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“Good,” he said, with feral satisfaction. “Mine. All mine.”
“Oh, stop it.”
“Let’s go tell everybody,” he urged. “Right now.”
“Um, no,” she said, primly. “Not yet. I need to clean up first.”
There was a bathroom attached to the little library, oh joy and rapture. He stood outside the door while Lily put herself back together.
So happy, he was terrified of it. It was too good. It couldn’t be real.
He didn’t take his eyes off the door, and even that wasn’t enough to soothe his nerves. Like she might vanish into the mirror, dissolve into smoke, slip out a ventilator shaft.
But a few minutes later, the door opened, and there she was, dress straightened, make-up refreshed, lips crimsoned. She’d taken the pins from her hair. It rippled and swirled. The fuzz above her crown backlit by the light illuminated it like an angel’s halo. She made his eyes ache.
“My God, you’re beautiful,” he said.
Her lashes swept down, the lips curved up. “Thank you,” she said demurely. “So are you, incidentally.”
“I’m so happy, I think I’m going to faint,” he warned.
“No problem,” she assured him. “I’ll just get one of those ice buckets, and dump it over your head. Since it seems to be our God-given job to provide entertainment for this event.”
His chest shook. “You know, the second we step out there, they’re all going to know,” he said.
“Of course,” she said, steadily. “I am so ready. And by the way?”
“Yeah?” he said.
“I love you, Bruno.” Her smile made his eyes water. He felt his chest puff out. His feet float up off the floor.
They went into the corridor, pausing at the door to the ballroom. They could hear music. The swing band was playing the first dance. The tune was “Stand By Me.” How fucking perfect was that.
He offered her his arm, gallantly. “May I have this dance?”
She went up on her tiptoes, branding him with a lipstick mark.
They shoved the door open, letting in noise and color, the racket and the chatter. The music and the laughter and the chaos.
They stepped out together, into the light.
