I glanced at him, but his expression was carefully neutral, focused on the screen.
“She’ll forgive him,” I repeated. “That’s how these stories work. The hero makes mistakes, but he proves he’s worthy of forgiveness in the end.”
“And if he can’t? If his mistakes are too big?”
“Then he grovels. A lot. Until she believes he’s sorry.” I nudged him with my elbow. “Why? Got a secret you’re planning to spring on me?”
He didn’t laugh or joke back. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
“Would you?” he asked quietly. “Forgive someone who kept things from you? If they had reasons?”
The question hung between us. There was a weight underneath it, a heaviness I didn’t understand but could feel pressing against my chest.
“Depends on the secret,” I said finally. “And the reason.”
He was quiet for a long moment. Then he kissed the top of my head and said, “Watch your movie, little menace.”
I let it go. For now. The movie ended happily, as promised. The hero groveled, the heroine forgave, they kissed.
“See?” I said. “Happy ending.”
“Happy ending,” Caelan agreed, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Don’t you have work to do?” I asked, changing the subject. “Or somewhere to be? You’ve been here all day.”
“No.”
“You’ll get sick if you keep hovering.”
“I don’t get sick.”
“That’s not how immune systems work... you know what, we’ve had this conversation.”
“I’m not leaving.” He pulled me closer, chin resting on top of my head. “You need someone to bring you soup and watch terrible movies with you.”
“The movie wasn’t terrible!”
“It was predictable.”
“You cried at the end.”
“I did not.”
“Your eyes were wet.”
“Allergies.”
“You said you don’t get sick.”
“Allergies aren’t sickness.”
We bickered for another ten minutes, the easy joy of it catching me off guard. No one had ever done this for me.
“Stay,” I said finally, when the argument fizzled out. “Not because I need you to. Because I want you to.”
His arms tightened around me.
“Always,” he said. “I’ll always stay.”
