Page 119 of Cakes for the Grump

He agreed too easily so I rephrase. “Promise not to do anything outside the capacity of the law.”

“No.”

“Luke.”

“She hurt you.”

“I’m better now. And—I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“I won’t.”

“What have you done?”

“Barcelona is a small city. All I’ve done is make sure everyone knows what she is. Janice Dorian won’t be getting hired anywhere else.”

Finally, I manage an easy breath. “Okay. That’s not too bad. It’s good. And it means the next manager of the building might be nicer.”

“That won’t be an issue.”

“Why?”

“I bought the building.”

I just look at him. “That’s why you didn’t come home at all last night.”

“There was paperwork to be done. Renovations start next week. Mr. Albo, Ms. Baghdadi, and Mrs. Milla, and any other tenants will be staying at an upscale hotel until they finish.”

They’ll be safe and taken care of like they deserve to be. He’s done that. I’m trying not to soar but it’s so hard.

“Why?”

“Because I can.” His mouth brushes soft kisses all over my knuckles, the ones that used to be cracked. Then he raises his head and looks at me, his eyes vivid. “Because I hate the guilt you feel. I won’t have you hurting like this, not when I can fix it.”

I want to wrap my arms around him, to cover him in warmth—so I do. “Isn’t that a dangerous promise? I can’t imagine what this building cost. You didn’t have to—at this rate, my problems could bleed you dry.”

“Not an issue, darling.”

“I-I didn’t take you for a masochist.”

“Only by your hands.”

“Such trust you have in me,” I whisper.

“For the record, I rather you have the same in me.” He’s gone entirely serious again. “Next time, come to me. What you wrote in your testimony, when I read it—” He pulls me hard against him, shuddering.

The emotions pouring out of him in those few words swamps me. I cling back. “I’m all right. Don’t worry. I’m alright.”

This great powerful man suffers over my suffering.

I’m in trouble. More than a lot.

Because a certain piece of knowledge pushes into me, impatiently done waiting for me to realize that I’m fairly sure I’ve been falling in love this whole time.

That I don’t want to sleep in any other bed ever again.

How it’s only his arms that feel right around me.

That my life has become full of his presence, our morning routines, the banter, secrets shared in whispers, and the stolen way we look at each other. That I love how he cares for the people in my life, and talks about me to others. How proud I am of his fiery dedication, and how he’s never once let me feel like my dreams are insignificant in comparison.