“Not at all,” he said, but he was grinning now. “You left,” he reminded her, and while his tone was light, there was still hurt behind it, which nearly felled her.
“You should’ve seen the state he’s been in since then, pacing around, practically haunting the place like that ghost, in that play, the old one,” another voice said from the foot of the bed.
Rebecca glanced up to find Marguarite fiddling with the towels she’d discarded after the bath, looking between them expectantly.
“Hamlet’s father, you mean?” Roger said, sadly releasing her, as he turned to stare at the housekeeper, folding his arms over his chest. “I shall attempt not to get murdered, but thank you for the commentary and for comparing me to a man likely twice my actual age.” He indicated to the door with his chin. “A touch of privacy, however…”
“Right,” the woman said, moving in that direction. “I’ll just be…” But she didn’t finish and instead scurried from the room.
Rebecca turned back to Roger, studying his face once again.
“You’ve been upset,” she whispered, with both guilt and a touch of awe.
“I’ve been devastated,” he told her. “I’ve never had as much joy in my life, never felt more like my actual self, or like the best version of myself, or able to be the best version of myself than when I was with you. Watching you walk out that door and out of our lives, out of my life…”
Her heart soared. That meant he hadn’t changed his mind, hadn’t thought better, hadn’t believed any of the rather eloquent nonsense she’d spouted.
“Good,” she said out loud, before slapping a hand over her mouth.
“Cruel,” he chided, reaching out and stroking her cheek. “Especially considering I just saved your life.”
Rebecca rolled her eyes. “I was cold, wet, and in need of a towel, not surgery.”
“I carried you all the way up here myself,” he reminded her.
“Hurt your back?” she teased.
“Not in the slightest. I’m still fit.” He smiled again, taking her hand in his and leading her back to the chair he’d vacated. Sitting down on it, he pulled her onto his lap. “And I’m still handsome,” he reminded her.
“That you are.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank you, by the way,” she said. “For the ride. I could get used to it, actually.”
The man laughed. “You’re welcome. It’s not every day I get to play handsome prince. Especially—as based on the Purim costumes the ever presumptive Isabelle has made for us and the children—we’re not royal in the slightest, merely a group of pirates. Gilded and bejeweled pirates, but still pirates. But for you, I’d be either,” he said, gazing back at her with such clear love that Rebecca could not imagine how she could have possibly doubted him.
Oy, she’d really been a draikopt, hadn’t she?
She took a deep breath. “Thank you for being right,” she added, as courage flowed through her. After all, if anyone was worth a touch of bravery, it was him. She scooted closer. “For seeing what we could be even when I couldn’t and being brave enough to say it when I could not.” She shook her head. “I should’ve—”
“Shh…” he whispered, reaching out and stroking her cheek. “That’s what partners are for,” he said. “To take turns lifting the other one when they need it.”
Hope once again soared in her heart. “Partners?” she whispered. “So you still want to… ?”
“Marry you?” He raised that brow again. “Forever and always. That won’t change in a hundred and twenty years, and certainly not in a day,” he told her, grasping both of her hands now, his face serious as he gazed into her eyes. “I love you, Rebecca Adler, always. I’m far from perfect, and while I shall always try to do right by you—”
“By us,” she couldn’t help but correct him.
He smiled once more. “By us. I may not always succeed, but I shall do everything in my power to build a life with you where you never have to be anything but yourself.”
“Good. Because I lied before. I want that,” she told him, grasping his hands right back as courage poured through her. “I didn’t realize—I’ve been so scared. So afraid to be more of myself than what I’ve accepted. You’ve made me push those limits—transform, as you said—and I’m better for it. Every day with you is the happiest of my life. And no matter how injured I might become, I know you’re always there to keep me safe, and I promise to do the same. The me that I am with you is the me that I truly am, and I’m just so grateful that you were able to find her.” Her voice cracked as the words, finally the accurate ones, burst through her lips. Her eyes misting, she glanced up at Roger.
“You’re crying,” she whispered, wiping at his cheek with her—well, technically his, or would it now be her—sleeve. “Please don’t cry. I want to make you happy like you’ve made me.”
“Do you love him?” Fannie’s voice called from the doorway.
“I love him a frighteningly large amount,” Rebecca said, unable to stop smiling, even as tears—her own—prickled her cheeks as well. “Ridiculous.”
“What’s ridiculous?” he asked, wiping a tear from her cheek with her thumb.
“That, for starters.” She pointed at the man’s wet eyes. “And me,” she continued. “Most certainly my absurdly huge love for you. It’s absolutely ridiculous. Did I mention that?”
