Page 451 of Once Upon a Fable

When she’d herded us all out here after a tearful reunion with her mother—and a hug that’d both put me on edge and also calmed me—I’d been able to take another proper breath since holding her in my arms.

She said yes.

Holy shit.

I hadn’t planned on saying any of that. I didn’t know where all that stuff came from or why, in that moment, it’d become the most importantthing in the world to me. The only thing I ever wanted. Something I never thought I’d have.

Fuck.

Did I really...propose?

I didn’t get down on one knee. Wasn’t that what those characters did? I didn’t buy her fancy flowers or slay a dragon to make her choose me. Christ, I didn’t even have any money to get her a ring.

Jesus, what had I been thinking?

I know what I was thinking.

Gemma.

I wanted her for myself. Forever.

I wanted the world to know she was mine. To show everyone who might try to take me away again, who might try to claim me, that I was already claimed.

I’d chosen my new master.

I’d chosen her.

It wasmychoice.

My decision to fall and dedicate my entire life to hers.

It was a fucking honor to love her, and I never wanted to have that taken away from me—never wanted to feel the way I did this morning, worrying that I was one screw-up away from destroying everything good between us.

She’s mine.

And God, that knowledge settled the jagged parts of me I couldn’t control. Hopefully, my mind would behave now. She owned me, body and soul, so it made sense that she could help me control my triggers better.

After all, hearing her say yes had granted a strange kind of pride and a wonderful kind of peace.

We were more than just lovers, more than just friends.

We were family.

A true blue, legal and loving family.

Or at least...we will be once we get married.

“You’re doing that weird shit again,” Josh muttered, interrupting my crazy thoughts and dumping me back into the garden.

I blinked. “What weird shit?”

“Having a conversation with yourself.”

“I was talking out loud?”

“Nah.” He tipped the bottle to his lips, taking a drink. “But your eyes were darting around, and you were twitching a lot. It’s eerie.”

I flinched, looking down at my body, hating it for once again revealing my thoughts to a stranger. Gemma had read me easily. Now, her brother did too. Was it a by-product of living alone for so long? I rarely talked in that decade, but my thoughts were never quiet. I supposed those thoughts had become an animation of sorts, using muscles that were no longer used for conversation, puppeteering a body that had no companions.