Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
For him to survive such odds, and the two of us to end up here...
This isn't chance.
But God.
The realization hits me with such force that tears spring to my eyes, and I suddenly remember the night Maman was first admitted to the hospital.
It was the last night I allowed myself to speak to God, and I remember kneeling beside her bed while she slept, feeling like I was about to explode from all the anger and bitterness boiling inside of me.
Why do bad things keep happening to us?
Why can't You punish those who deserve to be punished?
Do You really care about us? Do You even have a plan for us?
I had walked away from that hospital room convinced of God's indifference. And in that belief, I'd made choices.
Stealing. Lying. Everything I could think of to survive...and hurt God at the same time.
Because I thought...He had abandoned me.
And that everything about Him was a lie.
And that He never really cared about ordinary people like me.
I'm sorry, God.
But He does.
I know that now.
He had a plan all along. Always had. But I couldn't get past my fear and pain to see this.
And Sylvain...
My husband stiffens beneath me, finally noticing my tears. "What's wrong, Liana?"
I wish I could speak, but I'm crying too hard.
Thank You, God.
Because I see it all now. How all these years, I've been lashing out in my pain and self-pity. Stealing and conning people. Daring God to strike me down without the words. And yet...
Not once did He give up on me. He still made things work together for good. He still made use of my mistakes, reshaping my path until it led me to the man God's chosen to be my husband.
Sylvain.
"Talk to me, Liana." My husband sits up, pulling me with him. "What's wrong?"
I want to tell him how everything's right, but I'm just so overwhelmed that all I can do is cup my beloved's face and say...
"Love me."
His eyes widen.
"Please."
"Are you alright?"
I can only laugh at how seriously he asks this.
Oh, if only he knew!
Knowing that God chose him for me, and me for him...
It's liberating, and I'm feeling so, so fearless and dizzy with joy all at once that I just have to...
Sylvain jerks in surprise when I suddenly straddle him. "What do you think—"
"I love you," I declare, "and I really want you inside of me."
But my husband wouldn't have it, his hands gripping my hips to keep me from lowering myself on him.
"I love you, too—"
Is it just me...
"But now is not—"
...or does the room seems to have started shaking?
Sylvain stops speaking, and when we look into each other's eyes—
Oh no.
We spring into action at the same time while the room continues to shudder as if hit by seizures, Sylvain tossing me his shirt while he grabs his pants from the bottom of the bed.
I'm ready to make a run for it as soon as we emerge from the blanket, but I've only managed to jump off the bed when Sylvain suddenly grabs my wrist, asking, "Do you trust me?"
Seriously?
When an earthquake, a bomb, or God knows what is about to kill us—
He really has to ask that now?
Chapter Fourteen
THE MOMENT THE ROOM started to shake, and Sylvain realized that his wife was once again in danger—
Think, Sauvage!
All of the inconsistencies he had noticed started flooding his mind.
For one thing, the Marchetti he knew...
If that man had wanted either of them dead, it would have already happened.
And the decisions Sylvain had made since finding himself tied up? He had always been a man of logic, and he didn't think even true love could change this. So why had he chosen to claim his wife's innocence while they still weren't out of the woods, both figuratively and literally? It was as if he had lost his mind...or someone had caused to lose it.
Either way...
There has to be something he's missing...
It took every ounce of his self-control to fight against the urge to grab his wife's hand and look for the nearest escape. Even when the world seemed seconds away from splintering apart, Sylvain had a feeling that whatever it was he was looking for...
It was right under his nose...
Something that was obvious but not quite so.
Something that was always there like...
Gargoyles.
Things started clicking into place the moment Sylvain saw the gargoyle-shaped wall clock. The mythical creature, the Marchettis were known to be inordinately fond of. But one thing the Marchettis would never be accused of? A lack of taste, which was the only thing that could account for the garish eyesore currently hanging on the wall.
Sylvain caught his wife's wrist just in time to keep her from dashing off.
"Do you trust me?"
The way she was staring at him...it almost made Sylvain smile.
Almost.
But first—
"I really need you to trust me, ma petite."
Liana was now looking at him like he had lost his mind. "Are you for—"