Page 82 of Perfect Assumption

During his lastvisit when he was here with his family, I didn’t show anyone the second floor. And last night, Ward only saw my grandparents’ old room. Today, I give him the full tour, explaining the work I’ve done on the house since my grandmother passed.

“Why didn’t you do any of it before?” He pauses to admire the soft remodel of the hall bath.

“Grandma really wasn’t into changing much. The house was very much how she and Grandpa fell in love with it. And I couldn’t take that away from her.”

“There’s not a lot of people in the world who would think like that.”

“I’m not a lot of people.”

His eyes meet mine in the mirror. “I know.”

I wrap my arms around myself before sliding my back against the wall. “Don’t be too impressed yet. You haven’t seen the rest of the upstairs. I haven’t been able to bring myself to change the color of either Grandma’s sewing room or Grandpa’s library.”

“Why would you do that?”

I open the door and step back so Ward can precede me up the three short steps. Before he does, he backs me into the door. “I was taught to never step ahead of a lady through a door.”

I bite my lip and lower my eyes.

He tips my chin up. “For the woman you are, I’ll go through any door first as long as I know you’re right behind me. Then I’ll be waiting to take your hand again.” He drops a brief kiss on my lips before jogging up the steps.

Oh. I can’t formulate any words as he bounds up the stairs.

Then I hear, “Holy hell. Like orange much?”

I grin as I run up to Grandma’s sewing room calling out, “Just wait until you see the library.”

* * *

I havemy head on Ward’s leg, my back turned away from his stomach, as he reads to me by the battery-operated candle lights I found in my grandfather’s office. He arranged the candles strategically so he can view the words in the slim volume easily, but they also afford me the ability to study him without much notice as he speaks softly. It’s startling to admit that here, with him, I feel whole for the first time in ten years.

I deliberately dredge up the place where fear has crippled me, pain has flowed through my veins. Instead, I find confusion and anxiety replacing them. They’re not born of what happened to me but what’s happening to me.

“And then monkeys climbed the stage, wielding swords,” Ward whispers excitedly.

I frown. “Monkeys?” I tip the book he’s reading down in case my grandfather, in his last days of lucidity, wrote something odd in the margins.

He bounces his leg. “I was making sure I had a captive audience.”

“Like that’s a problem, I’m sure.”

He shifts the book to the side, holding his place. His eyes hold the secrets to a million questions I’ve never asked because I’ve been too scared. I don’t want to be that way. Not anymore, not with this man. “I don’t read for just anyone, Angel.” Dropping a kiss on my nose, he resumes reading some nineteenth-century battle of clashing swords.

I try to focus on the words he’s speaking, but I can’t. Instead, I think about the ways I’ve changed since I met Ward Burke. Two years ago, I tried to be polite and nice because he was a part of the LLF family. Constant interaction between the two of us eventually wore away the masks we both hid under: his apathy and my indifference.

“And the monkeys twirled into the prince’s arms wearing rainbow-colored tutus encrusted with the gems they fought so valiantly for,” Ward interjects a note of joy in his voice.

I burst out laughing. “Busted.”

He puts the book on the side table before he reaches for my hand. “Want to talk about what’s on your mind? It’s not a good sign when I’m trying to impress a woman on our first overnight date and she’s losing interest.”

My body locks. “Our first overnight date?”

“I know it’s a bit unconventional, us being snowbound and all, but I was trying for candlelight and romance. There’s no one I can think of who deserves it more.” He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses the back gently before laying it on his chest.

I can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath my fingers. I shift so I’m on my knees next to him. From here I could bolt.

Or I could fly.