Chapter 759 Still, I Love You 2
But Diana wasn't satisfied.
Her eyes were red, her voice trembling as she asked again, almost pleading, "Are you married? Is there someone else? Do you still love me?"
This time she was even more stubborn than before, and it broke something in Dwayne's chest.
He remembered the girl she had been when they parted—naïve, untouched by the world. Now she was willing to ask questions so blunt, so raw. The braver she was, the more it hurt him.
Dwayne didn't tease her this time. He held her gaze and answered with quiet conviction, "No, I'm not married. There's no one else. Her leg healed, and she married earlier this year. And yes... I still love you. Very much."
Diana's eyes filled further, her lashes glistening.
Her voice shook. "That doesn't mean I'm just going to be with you. I'm still angry."
Dwayne stepped closer, brushing away the tear at the corner of her eye.
He remembered how she used to sneak up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and calling him "Mr. Larson" in that sweet, teasing tone.
Loving Diana had always felt natural to him.
Back then, he'd known he wasn't good enough, but he'd been selfish enough to start something anyway. Then she was sent abroad and he stayed in Evergreen City. For a year after, he'd even hated her—hated the way she'd left without a word, hated that she had been the one to draw him in first.
But she'd only been twenty.
He had been her first love, her whole youth. How could he blame her?
His voice softened. "Don't cry, okay? We can talk later. Let's finish dinner with the school leaders. The library still needs funding... we've been there before."
Before she could answer, he reached into her bag, pulled out a packet of tissues, and gently wiped her nose.
When he was done, something flickered in his eyes. He was older than her by six years—she was twenty-five now, and he was past thirty. Would she think him too old?
Diana wasn't the same as she used to be. Outwardly she seemed just as bright, but inside there was a new kind of melancholy. All her melancholy traced back to one man—Dwayne.
It wasn't the right place, but he still bent down and pressed a light kiss to her lips.
"We'll talk later."
They left together.
The senior school leaders, perceptive as they were, teased them openly. Dwayne deflected every comment, shielding Diana from the attention. He refused to let her drink, saying she had to drive him home.
Seeing them together, a few leaders—already tipsy—urged them to hurry up and get married. "You're not getting any younger, Dwayne," one joked.
He glanced at Diana and smiled. "Still working on winning her back."
They cheered him on.
Dwayne's smile stayed easy.
They stood side by side, seeing the leaders off. When the cars disappeared down the street, Dwayne turned to her. "I'll take you home."
He'd had more than a few drinks, but Diana said quietly, "Let me drive you back. I'll get a cab afterward."
Before she could step away, he caught her hand. "I'll take a cab and bring you home."
Diana fell silent.
His voice was steady, without a hint of drunkenness. "It's time to pay a visit."
Their past hadn't been accepted, and if he wanted to start again, he needed Oliver's approval. Without it, Diana would still be hurt... still in tears. He couldn't bear to see her cry.
She stared at him for a long moment before asking softly, "Dwayne... what do you mean?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tight.
Then his mouth found hers.
It wasn't deep—just repeated, lingering kisses, as if he could make up for every moment they'd lost over the years.
In his arms, Diana trembled.
They had been together before, but never kissed like this. Back then he'd said she was too young, that she needed more time. Now, it seemed, there was nothing holding him back.
When it was over, he still kept her close, flagging down a taxi.
In the dim, flickering light of the cab, he held her against him. Every time she tried to pull away, feeling overheated, he drew her back. Her cheek rested against his chest, through the thin fabric of his shirt, feeling his heartbeat and the warmth radiating from him.
Eyes closed, he asked in a rough voice, "Has it been hard these past years?"
"No."
Her tone was sharp, almost irritated, and she shifted again. He didn't let go.
He had waited too long to have her back. How could he release her now? He even thought—just for a moment—about making her his tonight. But he pushed it down. He wanted their first time to be on their wedding night.
Thirty minutes later, the taxi pulled up in front of the Windsor Mansion.
Diana told him to go home, but Dwayne refused, insisting on walking her inside. "Your parents deserve an explanation if you're late," he said. She half-joked that her parents might break his legs.
In the end, she agreed.
The early autumn night was still humid, the air thick. In the grass on either side, insects chirped. The sky was scattered with stars, quietly beautiful.
But stepping through the front door, the beauty vanished.
Oliver sat on the sofa, his expression grave, as if he had been waiting for her.
At the sound of footsteps, he looked up.
And saw them—an undeniably striking pair.
His smile was thin, his tone polite but edged with something else. "It's been a while, Mr. Larson."
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