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It was the kind of night Lyra never wanted to end. Timber had evolved from being such a cold-faced, distant mystery, to an open-hearted, jolly man, with a cozy hug. She felt the constant urge to reach out to him and stroke his beard, still in disbelief that she had found someone so profoundly compassionate and committed.
Feeling full and satisfied, Lyra leaned back in her chair and wrapped the blanket tighter around her chest. She wore a cute floral dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. However, the sun had gone down, and frost still lingered in the late winter air.
“Let’s go inside, honey,” she said, shivering slightly. “I’m starting to get cold.”
Wearing a warm wool V-neck, Timber stood and walked around to her side of the table. She thought he was going to pull her chair out for her and offer his hand like the gentleman he seemed to be morphing into.
But instead, he leaned over her, and her eyes darted at him. Then a person emerged from inside the cruise liner, wearing a tuxedo and carrying a shiny wooden instrument.
Her eyes flicked to the musician, who began to play a harmonious, romantic tune. A burst of a glow went off in her stomach, and she knew immediately what was happening.
Timber slowly went to one knee and pulled out a dark red box from his pocket. Lyra’s heart hammered like a drum in her ears.
“I wanted to ask you something,” he said, eyes beginning to gloss over. “Before you get too cold. Because I want to keep you warm forever.”
Timber slowly popped open the box that sat in his palm, and Lyra’s eyes magnetized to the humming ruby-red shine that illuminated the dim evening. A ring cut from her birthstone sat in the box, peering up at her like a star shooting across a clear sky.
Tears ran down her face as she gazed at her beloved. She never imagined that she would end up with a bear shifter, but she wouldn't change it. There wasn’t anything in her mind but the big, bold, glorious future with him.
“Will you?” he murmured.
“Yes!”
She pulled him to her chest as he went to both knees, and they wept with blinding joy. The violinist continued his melodious song, singing the score of their abundant life.
FORTY-FIVE
TIMBER
Timber and Lyra came to the agreement that they didn’t want an extravagant wedding. She loved the idea of having something small but romantic and elegant in its own private way. Timber certainly had the resources to get the planning done fast, so they chose to have it within a week in his own expansive backyard.
Lyra had never been finicky, but she was adamant about certain things she wanted. It was one of the many layers of her that Timber adored peeling away and learning more about, magnificently undressing those beautiful varying traits.
They sat in bed one night after Marigold had finally fallen asleep, staying up till nearly two in the morning discussing specifics. Lyra was elated and spirited as if it was two in the afternoon.
“What about a honeymoon?” she said, wearing only her underwear and a loose T-shirt with various pamphlets between her legs. “I’m assuming that’s still in the cards.”
She spoke in a way that wasn't expectant, more playful and sweeter. Her engagement ring caught the light of the lamp on the bedside table, casting rivers of loving red over the walls in their bedroom as she pushed the hair from her face.
Her eyes sparkled at him, and he forgot what she had said for a second. He stared at her adoringly until she shook the pamphlets at him with feigned impatience.
“Earth to grumpy bear,” she teased.
“Oh, crud, sorry,” he said, rubbing the space between his eyes. “You’re just so captivating. I got lost for a moment.”
Lyra rolled her eyes at him, although she knew better than anyone that he was serious. He had never spoken to a woman like that, but with Lyra, it came naturally. She astounded him every second.
“Okay, mister romantic,” she said, tossing the pamphlets onto his lap. “You tell me, where should we go to celebrate our love?”
Timber raised both hands to her face, stroking her with sensual tenderness. Eventually, the entire point of the conversation was lost as they had begun to kiss, and he smoothly cast her T-shirt off her body. They made love on top of the pamphlets, scrunching and crinkling them below their strong and sweaty bodies.
As much as Timber adored their spontaneity, he wanted to make sure Lyra knew he cared about the wedding. He knew she did, too, in the sense that most humans did. So he booked their honeymoon without prompt, a trip on a private yacht for a week sailing the Alaskan seas.
He also sent her out to get a wedding dress with her old friends and new shifter wife friends. He said there was no price tag that would shock him and let her go, spritely and excitedly, into the quaint town nearby.
When she returned, her cheeks were rosy. Her eyes were as bright as the fresh winter sky.
“I have some desserts for us to try,” she mused at him.
