Until my Last Breath

66

Barcelona, Spain

I hear the low, familiar purr of her car before I even see it. That sleek brown Porsche of hers turns into the driveway like it owns the place-like she owns the place-and I have to wipe my palms against my jeans quickly because for some reason, even though I wasn't nervous two seconds ago, now I feel like I'm standing on a minefield.

I move quickly, almost without thinking, walking toward the car before she even has time to cut the engine fully. I reach the driver's side just as she turns the key and kills the soft rumble. She looks up at me through the window, and it's a punch straight to the chest.

She's stunning.

Not just in that effortless way she always is when she doesn't even realize it-no, this is something different. It's deliberate. It's the soft white set she's wearing, tailored so elegantly it looks like it was made for her, the light fabric hugging her frame in just the right ways, flowing where it's supposed to, cinched at the waist to highlight her delicate shape. Her hair's pulled back, sleek and simple, a few soft strands framing her face, and there's something about how composed she looks-like she just stepped out of a dream-that makes my heart slam against my ribs.

I reach for the door handle like it's instinct, pulling it open gently. She smiles up at me, that same Rita smile that's both warm and somehow untouchable at the same time. I offer her my hand-steady, grounding, trying to act like I'm not two seconds away from losing it completely.

She places her hand in mine, and fuck.
It's not just her appearance-it's what it means.
The way she looks today isn't just to impress anyone. It's for me. For us.
It's the love and effort she poured into every detail of herself before stepping out of her car and into this day with me. She's showing up, fully, openly, fearlessly. She's telling me without words that this matters to her. That I matter to her.

And I'm absolutely hypnotized.

I help her out of the car slowly, almost like she's made of glass. Her hand is small in mine, soft but certain, and for a second, I forget we're standing in my driveway, forget my parents are inside probably watching from the window.

All I can see is her.

"You..." I start, then stop, my voice caught somewhere in my throat. I shake my head, laughing under my breath, trying to get a grip on myself. "You're gonna kill me looking like that."

Her laugh is quiet but real, her cheeks blooming with the softest blush. She squeezes my fingers once before letting go, stepping fully into the driveway.

I'm supposed to be the one leading her inside, introducing her, guiding her into my world, but it feels like I'm the one who needs guiding now.
Like I'm the one lucky enough to be standing next to her.

And it's not just because of how breathtaking she looks.
It's because I can see how much she cares.
How much thought she's put into today.
For me.

And God, I'm so fucking proud to be the one standing beside her.

She links her hand through my arm without hesitation, her fingers brushing lightly against my skin, and I swear I feel that touch all the way to my heart.

"Ready?" I ask her, voice low, meant only for her.

Her eyes meet mine-those bright, fearless eyes-and she smiles.

And with that, we walk up to the door together, side by side.

Like it's exactly where we're meant to be.

I glance sideways at her, catching the way she exhales like she's been holding her breath since pulling into the driveway.

She's breathless.
Utterly, adorably breathless.