Total pages in book: 208
Estimated words: 207002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1035(@200wpm)___ 828(@250wpm)___ 690(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 207002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1035(@200wpm)___ 828(@250wpm)___ 690(@300wpm)
Was that worth the pain?
The fear?
The not knowing when it would end?
Yes, my heart thumped.
Of course, my blood sang.
Always, my bones ached.
Slowly, I ran my knuckles beneath her chin and tipped her mouth to mine.
I kissed her deeply, longingly. I worshipped her with every molecule in my breaking and failing body.
I trusted her.
I trusted that she would put me out of my misery if it came down to it.
She wouldn’t go back on her promise.
She was brave enough to do what needed to be done.
I ought to feel horror at putting that on her but...it only gave me peace. Safety. Freedom.
Freedom to stay and enjoy every moment.
Safety to continue loving her.
Gathering her in a bone-crushing hug, I pressed my mouth to her ear and fed her a vow of my own. “Someday...but not today.”
She shivered in my arms.
I kissed the soft skin behind her ear, nuzzling into her time-whitened hair. Even now, it smelled of salt and ocean. Of waves and eternal sea. “Let’s go on that cruise, canım. Let’s get lost. Let’s explore. Let’s be selfish and say goodbye so it’s just us. Like it’s always been.”
She moaned as I kissed her deep.
No guilt for how others would grieve us when that day came.
No fear for how it would feel to slip from this existence into another.
This was our choice.
The only choice.
Because our heart was one, just like it had always been.
“I love you,” she whispered against my mouth.
“I adore you,” I breathed into her soul.
She teased me and tempted me and repeated a phrase that would become a mantra to us. A prayer of togetherness and forever. “Someday, but not today.”
I pulled away and took her hand, leading her to the speedboat. “Someday...but not today. Today, we live. Today, we love. Today is all that matters.”
Epilogue
*
Nerida
*
(Love in Korean: Salang)
ASLAN LAY SPRAWLED BESIDE ME, SOAKING in the last rays of sunshine.
A sudoku book rested on his trim belly, black-framed reading glasses perched on his nose, and his pen was still stuck in his fingers even though he napped with his salt-and-pepper hair flopping over his forehead and his delectable lips slightly parted.
Four years ago, I’d given a tell-all interview about love, grief, and adversity. Four years since we’d stepped foot on Australian soil, not because it was safer to remain in international waters now that the article and numerous blogs had been published, but because we were living our life the way we wanted to.
Ayla and Harry often visited us with the girls, flying to whatever port we were currently visiting and catching a local helicopter to land on the helipad on the upper deck. Teddy and Eddie regularly video chatted us, and we’d spent Teddy’s birthday with him and Eddie, Honey and Billy in Cuba.
The article that Dylan and Margot completed included what Aslan had done to Ethan, and none of our friends batted an eye. They all knew Aslan had a past. All felt the power running in his veins, all saw his ruthlessness in keeping me safe, but they also knew he was one of the most loyal, trustworthy, and generous people on the planet.
In hindsight, I might not have been quite so honest if I’d known I wouldn’t be wading into the ocean with Aslan on that dawn and swimming to our death like I’d envisioned. But after I’d left Aslan the day before—thanks to a heated argument that he couldn’t take another stroke and that he was done waiting for his heart to finish him—I’d made him promise to wait for me.
To wait to say goodbye.
For me to do the interview I couldn’t cancel, then I would kiss him farewell and watch him vanish beneath the waves, just like he was about to do amongst the shipwreck all those decades ago.
Silly man.
Stupid soulmate.
Of course, I would never let him go anywhere without me.
If he wanted to die, it was a joint activity.
Living through five years of loss had permanently scarred me, and I would never live through that again. The day Aslan Kara passed away was the day I did too with absolutely no regrets and a heart full of gratefulness to have loved him.
But...apart from a few hiccups with his heart and a few doctor visits around the world, he was still him. Still bright-eyed and sharp-witted. We hunted for super foods and took local medicines. We were open to nature as well as science, and I’d begun noting my findings on the latest therapy or longevity secret on my website.
I didn’t know if anyone read my ramblings, but...if some of the information I gathered—thanks to the freedom and money to visit far distant places and travel to hidden oases—helped those who weren’t in such enviable positions to try such things, then I was glad.
Aslan had stayed alive for four more years.
Four wonderful years.