“Will you forgive me?” he whispered against her temple. “For acting so unfairly?”
She turned her head into his neck, listening to his pulse. “I do forgive you, Alex.”
They stood together for a long moment, Fern’s head tucked into the space between his shoulder and neck, Alex’s lips brushing the top of her head. Fern's heart slowed, as though merely being in her presence was enough to calm both of them, bring them back to center.
“How do we fix this?” Fern pulled back to meet his eyes. “Is there a chance for us?”
“There is. But I need time, Fern,” he said. “I’m still raw. I have to know I can trust you.”
“How long do you have until you need to decide between working for Sylvester or Strathmore?” Fern asked, placing her palm against his jacket.
Alex leaned back to meet her eyes. “Sylvester wants me to start on the first of July, and Strathmore a week later.”
“So we have three weeks,” Fern said, pressing her hand against his heart.
Three weeks in which Alex had to decide how he would spend his life, what path he would take, and whether Fern would be a part of it. It felt like all the time in the world and no time at all.
“Give us those three weeks,” Fern said, feeling a rush of determination flowing through her. “We can start over, with only the truth, no deception, so we can decide if this is worth saving.”
The corner of his lips lifted, showing a hint of his dimple. “I don’t want to start over.”
Her throat closed, the hope that had been slowly growing dying in a wash of cold. “You don’t,” she echoed.
“We can’t start over,” he said, brushing his thumb over her cheek. “We can’t pretend all of this didn’t happen, and we’re not broken.” He pressed his forehead against hers as he released a low laugh. “Do you know what my mother had me do when I built the bookshelf that collapsed in front of the entire neighborhood?”
A small smile pulled at the corner of her lip. “What did she do?”
“She made me rebuild it. I learned from my mistakes and tried until I got it right.” He took her hands and laced his fingers into hers. “I want to stand in the rubble with you and learn from our mistakes until we build something stronger.”
The glimmer of hope turned into a glow, warm and bright. “You’re willing to do that?”
“You’ll remember, I’m an excellent carpenter.”
Fern fought the grin threatening to split her open as joy rushed through her. She fell into his outstretched arms, melting against his chest. For a moment they stood together, reveling in the intense relief flowing through them both.
“Fern,” Alex said, his voice low and husky. “May I kiss you?”
Fern smirked. “I would like that.”
When their lips met, Fern felt as though her heart had finally started beating again and the world was not so bleak. He was giving them a chance, the opportunity to rebuild what had broken. To find what they could share together.
Chapter 36
LateJunewasamagical time in Oxford. The rush and bustle of the academic year had passed and most people associated with the university left town to travel, visit summer homes, or simply enjoy a respite from the hectic pace of the past ten months. The portion of the Thames snaking through Oxford, packed to the gills weeks earlier, was delightfully deserted.
Alex took a belated liking to punting. Once he became accustomed to the mechanics of keeping balance while maneuvering the craft, he found it relaxing, even meditative. The breeze off the river was particularly pleasant on the humid summer day. Alextook off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves to feel the breeze.
“They are not long, the weeping and the laughter,” Fern read from her position on the front of the punt, leaning back on one elbow and holding the book in front of her. “Love and desire and hate: I think they have no portion in us after/ We pass the gate.”
Fern dropped the book and looked at Alex, her eyes narrowed. “It’s awfully full of ennui, don’t you think?”
“Dowson is known for his lack of jollity. Is that all?”
“They are not long, the days of wine and roses: / Out of a misty dream / Our path emerges for a while, then closes /Within a dream.So we are to enjoy the pleasant times we have, for they are short-lived?”
Alex shrugged, momentarily distracted by Fern’s calves. Since they were alone on the water, she had discarded her shoes and stockings in the summer heat and pulled her skirts up to her knees. He cleared his throat. “Life is short and beautiful, so let’s have a picnic.”
Fern grinned and leaned back on the deck of the prow, draping the open book over her eyes to block the sun. One hand dropped off the side of the boat, her fingers creating ripples as they glided through the water. Alex attempted to ignore the way her breasts pushed against the linen of her blouse. It had been a delightful, but chaste, three weeks. Alex insisted on doing everything properly, calling on her surprisingly accommodating father to ask permission to see her and keeping their physical contact limited to holding hands and brief kisses on the cheek. And despite the uncomfortable longing he felt for her, Alex was certain he was acting as a gentleman would.
