Through the Darkness: Of Love and Loss Series Book One

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Twenty minutes later—just long enough for Elyria to change out of her wedding dress and into a gown that Daphne called decadent and Everett agreed looked perfect—he collected her luggage for their honeymoon, and they were in the car, pulling away from number 224.

The entire trip to the hotel passed in anticipatory silence. Both of them were nervous and excited, perhaps even petrified over what lay ahead.

But instead of there being a feeling of awkwardness between them, the atmosphere grew heavy with giddiness and barely contained joy. Everett found it addictive and loathed the idea of breaking it.

Elyria clutched his hand, sitting so close that their legs brushed with each bump in the road. Every few minutes, she would turn to him and smile, but it wasn't just any old smile she cast his way or the false ones used to waylay anxiety. These were the smiles of the soul, and he couldn't help but smile in return.

It was amazing and humbling, this feeling of complete contentment with life. Especially after considering all he'd done wrong throughout the years and the countless times he'd raged at the injustice of watching others get their happy ever after.

Now, he had been given one. And not even his wildest dreams could compare with reality.

After parking the car, he hurried over and helped Elyria out just as an attendant rushed over with a baggage trolley. In a matter of moments, they were inside, waiting for the newly repaired elevator.

Everett's heart pounded in his chest, the excitement in the air between them palpable. The entire ride up to their floor, stepping off the elevator, and then walking to their room—no longer his room—he was giddy like a child staring at a bounty of wrapped presents on Christmas morning. All of which had his name on them.

The baggage attendant made quick work of unloading Elyria's bags in the room, helped along by one or two rattlesnake stares.

Quickly shutting the door and locking the bolt, Everett turned and faced Elyria. She stood frozen, perfectly framed in front of the bank of windows and wingback chairs opposite the queen-sized bed.

Her left hand fidgeted with her dress, while her right had a death grip on her walking stick.

He smiled and slowly approached her. "Seymour's lucky he's just a piece of wood; otherwise, you would have strangled the life out of him by now."

She laughed, the tension easing from her body. "I'm nervous. Are you nervous?"

"Yes," he said softly, taking her by the hand as he stared at her and let everything about the moment sink in.

She was his wife now. From here on out, they got to be together. They no longer had to say goodnight and go to separate corners of the world—or separate beds, for that matter.

"Will you show me around the room?" She asked quietly, her voice trembling. "I think I'll feel more settled once I have a grasp of the layout."

Everett winced, silently chastising himself for not anticipating her request. "Where do you want to start?"

"Here's fine," she whispered.

He gently squeezed her fingers and walked her around, giving her a vivid description of the elegant furnishings surrounding them before leading her to the adjoining bathroom, complete with a porcelain clawfoot tub.

"Everett?" She said softly, "Do you know what I've just realized?"

He turned to her with a smile, "No, what?"

"I don't know what you look like."

His heart thudded in his chest, and he slowly took her walking stick from her to rest it against the wall. Then, he removed his glasses and tucked them in his inner jacket pocket before taking her hands in his. "Would you like me to show you how you showed me?" He whispered.