He shrugged. “It seemed preferable to disturbing you. And of course I would never enter a lady’s bedchamber while she slept.”
Another piece of the puzzle I’d been subconsciously been assembling about Gabe quietly slid into place—he would rather inconvenience himself than create discomfort for someone else. Whatever his noble intentions, I didn’t want him sleeping on the floor. Unfortunately, the alternatives seemed equally impractical.
He frowned slightly. “Aren’t you upset?”
I tilted my head. “Should I be?” By his widening eyes, the answer was apparentlyyes. Too late I realized I had once again missed my social cue.
Surprise flickered across his face, followed by something sadder, as though my answer had confirmed a suspicion he wasn’t yet ready to voice. “You found a strange man sleeping outside your room.”
I considered that. Objectively it sounded alarming, yet I couldn’t summon the appropriate reaction. I shrugged. “I knew it was you.”
His frown deepened. Somehow that response seemed to concern him even more.
Because Grandmother had a knack for knowing everything, a sharp tapping suddenly penetrated the night. Because she was often unable to get out of bed, we’d developed a system where she rapped the floor with her cane to call me. I went to her doorway, Gabe trailing behind. She beckoned me closer to her bed with a conspiratorial gesture.
I quietly excused myself from Gabe and went in. “Grandmother, you know you should be sleeping?—”
“Nothing cures the ailment of age quite like intrigue involving one’s beloved granddaughter.”
Her eyes sparkled with far too much energy for someone who had spent most of the day resting. Her attention darted past me, through the open doorway, towards Gabe, who had resumedarranging his pillow and blanket along the hallway floor with all the solemn resignation of a man preparing for a lengthy exile.
“Are you truly going to leave him like that?” she whispered. “The poor boy looks as though he's been banished from the kingdom. What a way to treat a customer.”
I sighed. “And what do you propose I do?” I braced myself for what would inevitably be an unwanted suggestion.
Her grin widened. “Share a room, of course.”
I must have looked scandalized, for she chuckled and reached up to pat my cheek.
“That is exactly the sort of emotion I like to see. Perhaps there is hope for you yet.” Her smile turned positively impish. “And there’s no need to look so alarmed—I suggested you share aroom, not a bed. Goodness, Cecelia.”
“As though that makes your suggestion any better.”
She shrugged. “If propriety is your concern, I shall sleep in the room too.”
“Absolutely not.” The protest escaped both Gabe and me simultaneously. I could only imagine how much more magnified the current awkwardness would be with her monitoring our every move.
Grandmother looked between us with a knowing smirk, far too pleased by our unified response. “Well, at least you’re capable of agreeing on something. But if you won’t have me, Nutmeg will accompany you to ensure nothing untoward occurs.”
Heat crept into my cheeks. Judging by the way Gabe suddenly became fascinated by a loose floorboard, he appeared equally mortified. The problem was that despite my immediate rejection, I couldn't think of a better solution. Neither, apparently, could Gabe.
The bond had already proven stronger than either of us anticipated. Separating us by a single hallway had been enoughto keep us both awake for hours. Neither of us appeared eager to repeat the experience, yet neither wished to admit as much aloud.
“Finally you’re in agreement,” Grandmother said. “I was beginning to worry I might be the only practical person in this bakery.”
Before either of us could argue further, she waved a dismissive hand with the authority of someone accustomed to getting exactly what she wanted. “Now stop standing about looking miserable and go to bed.”
When the door closed behind her, silence settled over the hallway once more. Gabe and I exchanged a glance, but neither of us moved. Finally, with the air of a man accepting an unfortunate fate, Gabe turned to face me, shooting a nervous glance towards my bedroom.
We reluctantly obeyed. The magic’s tension that had been sharply stretching between us earlier, and still twinged as we fought the need to stay together, eased the moment he stepped inside my room, only to be replaced by an entirely different kind.
My room was surprisingly spacious for such a small bakery, serving not only as my bedroom but also my map room and workspace. Shelves lined the walls, crowded with journals, rolled maps, sketches of flowers, and curiosities gathered from dozens of locations over the years. Usually the room felt large and comfortably familiar.
Tonight it felt confined and impossibly small, Gabe’s presence seeming to crowd every available space.
Nutmeg floated in after us and immediately settled atop a shelf, looking entirely too pleased with herself. The tiny ember sprite folded her morphed arms and adopted the posture of a very self-important chaperone.
Gabe appeared equally uncomfortable as he hovered uncertainly in the doorway. I glanced around the room beforemotioning towards a narrow daybed resting against the far wall beneath the window, the bed Grandmother used to sleep on when I was younger and experiencing nightmares after my parents’ death. Gabe eased onto the edge with the cautious look of a man trying to occupy as little space as possible. The arrangement was perfectly respectable. Mostly.
