Chapter 14
One year later.
We married on a cliff above the ocean, two hours from the city. Small ceremony. Forty people. My college friends, his business partners, a handful of artists I'd grown close to.
No family on my side. My mother hadn't reached out. I'd stopped waiting for her to.
Naomi had sent a card. It said: *I hope you're happy. I mean it this time.*
I didn't respond. But I kept the card.
The gallery had expanded — a second location downtown, a partnership with a contemporary art museum, and a waiting list of young artists I was mentoring.
I painted every day. Not because I had to. Because I wanted to.
Sterling Development, under Kade's restructuring, had tripled in value. Marcus's name was nowhere on it.
Marcus himself had pleaded guilty to reduced charges — eighteen months in a minimum-security facility. I didn't follow the case. It didn't belong to me anymore.
After the ceremony, during the reception, I stood on the cliffside terrace with a glass of champagne and watched the sun drop toward the water.
Kade found me there. He wrapped his arms around me from behind and pressed his mouth to my temple.
"Mrs. Ashford."
I smiled. "Mr. Ashford."
"Happy?"
I leaned back against his chest.
One year ago, I'd been invisible. Diminished. A woman whose own husband couldn't be bothered to look at her before announcing her replacement.
Now I was standing on a cliff, paint permanently under my fingernails, a ring on my finger, and a man at my back who'd waited eight years for the chance to love me.
"Yes," I said. "Completely."
He kissed the side of my neck.
"Good. Because I have something else to tell you."
I turned in his arms. "If you've bought another company without telling me—"
"Not a company." He put his hand over my stomach. Looked at me with those dark eyes gone soft. "Your appointment last week. I saw the confirmation on the counter. You left it out."
My breath stuttered.
I'd been waiting for the right moment to tell him. I hadn't found it yet.
"You're not angry?"
"Elena." His voice cracked — actually cracked. For the first time since I'd known him, I watched Kade Ashford lose composure. His eyes went glassy. His hands shook against my waist.
"I have waited eight years for you. How could I be angry that we made something together?"
I pulled his face down and kissed him, tasting salt — his tears or mine, I couldn't tell.
Below us, the ocean rolled steady and endless. Behind us, music from the reception floated through the evening air.
I thought about the girl in that portrait — the one on the quad with her sketchbook, oblivious to the boy watching from across the lawn.
She'd taken the long way around. The painful way. The way that broke her down to nothing before building her back.
But she'd ended up here.
And here was exactly right.
"I love you," I said against his mouth.
"I love you more."
"Impossible."
He smiled — wide, unguarded, young.
"Try me."
(The End)
We married on a cliff above the ocean, two hours from the city. Small ceremony. Forty people. My college friends, his business partners, a handful of artists I'd grown close to.
No family on my side. My mother hadn't reached out. I'd stopped waiting for her to.
Naomi had sent a card. It said: *I hope you're happy. I mean it this time.*
I didn't respond. But I kept the card.
The gallery had expanded — a second location downtown, a partnership with a contemporary art museum, and a waiting list of young artists I was mentoring.
I painted every day. Not because I had to. Because I wanted to.
Sterling Development, under Kade's restructuring, had tripled in value. Marcus's name was nowhere on it.
Marcus himself had pleaded guilty to reduced charges — eighteen months in a minimum-security facility. I didn't follow the case. It didn't belong to me anymore.
After the ceremony, during the reception, I stood on the cliffside terrace with a glass of champagne and watched the sun drop toward the water.
Kade found me there. He wrapped his arms around me from behind and pressed his mouth to my temple.
"Mrs. Ashford."
I smiled. "Mr. Ashford."
"Happy?"
I leaned back against his chest.
One year ago, I'd been invisible. Diminished. A woman whose own husband couldn't be bothered to look at her before announcing her replacement.
Now I was standing on a cliff, paint permanently under my fingernails, a ring on my finger, and a man at my back who'd waited eight years for the chance to love me.
"Yes," I said. "Completely."
He kissed the side of my neck.
"Good. Because I have something else to tell you."
I turned in his arms. "If you've bought another company without telling me—"
"Not a company." He put his hand over my stomach. Looked at me with those dark eyes gone soft. "Your appointment last week. I saw the confirmation on the counter. You left it out."
My breath stuttered.
I'd been waiting for the right moment to tell him. I hadn't found it yet.
"You're not angry?"
"Elena." His voice cracked — actually cracked. For the first time since I'd known him, I watched Kade Ashford lose composure. His eyes went glassy. His hands shook against my waist.
"I have waited eight years for you. How could I be angry that we made something together?"
I pulled his face down and kissed him, tasting salt — his tears or mine, I couldn't tell.
Below us, the ocean rolled steady and endless. Behind us, music from the reception floated through the evening air.
I thought about the girl in that portrait — the one on the quad with her sketchbook, oblivious to the boy watching from across the lawn.
She'd taken the long way around. The painful way. The way that broke her down to nothing before building her back.
But she'd ended up here.
And here was exactly right.
"I love you," I said against his mouth.
"I love you more."
"Impossible."
He smiled — wide, unguarded, young.
"Try me."
(The End)