Page 22 of Hiss and Tell (Harmony Glen #2)

Chapter Twenty-One

A spen

Friday morning drags by with the sluggish pace of waiting for news that could change everything.

Sebastian’s presentation was on Wednesday, and the mayor promised a decision by Friday.

Two days feel like an eternity when you’re waiting to find out if the person you’re falling for will keep the job that makes him light up with purpose.

Sebastian: Still no word. Jenny says she’ll call the moment she hears anything. Trying not to pace holes in the children’s section.

Me: Want company? I could bring coffee and help you not pace.

Sebastian: Actually… yes. That would be perfect.

Twenty minutes later, I arrive at the library with two coffee cups and find Sebastian exactly where I expected—reorganizing the picture book section with unusual intensity. His snakes mirror his restless energy, shifting between confident postures and anxious coils.

“Any sections left unorganized?” I ask, settling into one of the tiny reading chairs.

“I’ve alphabetized everything twice and color-coordinated the easy readers.” He accepts the coffee gratefully. “Mrs. Randall stopped by an hour ago with her clipboard, taking notes about something. She looked… smug.”

“That’s not necessarily bad. Maybe she’s planning your victory party.”

Sebastian’s snakes droop skeptically, and I have to admit they have a point.

“When does Milo get out of school?”

“Two-thirty. Miss Lee said he can stay for the extended day program if needed, but honestly? I think his being here might be good luck. He’s been asking about the ‘big meeting’ for two days.”

“He understands this is important to you.”

“He understands this is important to us,” I correct, surprising myself with the admission. “He keeps asking if the council people will make you stop being our Sebastian.”

Sebastian’s expression softens. “And what do you tell him?”

“That some things are stronger than council meetings. That the people who matter most already know your worth.”

Before Sebastian can respond, Jenny appears at the edge of the children’s section with a phone in her hand and an expression I can’t read.

“Sebastian? Mayor Harrison would like to speak with you.”

My heart pounds as Sebastian takes the phone. I watch his face carefully, trying to read every micro-expression while his snakes go perfectly still.

“Yes, sir… Thank you… That’s wonderful news… Of course, I’ll be happy to discuss implementation next week.”

When he hangs up, his smile could power the entire library.

“Full funding approved,” he says, his voice slightly awed. “Four to one vote. Mrs. Randall was the only no.”

Relief floods through me so powerfully I have to grip the tiny chair arms. “Sebastian, that’s incredible!”

“The mayor said the community support was unprecedented. That several council members specifically mentioned the professionally done PowerPoint presentation and how the video testimonials changed their understanding of what libraries should provide. This wouldn’t have been possible, Apen, if you hadn’t come to my rescue. ”

Jenny grins from the doorway. “Congratulations. You’ve earned this. Both of you.”

After she leaves, Sebastian and I sit in the quiet children’s section, processing what just happened. His snakes have finally relaxed, several of them actually swaying in what looks like celebration.

“So,” I say eventually. “How do we celebrate?”

“Pizza,” Sebastian says before the question is out of my mouth. “With Milo. At your place, if that’s okay. I want to tell him the news properly.”

An hour later, we’re picking up Milo from Little Dragons. Hearing the excited sounds of children playing outside, we go around to the back. Milo takes one look at us and immediately leaps in the air with fist pumps and races around the playground shouting, “We won! We won! Mr. Sabastion won!”

When we assure Miss Lee that it’s true, her congratulations are almost as enthusiastic.

“How did you know we won?” Sebastian asks as we buckle him into his car seat.

“Mama’s smiling and doing her happy breathing,” Milo explains matter-of-factly. “And your snakes look wiggly instead of worried.”

At home, we spread pizza boxes across my small dining table while Milo provides a detailed recap of his day, complete with finger-painting updates and playground politics.

Sebastian listens with the focused attention that first made Milo adore him, asking follow-up questions that show he genuinely cares about four-year-old concerns.

“Tyler said his parents were at the big meeting,” Milo reports through a mouthful of cheese. “He said his mom called you smart and brave.”

“Tyler’s mom is very kind,” Sebastian replies. “And Tyler’s a lucky boy to have parents who care about making sure all kids have good places to learn.”

“Like you care about me and Mama.”

“Exactly like that.”

Watching them together, I’m struck again by how natural this feels. How Sebastian never talks down to Milo or dismisses his interests. How he genuinely enjoys our four-year-old’s company without patronizing him.

After dinner, while Sebastian and Milo build an elaborate block city on the living room floor, I clean up and let myself feel the full weight of what today means.

The funding approval isn’t just Sebastian’s professional validation—it’s proof that our community sees value in what he does, recognizes that families like ours deserve support and stability.

“Mama, look!” Milo calls. “Mr. Sebastian’s helping me make a library in block city!”

Sure enough, they’ve constructed an impressive building complete with tiny windows and a block sign that reads “BOOKS” in Milo’s careful letters.

“That’s incredible architecture,” I say, settling on the couch to watch.

“Milo’s the chief designer,” Sebastian explains. “I’m just providing structural engineering support.”

“Can we read stories now?” Milo asks once the block library meets his approval. “The celebration kind with magic ?”

“Of course. What would you like to hear?”

Milo considers this with the gravity of someone choosing entertainment for visiting royalty. “The dragon story. But make the dragon happy because we’re celebrating.”

Sebastian settles into the armchair while Milo curls up on his lap, and I claim my usual spot on the couch.

As Sebastian begins weaving a tale about a dragon who discovers that the best treasures are the friends you make along the way, his manifestation magic fills the room with warm, golden light.

The spectral dragon that appears is indeed joyful, swooping and diving playfully through the air.

Milo’s eyes grow heavy as the story winds down, but he fights sleep with the determination of someone who doesn’t want the celebration to end.

“Mr. Sebastian?” he murmurs against Sebastian’s shoulder. “Are you going to keep being our Sebastian now that you won?”

The question catches me off guard with its underlying anxiety. Despite all the security we’ve built, Milo still carries the fear that good things might disappear.

“Always,” Sebastian says without hesitation. “Winning the funding just means I can keep doing the job I love at the place where I met you and your mama. It doesn’t change anything about us.”

“Good,” Milo says, finally allowing his eyes to close. “I like us.”

“I like us, too,” Sebastian whispers.

After I tuck Milo into bed—a process that includes three stories, two glasses of water, and extensive negotiation about leaving his door open—I return to the living room to find Sebastian cleaning up blocks with unusual focus.

“You okay?” I ask, settling beside him on the floor.

“Better than okay. Today feels like I reached a goal I didn’t even know I was aiming for.” He pauses, holding a wooden block shaped like a tower. “Three years ago, I thought success meant keeping my head down, doing my job competently, and hoping nobody complained about my appearance or abilities.”

“And now?”

“Now I realize I was aiming for survival instead of actually living.” He looks at me directly, his sanctuary effect creating an intimate calm around us. “You and Milo changed what success looks like. What happiness looks like. What home feels like.”

The weight of his words settles between us, charged with everything we haven’t quite defined yet. We’re definitely not fake dating anymore, haven’t been since the walk in the park, truth be told. But we also haven’t named what we’re becoming.

“Sebastian—”

“I know this is moving fast,” he says softly. “I know you have every reason to be cautious about relationships, about letting someone new into Milo’s life. But I need you to know that today’s victory wouldn’t have felt complete without you both here to share it.”

His snakes are moving in rapid patterns, and I realize he’s nervous. This confident, magical man who just swayed an entire city council, is nervous about where our relationship stands.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell him, reaching for his hand. “And neither is Milo. We’re invested in this—in you, in us, in whatever this is becoming.”

His smile is soft and relieved and tinged with something deeper that makes my pulse quicken.

“Whatever this is becoming,” he repeats thoughtfully. “I like the sound of that.”

“Good,” I say, leaning closer. “Because I think it’s becoming something pretty wonderful.”

When he kisses me, slow and sweet and full of promise, his sanctuary effect wraps around us like a blessing. This is what happiness feels like, I realize. Not the desperate, clinging hope I’ve carried for so long, but something steady and sure and built on a foundation of affection and trust.

But as the kiss deepens, as his hands slide into my hair and I press closer against his chest, something shifts.

The heat between us builds quickly—too quickly.

His mouth moves to my throat, and I can feel his heartbeat racing against mine.

When his hands find my waist, claiming it completely, his erection presses against me.

Desire floods through me so intensely it’s almost frightening.

“Aspen,” he murmurs against my skin, and the rough desire in his voice makes me arch against him.

That’s when reality crashes back. The terror about what comes next. What I’ll have to tell him. What this could lead to.

I pull back suddenly, my hands on his chest. “We should… Milo might wake up.”

Sebastian’s eyes are dark with desire, but he immediately steps back. “Of course. You’re right.”

The excuse sounds weak even to my ears, but he doesn’t question it. Still, I catch the flicker of confusion in his expression—the sudden shift from heated to distant.

We stand there for a moment in awkward silence, both breathing harder than we should be. The space between us feels charged with unfinished desire and unspoken questions.

“I should probably go,” he says finally, his voice still rough around the edges.

“Yeah,” I whisper, not quite meeting his eyes. “Early day tomorrow.”

He nods, but I can feel him studying my face, trying to understand what just shifted between us. When he finally reaches for his jacket, his movements are careful, controlled—like he’s giving me space to change my mind.

But I can’t. Not yet. Not until I find the courage to tell him everything.

Later, after Sebastian has gone home and I’m getting ready for bed, I look hard at myself in the bathroom mirror. Tomorrow, I think as I brush my teeth; I need to tell Sebastian about my condition.

We’re moving toward real intimacy, real commitment, and he deserves complete honesty. The thought makes my stomach flutter with anxiety, but underneath that fear is something stronger: trust. Trust that whatever we’re building together is strong enough to handle difficult conversations.

Trust that Sebastian is exactly the kind of man who will see this information as something we face together, not something that drives us apart.

Some relationships are worth the risk of complete honesty.

And this one, I’m finally ready to admit, is worth everything.