When she reached the altar, Liam didn’t wait. He stepped down to meet her. He didn’t care about the height difference or the audience. He took her face in his hands, his thumbs tracing the faint scars along her jawline.
“I’m sorry it took five years,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I couldn’t come to you until I knew you were safe from her. I couldn’t risk her trying again if she knew I still loved you.”
“I knew,” Clara whispered back. “When you didn’t come to the hospital… I hated you for a month. But then I saw the flowers. The bluebells. No one else knew they were my favorite.”
“I had to send them anonymously,” Liam said. “It was the only way.”
He reached into his pocket again. This time, he didn’t pull out a USB drive. He pulled out a small velvet box. It wasn’t the box he had used during the ceremony with Vanessa. That ring had been a gaudy, ten-carat diamond that Vanessa had picked out herself.
This ring was different. It was vintage. Art Deco. A deep, midnight-blue sapphire surrounded by tiny, conflict-free diamonds.