Still Not Yours: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Snow, Nicole

  “I know. That’s my fault. I’m so sorry, Liv. So damn sorry I let my fear take over. I’m sorry I pushed you away. I’m sorry I shut you out. I’m sorry I didn’t listen.” I hold her tighter, curling my fingers in the back of her ripped, dirtied dress. “And yeah, you'd better believe...I’m sorry as hell I ever let you go.”

  She looks at me then, assessing my litany of regret, this small, soft thing wondering if she should let me in. Give me a second chance.

  Liv, come on, I think to myself, clenching my jaw.

  Then she speaks.

  “Riker...just...never again. I need you to stay.”

  Stay? She shouldn't have to ask.

  I'm on her, wrapping her up so tight, saying more than words ever could in every touch.

  “Shhh.” I stroke my fingers through her hair. She’s shaking so hard, and I’m afraid she’s about to collapse. “Not here. We’ll talk at home. If you'll come back.” My heart’s never been in my throat this way, so big I can barely breathe or swallow it again. “If you’ll come home with me. Back where you belong, I mean.”

  She looks up at me once more, and Christ...how could I ever think this woman feared me?

  How could I have been so incredibly blind, so stupid?

  There’s so much trust in her eyes, and in the way she holds me close.

  “Of course,” she whispers, offering a shaky, but sweet smile. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

  “Then let's go home, beautiful. Together.” I bend down and sweep her up against my chest, lifting her off her feet, savoring her low, startled laughter as she fists handfuls of my shirt. “Hold on tight.”

  I don’t put her down for the entire mile walk back to my Wrangler.

  When a man has his whole world in his arms, he knows.

  When a man has a second chance, against the odds, against even death itself, he knows.

  When a man has the woman he's meant to keep forever if he wants to hang onto his own damn sanity, he knows.

  And I know it now, I know it all. Just carrying her, loving how her eyes never break from mine for a single blink.

  We don’t say a word, just move together under a silent night sky that once smelled like blood.

  Now, there's just reflected sea and stars.

  It’s like communion, this insane moment when we’ve found each other again.

  And I don’t need to say a thing.

  I only let her go to settle her into the passenger seat and stow my gear in the back. On the drive home, she stretches the limits of the seatbelt to lean against my shoulder.

  I risk one-handed driving to wrap my arm around her. The only time I speak is when I call Em’s grandparents and ask them if they can meet me at home and give them an ETA.

  They’re just parking in the driveway when we pull up. A sleepy Em climbs out of the back seat of the car, followed by the slim, slightly stooped figures of her grandparents. Crystal’s parents.

  I haven’t seen them much in ages, shutting myself off out of some strange sense of guilt even though they’ve always said I'm still welcome. Still consider me family.

  In some ways, they’re the only parents I have left, with mine passed over two decades ago – my father in a work accident, my ma from sudden illness. It was strange, even after Crystal passed, for her parents to still include me in that familial warmth I’m so unaccustomed to.

  Maybe that's why I’m completely unprepared for Grandma Em to pull me into a surprisingly strong hold the second I get out of the Wrangler, hugging me tight and murmuring “Riker, my dear boy!”

  While at the same time, my daughter launches herself at Liv, nearly flattening her back into the Wrangler. They bang into it together with an audible noise, the door almost denting from the force.

  “Liv!” Em cries. “You’re back!”

  My little girl clutches at Liv hard, almost overbalancing them both. Her face is hidden against Liv’s stomach, but I know what it sounds like when my daughter’s screwing her face up, trying not to cry. “Please don’t go away again...pretty please?”

  Liv stands there helplessly, looking at me over Em’s head. There's a question in her eyes she never should've had to doubt, waiting for an answer.

  Am I going away again?

  Then she folds her arms around Em, bowing over her, hugging her tight. “Em...oh, Em.”

  That's when it happens.

  Something builds inside me, something pushing to a breaking point.

  Something that almost snaps at a soft, wizened hand on my arm. I jerk back into myself, looking down into Grandma Em’s kindly smile and warm eyes.

  “And who's this nice young lady?” she asks. There’s something knowing in the way she looks at me, something amused and sweet.

  It’s like the question's just a formality. She already knows.

  It’s like everyone knows, and I’m the last fool to figure it out, the last one to know this is right.

  Now that I do, it’s choking, overwhelming.

  My voice strangles. “Em, meet Liv. My –”

  Little Em pulls away before I can finish, proclaiming firmly, sniffling the whole time, “She’s my friend!”

  I flash my daughter a smile. “Where's my hug?”

  Em shakes her head fiercely, wrinkling her nose at me in a mock scowl and clinging even harder to Liv. “Not you, Daddy. Not now. You need a shower.”

  Everyone bursts into laughter, and I can’t help but join in.

  This is so right. This is so us.

  My family, my love – all here, together.

  And even if I’m a mess and covered in hurt and grime and the scent of gunpowder, I feel less like the killer I once was and more like a man than I ever have before.

  A son, a father, a lover. One warmed by the sweet, naked emotion in Liv’s eyes when she looks at me. This is what I fought for. Everyone I care for, together, safe, home.

  Forever? I'm looking at it.

  Everything I need to hang on to.

  And I need to do it now, before those walls of fear and doubt and loss slam down to choke me off again.

  Maybe it’s the adrenaline ramping down. Maybe it’s something crazier.

  Fuck, I’m not questioning it anymore as I step forward, closer to Liv.

  “Em's right. I do need a shower,” I say firmly, no hint of what's next. “Which probably makes it a bad time to do this. I still haven’t gotten a ring. It's not what I pictured, but damn if I could live my life wasting another second not in the know.” I sink down to one knee, looking up at her. “Liv, listen...”

  Liv stares at me, her breaths catching audibly, and she covers her mouth with both hands. “Riker? Riker...what are you doing?”

  “The right thing. Everything I should've done weeks ago.” I hold out my hands for hers, and after a shaky moment, she slips her fingers into mine, gripping so tight.

  I hold hers just as strong, a solid, concrete reminder that she’s here, she’s safe, and I want so much to make her mine forever. “Tonight I almost lost you, and not just thanks to the Pilgrims. I never should've let you go in the first place. I can’t bear the thought of letting you disappear from my life again just because I was too damn afraid.” I glance at my daughter. “Can't bear you being out of our lives, and if it’s all right with Em...”

  Em lets out a nervous little giggle, blushing. “Oh my God, Daddy, you’re so embarrassing. Ask her.”

  At my side, Grandma Em lets out a fond, indulgent chuckle. “She’s right, dear.”

  Liv laughs. “I think the popular vote has it.”

  She leans in toward me, as if sharing a secret, all dramatic stage whisper. She’s smiling so bright, her cheeks flushed pink, and even though we’re both filthy and exhausted and disheveled, I’ve never seen her more beautiful. “Quite an audience. You'd better get it out.”

  “All part of the show, Liv.” An unplanned show that couldn't be more perfect, now that it's here.

  I grin, stroking my thumbs over her knuckles. Here we go.

&n
bsp; “Olivia Holly.” I pause. No – Olivia's that girl who belongs to her father. Liv's the woman who belongs to herself, and who I'm hoping soon belongs to me.

  “Liv,” I correct myself. “Will you marry me?”

  Just like that.

  The whole damn world tilts on its axis.

  It's not rational, it's hardly prime optics, and it's right.

  I can barely get out the words marry me before she’s exclaiming “Yes!” and throwing herself against me.

  I catch her, then wrap her up in my arms and hold her so tight, there’s hardly room to breathe between us.

  Yes. Fuck. She said yes.

  That one word was the key to unlock everything.

  I’ve been shut away inside myself for so many years, and every emotion goes flooding through me with the force of the raging waters coursing over a shattered dam. It’s overwhelming, building up inside me until I’m ready to burst my skin, my blood burning, my smile so wide, it hurts my face.

  Little Em's half laughing, half crying. Her grandparents are both smiling, looking at each other with the kind of love that can only come from decades together.

  The kind of love I hope to have with Liv for the rest of our lives.

  I pull back to look at her, stroking her cheek, threading my fingers through her hair. “I love you, Liv,” I whisper.

  Her smile only widens, and she leans in, resting her brow to mine. Just me and her in our own little world.

  “Most people,” she teases softly, “say the love part before the marriage proposal. Those three simple words can do an awful lot.”

  I beam like the sun, remembering what I wrote in her notebook.

  “So you’re not going to say you love me too? Bull.”

  “If I have to say it...” She touches her lips to mine, just the sweetest promise of what’s to come. “Then you haven’t been paying attention, sir.” Then she laughs, a happy silvery sound that lights up the night.

  “I love you, Riker Woods. With all my heart. I can't wait for you to be my husband.”

  23

  A Little Bit Like Home (Olivia)

  I finally know the ending to my story.

  The world has enough tragedies. The life we live right now, the way every day is full of little pains and ugliness and constant disappointments, is enough tragedy for anyone.

  I should know. I’ve lived my share of it all.

  But I’ve come through the other side to my happy ending, and I think my Eden deserves the same.

  As does anyone who might read her story and see a little bit of themselves in the many pieces of myself that I put into her tale.

  So maybe the story turned into a bit of a thriller, and my heroine gets her happy ending.

  Her beloved hero wakes up from his coma as if she’s willed him back to life with her strength and dedication to stay by his side, no matter how long it takes. And me?

  I get my happy ending, too.

  And I’m looking at it across the altar right now.

  I'm looking at him.

  It’s a small wedding, just like we wanted, but it’s full of big presence.

  Milah in the front row, smiling through bursts of tears, surrounded by the entire Enguard team. My idol Kenna Strauss is even there, next to Landon.

  I mean, she should be, we’re at her house, getting married on the gorgeous beach outside their estate, the sea wind blowing through my hair and threatening to send my crown of flowers sailing.

  Em’s my matron of honor, standing close by in an adorable knee-length slip dress in spring green to match her eyes. And she can’t stop smiling at Riker’s best man, none other than Ryan Godart – even if his father, Mike, is conspicuously absent – with security alerted to escort him off the premises if he even shows his face. Ryan's back with his mom now.

  My father’s conspicuously absent, too, though it’s not entirely deliberate.

  In a perfect world, I’d have possibly forgiven him just enough for him to attend my wedding, if he’d shown real, on-his-knees honest remorse. But there wasn't even a chance.

  He’s currently in police custody after spilling his guts. After losing ninety percent of his fortune.

  Life's nothing like he imagined, at least temporarily, until his plea deal for ratting out several other big names in his industry goes through.

  Maybe the past few months in jail will teach him the things he never seemed to learn about being human.

  I’m surprised how much I don’t miss him. But it’s been hard to miss my old life when my new life keeps coming together so wonderfully.

  Riker finally got me a ring. I finally finished Eden in Alaska, and my literary agent is in final negotiations with a major publisher for an advance and publishing deal.

  Busting Lion gave the FBI what they needed to bring down the entire multi-state Pilgrims organization. That shadow isn't over us anymore, leaving our days and our lives bright and breathless and perfect.

  Every moment led us up to this day, when I can finally look at Riker so handsome in his suit and realize in just a few moments, in just a few words, this man looking at me with his heart in his eyes will be my husband for the rest of our lives.

  When I first met Riker Woods, I never could've imagined that he’d be so warm. So open.

  So expressive, the love written on his face for everyone to see as he clasps my hands tight and we listen to the priest reading us through our vows. Those perfect words.

  Those sweet, perfect words that I’m hardly aware I'm speaking, when my entire world narrows on him.

  His smile.

  That spark in his vivid green eyes.

  The way his lips shape every syllable of to have and to hold, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health. And then the priest asks me, there are only two words I could ever say.

  Two simple words to go with his three.

  “I do.”

  And then it’s Riker’s turn, and his small, warm smile turns into a full, dazzling grin, teeth white against the silver-and-brown trim of his beard.

  “I do, Liv. Always. Now and forever, I do.”

  My heart nearly rockets from my chest.

  The priest gets maybe half a second more to tell us we’re officially man and wife.

  Then we’re in each other’s arms, fused together as we share our first kiss as forever. He tastes like the promise of every future I’ve ever wanted.

  Like the independence I’ve fought to have for myself as I cut myself loose from the last strings tying me to my father and a life that was never my own.

  He tastes like every dream I’ve ever had, and I lose myself gladly in him, in the firmness and heat of his mouth, in the way he turns me inside out with every sighing stroke and whisper of my name.

  We might have stayed that way forever if not for Milah’s voice rising over the laughter and applause. “Hey, you two. Save some for the honeymoon.”

  Flushing hotly, I break back, looking up at Riker. I can’t stop smiling, and he’s just as bad, grinning from ear to ear. Leaning in, he whispers against my ear. “So is this the perfect wedding we talked about?”

  “Any wedding would be perfect as long as you’re here,” I tease, curling my fingers against the back of his neck. “For a minute, I was afraid you'd get cold feet.”

  “Never. You’re what I’ve been after for years, Liv.” He steals another kiss, leaving me warm from the inside out. “You’re the reason I learned how to live again.”

  I don’t get a chance to answer when the entire wedding rushes in on us.

  Everyone wants to congratulate us, hug us, from Riker’s coworkers to Em’s grandparents. Somehow the wedding tumbles into a small reception party around Landon and Kenna’s pool, with Milah up on a dais built just for her and belting out her latest single while people eat, dance, stroll together.

  Riker and I have our first wedding dance, and it’s mostly us laughing and him holding me up while I trip over my train and then finally just give up and tie it around my waist like the he
athen I am so that he and I can swirl in and out of each other’s arms and let the whole world fall away just a little bit more, once again.

  I’ve never been this happy in my life.

  Even when we’re pulled apart again.

  What no one ever tells you about weddings is that everyone wants a piece of you because everyone wants to touch a little of your happiness, like it’s starshine that can rub off on them in magic, glittery dust.

  I’m happy to share that with them with laughter, with hugs, with shared gifts, with warm and friendly conversation. Sometimes I feel like I never truly knew what family was, but these people feel like family.

  These people feel like home.

  Once the pool is ringed with wrapping paper and the tables piled high with gifts and everyone is pleasantly tipsy, we’re about to make our grand, melodramatic escape for our honeymoon when James intercepts us.

  He offers a dark maroon whiskey gift box with the name Glenfiddich on the outside, wrapped up in a pretty gold ribbon and bow.

  “I nearly forgot,” he says, smooth as always. He doesn’t creep me out anymore, but he still manages to be cold as ice even under the summer sun. “Your wedding gift, my friend.”

  Riker snorts a laugh as he takes the box, eyeing it appreciatively. “It’s not a gift if I won it fair and square, you cheap bastard.”

  “You didn’t win,” James points out coolly. “Remember? The condition was three catastrophes to win the bet. I dare say this?” He glances around the reception, then stops with a pointed look at me, one brow arching. “Hardly qualifies as a catastrophe.”

  “I’ll give you that one,’ Riker admits dryly.

  “You shall.” James sweeps a mocking half-bow. “Now, as I'm the only sober one here, I’ll bring your car around so you can make your escape.”

  Rolling his eyes, Riker fishes his keys from his pocket and tosses them at James. James catches them out of the air, then melts through the crowd and away. I watch him for a moment, then give Riker a puzzled look.

  “What was that about?”

  Riker actually blushes. My big, rugged, stoic man actually blushes.