Page 45 of Daring Wicked Love (Wicked Dade #2)

SIX MONTHS LATER.

It was our second Christmas that the three of us were all together. Compared to last Christmas, I wasn’t a blubbering mess, wearing a pair of mismatched shoes.

This Christmas was different. It was perfect from the second I opened my eyes to Penelope jumping into bed between us and filling us in on how she swore she heard Santa and all his reindeer on the roof in the middle of the night.

We cooked dinner. Though when I say ‘we,’ I meant I cooked dinner, because Frederic was still as useless as a chocolate fireguard in the kitchen.

The man would burn cereal if it were at all possible.

But bless him and my ovaries, he did try.

However, most of his efforts resulted in him distracting me.

Knee-quaking kisses pressed to my neck, teasing hands wandering places they had no business being while I was fighting with the stupid oven made for N.A.S.A and whispered dirty words in my ear that had me squeezing my thighs together to soothe the burning ache.

If it weren’t for Penelope drifting in and out of the kitchen, I had no doubt Frederic would have followed through on his many whispered promises of filling me until I screamed. But alas, he was forced to behave, and instead, he continued to kiss me breathless.

After dinner, Frederic and Penelope took themselves off to do the washing up, the pair of them conspiring together over something I was not allowed to know—an apparent surprise Christmas present.

Watching them, Penelope’s small head tucked close to her father as they giggled over their shared secret, made my heart grow at least five sizes.

This was it.

They were my family, and I wouldn’t change it for the whole universe.

My phone ringing tore me away from the sight of the two people I loved most. My chest tightened as the one name I hadn’t seen in what felt like an eternity lit up the screen.

Taking myself to the living room, I closed the door behind me and hovered my thumb over the green button.

Just answer it, Orla. What’s the worst that can happen?

“Hello,” I found the courage to answer after several drawn-out seconds.

A beat of silence. “Hi, Orla.”

It had been so long—too long.

A lifetime of things had happened since we spoke last.

My sister had remained a ghost in my life since our last fateful conversation over a year ago.

Though I had sent her messages, attempting to reach back out to her, she left every single one of them on read.

She rejected my calls and even resorted to returning the hand-written letters I mailed to her.

Including the one inviting her to New York to see my exhibit six months ago. A full-expense-paid trip that Frederic had been more than willing to cover, just so I could have my sister there for my opening night at the Savannah Gallery .

Unsurprisingly, yet still painfully, she never came.

Eventually, I gave up hope that Niamh wanted anything to do with me.

Our relationship was clearly too broken to ever be salvaged.

It was something I talked thoroughly about to mine and Frederic’s therapist, Dr. Moorehead. He helped me see the truth I had been avoiding for far too long.

That no matter what I did, no matter how much I wanted my sister in my life, relationships were a two-way street, and that no matter how much I forced it, without her willingness to meet me halfway, it would only end in more heartbreak for me.

Sometimes we have to learn to let things go, even if it hurts like hell, because pain was only temporary.

“It’s been a while,” Niamh said, her voice strained and tight. “How are you?”

“I’m doing really well,” I said truthfully. “How’s you? How’s life been treating you?”

“Fine. It’s been…fine.”

Silence perched itself between us.

“That’s good.” I toyed with a button on my daisy-printed dress. “It’s good to hear from you.”

A low exhale crackled through the phone. “It is?”

“Of course. I’ve missed speaking to you, hearing your voice, and knowing that you’re okay.”

“After what happened between us… After I didn’t call you back all those times?” Her voice wavered. “Aren’t you still angry with me? I’d be angry with me if I was you…”

“I won’t lie to you. I was hurt when you didn’t reach out, when you chose to ignore me for months on end.” I said firm yet gentle. “But you’re still my sister, and I love you.”

Silence answered back.

“Niamh, no matter what happens between us, no matter how shitty we are to each other, you’ll always be my baby sister.”

I could hear her breathing through the phone, slow and uneven.

“You still there?”

“I…” she started to speak only to stop short.

I waited. I wouldn’t push myself on her, force her into opening up to me like I’d done all our lives—not this time.

“I didn’t know what to say to you,” she finally admitted. “Every time I picked up the phone, I thought about what I’d say, how I’d explain myself…and then I’d just put it back down. I fucked up, like really fucked up.”

“You didn’t have to explain anything, Niamh. I get we won’t ever have that sisterly relationship I longed for, but knowing you’re safe is all I wanted. I just wanted to know you were okay.”

She let out an uneven chuckle. “I wasn’t. I mean, how could I be?”

“Niamh, if you were struggling, why didn’t you call me? Even a simple text message to let me know you were struggling, and I would have helped whatever way I could.”

“I don’t deserve you still wanting me in your life after how I treated you all those years. You were right, I blamed you because, honestly? It was easy. Rather than dealing with my own shit, I held onto my childish bullshit. And fucking hell, I am so sorry Orla.”

For years, for most of my life, actually, that’s all I wanted to hear from her.

To hear her admit and accept her role in our messed-up relationship, it was something I thought would never happen.

An impossibility that I was learning to accept, but hearing her finally say it out loud, my mind struggled to process and trust it.

My grip tightened around the phone.

“I don’t know how to fix this.”

“You don’t have to fix anything right now,” I said softly. “You just have to be here, you just have to say you’re willing to try and be better. The two of us can be better for each other, if that’s what you want.”

Silence again.

Then, so quietly I almost missed it, she said, “I want to fix this. I want to try and be a better sister to you.”

A lump rose in my throat. “If you’re willing to try, then that’s all I can ask from you.”

With the promise to be better, to try and do better by each other, my heart soared as I hung up the phone just as a certain little blonde princess peeked her head into the living room.

Penelope grinned from ear to ear. “Are you ready for your surprise?”

“I sure am! Lead the way, Princess.”

“You got to close your eyes,” she said, her hand tucking snugly into mine. “No peeking, not until I tell you.”

Shutting my eyes, I let her guide me out of the living room and through the house, out into the back garden. The frosty winter air nipped at my arms and nose, goosebumps erupting over my skin, but when she nudged me to open my eyes, I didn’t feel an ounce of the freezing cold.

Along the path leading from the back door to the glass sun house were rows of flickering candles, their flames dancing in the bitter breeze.

It was like something ripped right out of a fairytale.

My stomach flipped when Penelope pulled me along the path, smiling like the Cheshire Cat while her eyes twinkled in the candlelight.

As we reached the sun house, my breath caught in my throat.

Inside, newly installed fairy lights hung from the glass ceiling, casting a warm, golden glow against the ice frosting the windows from the outside. Fresh, vivid flowers took up the shelves, ones that transported me straight back to the botanical gardens in Nice.

It was the perfect cozy, safe haven from the snow falling thicker outside.

And in the center of it all, standing tall with his hands tucked into his pockets, was the man who still made the butterflies in my stomach soar.

My heart pounded as I glanced between him and Penelope, who giggled before whispering, “Merry Christmas, Orla.”

Frederic took a slow step forward, his blue eyes glimmering with something unreadable, but when he reached for my hands, I knew.

He was nervous.

The Frederic Dade was nervous. Now that was a sight to behold.

“What is all this?” I asked quietly, interlocking my fingers with his.

“This,” he said, squeezing my hands, “is me trying to show you how much you mean to me. How much I love you. How I can’t dare to think of a life without you.”

My lips parted, but no words came out.

He exhaled, shaking his head with a small chuckle. “I had this whole speech planned, ma chérie . Something poetic. Something perfect that you’d read in one of those cowboy romance books you love so much. But then I saw you standing there, looking at me like that, I forgot every damn word.”

“Frederic…”

“The thing is, I’ve known for a long time now that I can’t imagine a future without you. Orla, you’re my future. You and Penelope, you’re my home. My heart. Mon tout. ”

The very air around us was still.

Then, in one smooth motion, he let go of my hands and dropped to one knee.

I swallowed a squeal of excitement as a black velvet box appeared in his palm. When he opened it, inside sat a delicate diamond and opal ring that rendered me utterly speechless.

It was beautiful, unique, and everything I could have dreamt of and more.

“You’re it for me, for now and forever. And I don’t want another day to pass without you being my wife,” he said. “Orla, my sunshine hurricane, will you marry me?”

The candles, the cold, the fairy lights—it all faded into nothing.

Because in this moment, there was only him.

A smile that hurt my cheeks broke free as I dropped to my knees in front of him. “Yes,” I whispered, pressing my forehead to his. “A thousand times, yes.”

The second he slipped the ring onto my finger, I threw myself into his arms and crashed my lips to his.

“ Je t’ai attendu toute une vie, Orla,” he breathed between my lips. “I love you.”

Frederic was never the Ice Man. He was simply a man who reserved his love, guarding it closely. But when he let his guard down, when he dared to take a chance on love, he did so with a fierceness that overpowered everything else.

I was lucky to be loved by him.

And as he wrapped his arms around me, with Penelope tucking herself right in the center of us where she belonged, I knew that this was it.

This was a daring, wicked kind of love, and against all the odds, it was mine.

THE END.