Page 223 of Between Passion and Revenge: Part Two

“Your little sister or brother just decided to kick my bladder. No big deal,” she says. “But you’re getting into torture territory if you don’t let my ass sit down. Preferably somewhere with air conditioning.”

I snap into action, winding my arm around hers and guiding us toward the automatic doors.

“C’mon, Sweetness,” I murmur. “Let’s go get married again.”

When she looks at me, beams at me, it’s like staring at a shooting star.

God, I’m so damn lucky.

We enter the lobby and lining each side of a red carpet are dozens of nurses, doctors, and therapists, all of whom helped me in my recovery. Dr. Swanson stands in the middle of the line closest to me, giving me a broad smile and a wave; the rehabilitation doctor and my four physical therapists line up on the other side.

All of these people helped me heal.

I look back at Shae, who looks soft and happy and like a tiny tornado wrapped in white.

She is the one who made me whole.

When we get to the doors of the hospital chapel, Tempest stands on one side with a now-clean Imani, and Raiden, having sprinted ahead of us, stands on the other with Amir.

“I love every single one of you,” I say, looking at each of my children. Then I lean down to Shae’s ear. “And I love you to life, Sweetness.”

Her smile broadens.

“Ditto, Slick,” she replies.

Inside, Shae’s mom and her new husband stand together near the altar, waiting for us. Melissa has taken the day off from Orisun to join us, and she stands next to Axel, Riale, Yennifer, and King in front of the wooden folding chairs provided by the hospital for those who come here to pray.

I do a double-take when I spot the girl next to King. She nearly hides her face in his suit jacket, but there’s no mistaking who she is.

I look away. That’s King’s business, I guess.

We reach the end of the aisle, standing in front of the same chaplain who married us eight years ago to the day.

“You still down for forever, Shae Sandoval?” I murmur to my soulmate.

She turns her face, her lips inches from mine.

“Forever, Storm Sandoval,” she vows. Our lips press together, just once, because we can’t help ourselves.

I smile when we pull apart and reaffirm my vow with her hand pressed to my chest.

Right over my heart.

“Forever and ever.”