She looked down before he could see too much.
“When I learned you had kept Juliet’s secret,” he continued, “I was hurt. I will not pretend otherwise. But my anger was not only about the lie. It was fear that I had trusted you and could not survive needing you. If I allowed myself to depend upon you, I would lose you too. So, I did what I have always done when something starts to matter too much.” His eyes held hers, unguarded now. “I tried to put distance between myself and the danger.”
“I was the danger?” she whispered.
His face tightened. “No. You were the happiness.”
The tears spilled then, silent and hot.
Rowan lifted his free hand as though he meant to touch her face, then stopped, waiting. The hesitation hurt her more sweetly than any certainty could have. She leaned into his palm before pride could interfere.
His hand cupped her cheek.
“I saw you fall,” he said, his voice shaking now. “I saw you go white in that corridor, and for one moment I understood exactly what my life would be if you were taken from it. Empty. Unbearable.” His thumb brushed beneath her eye, catching a tear. “I want you, Emmeline. I want this child. I want the life you have been building while I tried to pretend I did not need it. Because I love you.”
Emmeline stared at him, trembling beneath the weight of it.
She had imagined those words, feared them, buried them, told herself she could live without them. And now they were here, rough and imperfect and more precious because they had cost him bravery.
“I love you,” he said again, quieter. “I should have told you before fear made a coward of me.”
A sob almost escaped her, but she held it back long enough to speak. “You forgive me for keeping Juliet’s secret?”
He nodded. “Yes, my love.”
She smiled, “Thank you,” she exhaled. “But… if we are to be together, truly be together, you cannot shut me out again. You cannot punish me with coldness every time loving me frightens you. And I vow that I will always be honest with you. Wholly.”
“I know,” he said at once. “I will fail sometimes, Emmeline. I am not foolish enough to promise I will become an entirely different man by morning. But if you will have me back, I will spend every day learning how not to make you pay for my fear.”
Her heart trembled. For one heartbeat, she held still.
Then she reached for him.
Rowan made a sound low in his throat as she wrapped her arms around his neck, careful of her weakness but desperate all the same. He gathered her against him, one arm around her back, the other cradling her head as though she might vanish if he did not hold her properly.
“I love you,” she whispered against his shoulder.
His breath shuddered. “Say it again.”
She drew back just enough to look at him. His eyes were dark, desperate, no longer hiding. “I love you, Rowan.”
He kissed her.
It was slow, savoring. His mouth pressed to hers as if an apology could be given in touch, as if every tremor of his lips might undo the silence he had placed between them.
Emmeline answered with a soft, broken sound, her fingers sliding into his hair, and the heat that rose inside her was tangled with relief, tenderness, hunger, and the impossible sweetness of being chosen.
When he drew back, his forehead rested against hers.
“I love you,” he said. “Both of you.”
Her hand moved to her stomach, and his followed, covering it gently.
A knock came at the door.
They both froze.
Then Aaron’s voice came through, urgent and entirely incapable of patience. “Can I come in? Aunt Juliet says I must knock, but I already knocked.”
