them or you’ve been here for the long haul, we welcome you as members of their family,” the officiant states with an incandescent smile.
I glance out at the crowd, my belly warming when I discern an older woman in the front row dabbing her eyes with an embroidered handkerchief. Judging by the uncanny resemblance, she must be Aeris’ mother, her gorgeous head of hair the same silver as a frosted-over lake in the middle of winter. Beside her is presumably Aeris’ father, who’s faring far worse with wet cheeks and a red nose.
As much as I want to focus on the officiant’s speech, I blame Fulton’s dazzling good looks for accosting my attention, and it feels like the giddy high of a morphine rush is zinging through my body. Envious of his composure, my shoulders shake with a silent chuckle, and he mouthsI love youfrom across the aisle, as if the words themselves are his salvation.
The same sentiment gets wedged in my throat before reaching my lips.
Halfway through the wedding—with a quarter of the Reapers already teary-eyed and down for the count—we get to the vows, and neither bride nor groom have to rely on a cue card to communicate their love for one another.
