When I Was Yours (Page 49)

It’s another flashback to my youth, reminding me of the way I loved her back then, how much I loved her, probably from the moment I had seen her sitting up there.

After I’ve finished surfing, she’s still up there, sketching. I know she said she didn’t draw anymore, but she seems to have her mojo back—or whatever it is that artists have—and I don’t want to interrupt, so I leave her out there and go inside to take a shower.

When I’m showered and dressed, I head out of my room to see if she’s ready for dinner. I was thinking we could order something in.

I walk out of my bedroom, and something makes me look to the left. That’s when I see my old bedroom door ajar.

I always have that door locked. I don’t want to risk anyone going in there and realizing what a fucking freak I am.

I was in there last weekend, just looking at stuff. I must have forgotten to lock it.

Fuck!

My feet are moving toward the door, my heart pumping in my chest. I have to know if she’s in there or if it just opened somehow. It definitely wasn’t open earlier. I would have seen it.

But if she’s in there, then…she’ll have seen it. And she’ll know that I’m not over her, that I never got over her.

With a shaking hand, I grab the handle and push the door the rest of the way open.

She’s here, standing in the middle of the room, with her wedding dress in her hands, her eyes on it.

She looks up at me, startled.

There are tears in her eyes along with a look of confusion mixed with shock.

I feel like I’ve just caught her reading my diary.

Anger bubbles in my veins. My heart burns. My stomach roils. My hands shake. My head starts to pound. Embarrassment and humiliation stain my skin.

I literally don’t know what to do.

So, I do the only thing I can.

I turn and walk out of the room, slamming the door behind me.

We drove to Vegas in my rental truck, leaving at six this morning, and we arrived at lunchtime. We checked in at our hotel and then went in search of a chapel. We found one close by the hotel, so we booked with them.

We’re getting married at six p.m.

Then, we went shopping.

We bought wedding rings. I wanted to buy Evie an engagement ring, but she wouldn’t let me. She said we weren’t technically engaged since we’d just decided to get married only yesterday, and now, we were here today to do just that. She said she wanted a wedding ring. I knew it was more about not spending my money.

It bothers her, especially since it’s technically my parents’ money. It bothers me to a certain degree, but it’s the least my so-called parents can do, seeing as they pretty much made my childhood miserable, have given me nothing but grief all my life, and will no doubt cut me off after I tell them that Evie and I are married and that I’m not going to Harvard or going to work for Eric at the studio. So, I can justify their money paying for my wedding.

So, there was no engagement ring, but she couldn’t argue with a wedding ring. We picked matching platinum bands. Evie’s has diamonds set in it. I pushed for that. She would have gone with the plainest and cheapest one, if I had let her.

The jeweler said we could add an inscription on them, if we wanted, as part of the purchase price. That was something we both agreed on.

I asked Evie what we should have, and she came up with the perfect inscription.

HE IS MINE, AND I AM HIS.

SHE IS MINE, AND I AM HERS.

And the rings are now in their box, tucked safely in the inside pocket of my tuxedo, while I impatiently wait for Evie to finish getting ready in the bathroom.

I forced her to buy a wedding dress, which I haven’t seen yet.

She’d suggested getting married in a white dress that she already had. I wouldn’t have that, so I pushed her into a bridal store, after giving her one of my credit cards, while I went into the suit store across the street to buy my tux.

I’m getting married.

It might sound crazy to some, considering I’m only nineteen and Evie’s eighteen, but I don’t care. I’ve never been this happy in my whole life. From the first moment I met Evie, I knew that she was the one.

Max doesn’t know where I am. Well, I didn’t sneak off or anything. I just told him that Evie and I were going camping for a few days. It’s not a total lie, not if you think that staying in a Vegas hotel is similar to camping.

I don’t like lying to Max, but if I’d told him we were coming to Vegas, he’d have guessed. He’s not stupid. What other reason would we come here for? It’s not like either of us is old enough to gamble or drink. I know Max would have tried to talk me out of it, and I didn’t want anyone talking me out of this.

I want this with Evie, badly, like I’ve never wanted anything before.

I know Evie’s mine, and I know that she loves me, but I just want to make her mine in name. I want the world to know she’s mine, that she belongs with me, that she’ll never leave me.

Evie told her dad the same as I’d told Max, that we were going camping. When we get back, I know we’ll have to tell everyone the truth, that we got married. Mick has only just come around to letting Evie spend the night with me at the beach house, so I’m trying not to think about how he will react when he hears the news. I’m just hoping he doesn’t own a shotgun.

I hear the lock turn on the bathroom door, instantly pulling my attention to it. I get to my feet.

The door opens, and then Evie’s here, standing in the doorway, and I can’t fucking breathe.

She looks sensational, beautiful, breathtaking.

There really aren’t enough adjectives to describe just how incredible she looks.

Evie’s beauty has always been unparalleled. And right now, that has never been truer.

Her gown is simple but stunning—strapless with a tulle skirt that stops at her feet. A pale pink sash is tied around her waist with a bow on her back. With a simple flower wreath on her head, her hair is down, flowing in its natural wave.

“Hey, handsome.” She puts the clutch in her hand on the desk as she gives me a smile that stops my heart.

“You’re beautiful,” I tell her.

“Yeah?” She touches a hand to her hair.

“Yeah.” I walk toward her, my heart in my throat. “You’re perfect, Evie. You’re just…” I’m struggling with my words. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. “Everything.”

A light shines in her eyes. She reaches out and places her hand against my chest, covering my heart. “You’re everything, too, Adam, more than I think you realize.” She reaches up on her toes and kisses me.

The gloss on her lips tastes like strawberries. But she smells like Evie, like the beach on a hot summer day.

I wrap my arms around her and take the kiss deeper.

She breaks away too soon for my liking. “I’m gonna have to do my lips again,” she says breathlessly, a smile on her face.

“You’re fine,” I tell her.

“You’re not.” She giggles, touching a finger to my now tacky lips. “I’ll grab you a tissue.”

She goes to the bathroom before returning a second later with a tissue in hand.

“Here.” She reaches up, wiping the gloss from my lips.