AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I just wanted to give you something you would love and use. And you just had surgery, so I wanted to do something special.”
“How did you manage all this in one day?” I turned in a slow circle, mentally cataloging where everything would go and internally squealing. My own little library. Literally my childhood dream come true.
“I measured and drew up the plans weeks ago. Then Henri and I have been building them in the shop at work. We loaded up the pieces this morning and installed them. Did the trim work and everything.”
Hence all the noise.
“This is too much.” I sniffed, fighting back tears.
He waved me off. “Nah. We’re a team. Husband and wife. For a little while, at least. And what my wife wants, my wife gets.”
Then he bit his lip, as if he could read my mind about what his wife wanted. I tried to fight the blush I could already feel creeping up my cheeks, because what I really wanted right now was to throw my arms around my husband’s neck and kiss the shit out of him.
And then get naked and do lots of filthy things with him. I had spent my teenage years dreaming about Remy and, being the excellent observer that I was, I had drawn a few conclusions.
First, he was excellent with his hands. Second, he was attentive and eager—both excellent qualities in a lover—and third, he had excellent stamina, you know, from all the wood chopping and tree climbing. This very scientific analysis had led me to the conclusion that he would be unbelievable in bed, and probably make me scream so loud it would wake up Clive, along with all his forest friends.
It took a long minute after I’d relived my brief fantasy about making out with the world’s kindest and most thoughtful husband to realize that we were standing awkwardly and silently in the middle of my room.
He gave me a lopsided smile. “You want to spend all night arranging your books, huh?”
I laughed. Shit, he knew me well.
“I definitely do.”
“Okay. But no heavy lifting. Tell me where you want them, and I’ll set them up.”
I clapped, almost giddy with the prospect of finally unpacking my books.
Remy unpacked the boxes, insisting I sit in the desk chair he’d brought home from the office a few weeks ago and give orders. I tried to follow directions and take it easy, I swear, but I ended up on the floor, going through each one before he shelved it. My books were my most treasured possessions. We had so little growing up, so what I did possess had always been special. I’d toted them from shitty dorms to shitty apartments over the last ten years, and I would never, ever part with them.
“Where did you get all these?” he asked, carefully arranging the spines of myLord of the Ringstrilogy.
“Remember when the library would have summer book sales?”
He nodded.
“Every year, I’d save every penny I could get my hands on and then go wild, picking up my favorites for twenty-five cents apiece.”
“Some came from your parents at Christmas. And some of these,” I held up a collection of Emily Dickinson poetry, “I found used in bookshops all over the place. Every time I visit a new city, I find a used bookstore to see what treasures I can unearth.” I flipped through the pages of the book, smiling at the inscription on the inside cover. “And I really love it when someone has left notes or an inscription inside. It makes me feel like I’m stepping into another life.”
He took the book from my hand and placed it on the shelf we had designated for poetry. “You know, my wife, you’re kind of adorable.”
I studied a biography of Eleanor Roosevelt to avoid eye contact. Because comments like that made it feel impossible to stay platonically married to this guy. He was taking care of me after surgery, had built a bookshelf for me with his bare hands, and now he was calling me adorable. Thank God I’d just had surgery, or I’d be throwing my panties at him.
Before I could respond with something witty, a book I hadn’t read in years caught my eye. “Hand that to me,” I said, carefully taking the book from him.
The green canvas cover was frayed, and the spine was broken, but I held it close. “My grandmother gave me this. It was right before she died, so maybe third grade? We read it together, and I’ve read it hundreds of times since. I have the whole series here, too, but this one is one of my most special possessions.”
I held it to my chest, taking a moment to remember Grandma May, who had done right by us when my mother could not. We lost her too early, but she had given me so much.
Remy settled on the floor next to me, studying the cover when I set it in my lap. “I’ve never readAnne of Green Gables,” he said. “But Adele loved the series.”
“Anne was one of my childhood heroes. She’s an orphan, kind of like me, and smart and curious and small. It’s always been my dream to go to Prince Edward Island, where her story takes place.”
“You should go. It’s not all that far.”
“I’ve never been to Canada.”
