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“Your brother helped me. He didn’t have any issue with you having the space.”
I tilt my head as I find focus on him, not being able to utter how thoughtful and sweet it is that he considered it.
My toes curl on the rug underfoot, and I peer down, finding the same patterns I crawled across as a baby spread across the hardwood.
“This is insane. Beyond perfect.” I spin in wonder, shaking my head as I notice my mother’s mirror mounted above the fireplace, her picture, our pictures, set proudly on the mantel below. “You thought of everything.”
“Come see this,” he tells me, ushering me to some of the shelves.
There are bookshelves built into every wall, but here, like it’s the heart of the room, the shelves sit deeper.
Lance pulls out a book or a diary, I realise. “The originals and the ones your dad had rebound. I made copies of the originals with your mum’s personal letters and Mason’s all included. So, you can read with cheese and wine and not worry about ruining them.”
I stare at the side of his head as he smiles at the diary in his hands. “There are some incredible stories in here. Ones Mase said you haven’t read and need to. I swear your mum would have been an author worthy of these shelves if she were still here today.” I swallow, my gaze lost to him. “And then this one.” I don’t look at what he’s reaching for. I can’t. I’m too in love with him. “This one is ours.” When his head twists toward me, eyes meeting mine, his smile fades. “Hey.”
I shake my head. “I’m fine.”
“You’re going to cry.”
“I’m just a little overwhelmed.” I take the diary from him, pulling myself together. “What’s this one?”
After a beat, as I flick open the page, I realise. “This one is ours,” he tells me again.
“My letters.”
He leans against the shelves, letting me look. “They’re raw and hard and never should have needed to be written, but they were.” He takes the bound book that’s filled with my letters and places it back on the shelf. His gaze settles back on me, and it feels so permanent, so forever, I can’t help but want to drop to my knees and pray for it. “I’ll finish reading them one day. Probably in here, curled up with you, I hope.”
I stare up at him in awe. “That sounds like something I’d like very much.”
He grins, pulling me to him by the neck. “Yeah?”
I nod. “I can’t believe you did this. It’s nothing like what I’d have managed myself, and it’s beautiful. It’s thoughtful.”
And he knows it.
Thought went into every detail of this room, and it shows.
It’s not just a library filled with books. It’s my dad’s study, my mother’s memory, my haven, and generations of history stuffed between pages of books that I know I’ll read over and over until I no longer can.
“We split it into two sections. Your mum’s classics and yours.” He smirks at me as he leans to reach for a book further down the shelf, picking out one of my smutty books. “Then there’s the sub-genres.”
I listen in wonder as he proudly lists off each one and how he’s arranged the books.
Pushing up onto my tiptoes, I cut him off with a kiss.
He smiles as I pull back. “You’ve not even seen the best bit yet,” he tells me.
“What’s that?” I whisper, hovering close.
Lance steps out from between the shelves and me, making his way around the room to the door.
He clicks the lock into place.
“I was thinking… if we’re going to live with your brother, we’re for sure going to need a place we can get lost in for a little while where no one can hear us.”
“Oh…” I watch with a sly smile as he walks to the shelves in the very corner of the room and reaches to pull out a large book that’s high on the shelf.
I frown as he opens the thick hardcover, and I make my way over. “Wait, is that a box?”
