Page 213 of Librarian

I shake my head. “Why would Inotwant to? The worst that can happen is that I get to see you enjoying yourself. If I’m lucky, I might even pick up a few ideas.”

The wink I shoot her has her cheeks creasing in a barely suppressed smile, and I hold up the book. “This one, then?”

She responds by lowering herself so she’s lying on her front, her body bisecting the piled-up bedding as she rests her chin on the backs of her interlinked hands. “Yes, please.”

I copy her, only to freeze when an unmistakable blue-green glow bathes the books in front of us.

Ah. The sky doesn’t hate me, after all.

She doesn’t notice at first, which gives me time to glance at the ribbons of light just starting to dance in the sky, then look back to catch her expression.

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” she breathes.

It’s disgustingly cliché, but all I can think is, ‘yes, you are.’

“I’m surprised you didn’t ever just leave the door open somewhere like this before we came along,” I tell her, getting comfortable.

She doesn’t even glance at the book, just drifts so she’s hovering on her back, staring up at the sky through the doorway.

“I want to read with you, but I don’t want to stop watching,” she confesses quietly.

My lips quirk, and I guide the wisplight closer to the book so that it won’t interfere with her view.

Flipping open the cover, I turn to the first page and clear my throat. “Chapter one…”

Her eyes flick to me, but I keep reading. Eventually, her focus shifts back to the sky, and she sighs happily.

The book isn’t bad. I’m glad she picked this and not the one with triplet billionaires falling for a barista. Somehow love blossoming in the Norse underworld seemed less fanciful than three Fortune 500 CEOs deigning to notice someone on minimum wage.

I make it through three chapters before she rolls onto her side and looks at me. Her mouth opens, then closes, brows furrowing like she wants to say something but can’t decide how to say it.

“What?”

“You’re pampering me.”

Now it’s my turn to frown. “Yes?”

“I thought dates were about getting to know each other.”

My head is shaking before she finishes speaking. “This isn’t a date.” Her face starts to fall, and I hurriedly add, “Darling, we walked through hell together. I’m not doing something as trivial as ‘dating’ the woman who sat with me through the worst loss of my life. I’m marrying her.”

Her jaw drops, the northern lights forgotten as she blinks at me like I’ve started speaking a foreign language.

Eventually, she stammers, “That’s not a proposal.”

“No. It isn’t. I have something more spectacular planned for that.”

Her eye roll is exasperated. “Lambert already proposed.” Her fingers stroke over the large oval stone on her other hand, as if checking it’s still there.

I sigh. “Yes, I’m still shocked that he managed to find something more sophisticated than a Haribo ring.”

Her uncomprehending look reassures me she doesn’t understand the reference, and I snort.

“He made it clear to all of us that your marrying him wasn’t an exclusive arrangement. Any other excuses?”

She shifts back, the motion so slight I would’ve missed it if I wasn’t so attuned to her. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

I chuckle under my breath. “Well, you have time. Like I said, thisisn’ta proposal. This is me fixing something.” My throat thickens, and I have to pause to clear it. “You told me you loved me, and I didn’t say it back. It wasn’t because I don’t feel the same, but I wanted the moment to be special. I’ve been kicking myself for it ever since.”