Two years later...
SITTING AT THE end of the pier, I stared out at the water, watching as it glistened and danced under the rays of the waning sun. The sky was painted in vibrant shades of purple and orange—gold swashes streaked throughout its colorful canvas. It looked as breathtaking and beautiful as it had that day. Almost two years had passed since Owen held me tightly in his arms, pointing to the spot where the ocean met the sky and whispering in my ear that I’d been right—he was more than convinced that was where heaven existed and that that’s where he’d be, forever watching over me.
Forever.
He’d once thought he couldn’t give me forever, but he’d been wrong. That day we both realized that no matter where he was, here or there, he’d forever be with me.
He’d forever be in my heart.
Closing my eyes, the corners of them stinging with what I knew was the formation of tears, I inhaled deeply, trying to swallow down the rush of unexpected emotion and dull the ache pulsing in my chest. Crying randomly was something I’d find myself doing often, especially lately, seeing as all my dreams were finally coming true.
And I owed it all to him—to Owen.
He’d never stopped pushing me. He’d never stopped believing in me. He was the reason I was even sitting there now with a physical copy of my first ever book in my hands. He was the reason why I couldn’t open it and read the pages without tears filling my eyes. He was the constant whisper in my heart that made me believe in myself.
He was still my everything.
“We did it,” I whispered, my chin quivering as I reached up to swipe away the wetness soaking my cheeks before quickly drying my hands on my shorts. My fingers smoothed over the matte cover, the title—Our Alternate Ending—that couldn’t be any more fitting, and the typewriter and ink splotches that I thought added a completely unique touch. “We did it.”
The words lingered in the air, and a set of large hands ghosted down my arms, curling themselves around my waist.
“No. This was all you.”
The deep, familiar voice that made my heart flutter drifted over my shoulder, and I gave my head a little shake as if to convince myself it wasn't merely a figment of my imagination. A heady warmth swept down my chest as I twisted around, meeting a set of dark green eyes that looked far more beautiful under the setting sun. Soft lips immediately captured mine, melding together in a slow and sensual kiss. The tips of my toes curled, and as our connection broke, I smiled.
“I never doubted you, Elle.” Owen’s thumb brushed along the corner of my mouth in that tender way that always sent a shiver racing the length of my spine. “Not for one second, baby.”
As if needing physical reassurance, I took his face in my hands and traced the tips of my fingers along the lines of his features—his strong jaw, the lower curve and cupid’s bow of his lips, his sculpted cheekbones. He was there, he was whole, and he was alive. He was living proof miracles can and do exist.
Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to my forehead as his thumbs came up to collect the fresh drops that had fallen. “Why are you crying, huh?”
“It’s just so much.” I sniffed back my emotion and glanced down at the book now sitting beside us on the worn, weathered deck. “Seeing this, reading it…I thought I was going to lose you that day.”
Picking the book back up, I flipped to that page and read where I had left off...
With tears streaming down my face, I gathered every ounce of strength I could find and pushed myself up, bringing my face to his and kissing him softly. I choked back another sob, whispering against his lips. “I’m going to give us an alternate ending. I promise.”
Running my hands through the soft strands of his hair, I kissed every feature on his handsome face: his eyes, his nose, his cheeks. I trailed my lips over his jaw and then placed another kiss on his mouth. I stared at him with an ache in my heart until I was sure each and every line and curve were forever sealed in my memory, and then I scooted back down, curling into his side and hugging him.
Lying there, I thought about how much I loved him and how painfully beautiful love could be, how it not only opened our eyes but how it opened our hearts, how it gave us hope in a sometimes hopeless world, and how it challenged us to be better, reminded us that at the end of the day all we were was human and how lucky we were to feel such emotion.
“I love you, Owen Caldwell. I love you so much. Always.”
In the peaceful silence of the room, I drifted off to sleep. I dreamed of what spending a lifetime with Owen would be like, and even in my subconscious state, I cried. I cried for the love we shared and the future we’d never get to experience together. I cried for the man who had become a part of me, the man who believed in me when I struggled to believe in myself, and the man who had made it his priority to give me everything, including a love that was unconditional.
In my dreams, we had forever.
It wasn’t until a short time later that I awoke. A gentle hand smoothed up my back and if it were not for the series of tingles dancing across my skin and the flutter of wings swarming in my stomach, I would've refused to acknowledge whoever it was now in our presence.
“At the very least…there are about a quarter of a million words in the English language—”
My eyes flew open and my head snapped up, my breath hitching as those familiar words hit my ears, their sound and the gravelly voice they were delivered on like a lost melody I’d been longing to hear.
“And yet somehow...there still aren’t nearly enough to express how much in love with you I am.”
“Owen!” Fresh tears spilled as relief and happiness flowed through every cell in my body, and I scrambled to sit up, careful to avoid the wires making it difficult for him to move. Cradling his face gently in my hands, I crushed our lips together. “Oh God. I thought I was going to lose you. I thought—”
“Shh…” He continued to kiss me—deeply, desperately, passionately—his weak arms coming up and circling around me. Despite his lacking strength, he felt warm and solid, and he gripped me as if he were never going to let me go. I cried. He cried. I cried some more, unable to stop the release of emotion and not even wanting to. With his fingers tangled in my hair and his forehead pressed flat against mine, he held my watery gaze. “I’m not going anywhere just yet,” he gritted, letting out a small choking sound. “I’m not going anywhere until I’m done loving you, and I’m not done loving you, Elle Callihan. Do you understand me? Not even fucking close, baby.”
My entire body shook, shook from his words, from the feel of his lips on mine, and from the look in his beautiful green eyes that only minutes ago I’d feared I’d never again see.
A few days later and with a whole host of new prescriptions, Owen was finally cleared to go home. He’d been discharged from the hospital on direct orders to take it easy as much as possible and to simply enjoy life. There was no change to his initial diagnosis or the time he had left, but that was the entire point: he had more time. Time to smile. Time to laugh. Time to dance. We spent every second loving the life we had together and the memories we were creating. We went to work some days, while others we worked from home. We continued to work closely with Liam and the rest of the team in L.A. on the upcoming release of the Bower manuscript, something Owen wouldn’t be around to see successfully come into fruition, and I tried not to think about it, instead pouring my thoughts and emotions into crafting my own stories. Much to Owen’s satisfaction, I made an effort to spend at least an hour each day writing. He would take that time to get lost in a book, all the while secretly watching me from above the pages, and I’d smile to myself, secretly watching him, too, stealing glances at the man who owned so much more than my heart.
Days passed and with each new week we lost, I prayed harder and harder for a miracle, yet nothing changed, but that’s the thing about change. The moment before it happens, it feels like any other moment.
It was a Tuesday morning when we got the call from Dr. Marx, Owen’s oncologist. We hadn’t been sure what to expect. Usually, his calls were courtesy calls to check and see how Owen was feeling, but they always ended the same way. They were a heavy, constant reminder that his life clock was ticking and his minutes were slowly dwindling. Everything about this call, though, was different. I sensed it the moment Owen answered the phone.
I stood back, my shoulder pressed against the doorframe of the bathroom for support, watching and listening for any clues as to what information was flowing through the other half of the line as Owen walked aimlessly around his bedroom. He gave nothing away, not at first. It wasn’t until his spine straightened and his head snapped toward me that the uneasiness in my stomach swirled faster. My heart started to beat quicker and my pulse kicked up several notches, spreading an uncomfortable prickly heat over my skin.
“Yeah. Of course. No, I understand. I’ll talk to Elle and I’ll call you back. Okay. Yes. Thank you.”
He slowly pulled his phone from his ear and disconnected the call, the expression on his face completely unreadable. Setting his phone on his nightstand, he dragged his hands through his hair and sat down, his eyes flicking to mine. “Elle, baby, we need to talk.”
Dread crept up my spine as I walked timidly to where he sat on the bed. Sitting down beside him, I swallowed around the sudden knot in my throat, willing the air in the room to somehow work its way past it and fill my lungs. “What’s going on?”
Owen took my hands in his, his gaze cast downward as he smoothed his thumbs over my skin, the muscle on his jaw ticking. “That was Dr. Marx.”
I struggled to keep my tone steady when every part of me was trembling with fear. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. There is, um…” His chest fell on a harsh breath, and he shook his head as if he were trying to gather all the right words. “There’s a clinical trial that has become available, and it just so happens I’m a perfect candidate. He said I fall within all the requirements and that it would involve surgery and several intense and aggressive rounds of chemo, but…”
“But?”
His eyes finally met mine, and the tears lining their surface only made the emotion swirling behind them that much more prominent. “Dr. Marx said there is absolutely no guarantee, but if successful, it could potentially prolong my life by fifteen to twenty years, possibly longer.”
“What?” My breath hitched causing the word to break. Tears fell before I’d even realized they formed, and my heart soared at what he was saying, at the hope spilling from his mouth. “Owen, are you telling me—”
“I’m going to do it, Elle.” He took my face in his hands and kissed me. The kiss was wet and salty and desperate. There was so much desperation in the way his mouth moved against mine, so much hope. “I don’t care what it takes.” He spoke against my lips, holding me tightly to him. “I’ll do anything, anything, for a chance at a future with you.”
Closing the book and setting it beside me, I glanced at Owen, remembering the overwhelming emotion we’d both felt that day and then again, four months later, when we learned he was responding positively to the treatment. It was that same day that we’d found a new reason to count, only this time, we weren’t counting down the days to the end of his life, we were counting every single day he lived.
And that’s exactly what we decided to do…live.
Life happened in a blink, and Owen didn’t want to waste even a second more. As soon as he’d been well enough, he brought me to Callihan’s Pier, and while the setting sun cast its glow over the water, he dropped down on one knee. I’d stood still, my eyes round and my heart slamming against my chest.
“At the very least, there are about a quarter million words in the English language. I want one of them from you. I don’t want you to think about your answer. I just want the first word that enters your mind. Okay?”
I’d nodded slowly, a weakness in my knees making it difficult to stand, and whispered softly, “Okay.”
Reaching into his pocket, he’d pulled out a small blue box, and when he opened it, revealing a beautiful diamond solitaire, I gasped. Our eyes held. “I love you, Elle Callihan, and while I still can’t promise you forever, I want to promise you right now and every single one of my days. I want to give you everything, baby, as long as you’ll let me. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”
“Yes.” There was no hesitation. I fell to my knees, throwing my arms around his neck and kissing him hard as tears of joy and happiness spilled down my cheeks. “Yes, I will marry you. I love you so much.”
We were married three months later in the same spot, surrounded by close friends and family, the ocean and the setting sun as our backdrop, as we promised to love each other through sickness and health until death do us part.
And now here we were...
Looking out at the horizon, I smiled at its beauty. One day in the future he would be watching over me from that very spot, but today…today was not that day. As I turned back toward him, a look passed over his face that was so tender it caused my heart to clench.
He swiped away a few more tears before dropping his hands to my swollen stomach, a smile spreading across his handsome face as he felt our baby kick. Two more months. Two more months and we’d be holding her in our arms. Two more months and I’d be falling in love all over again with Owen Caldwell as I watched him fall in love at first sight with our little girl. My heart burst at the thought and at the intense love I had for him, wondering how it could possibly grow any deeper. It seemed impossible, but possible was Owen’s middle name.
“Guess I didn’t have to write us an alternate ending after all.”
He gazed at me lovingly before pulling me into his lap and wrapping me up in his arms, his lips soft and gentle against my forehead “No. Fate decided to do that for us.”