And yet?—
He smiled like dawn when he saw me.
"You'rehome," I whispered.
Home.
What a strange word to say to a man I'd known for only a few weeks. But it felt right. He stepped inside and froze when he saw the table, the children clean and smiling and tumbling toward him.
"Gideon!" Klaus yelled. "Look! Look what we have!"
Axel grabbed his hand.
Hilde showed him her doll and hugged him. I swear I saw tears in his eyes. Klaus pointed at the train. They spoke over each other, a chaotic joy he seemed ready to collapse under. Then all three of them wrapped around his legs like he was Christmas, Easter, and their birthdays combined.
Gideon blinked fast—too fast—and knelt, gathering all three into his arms at once.
"Thank you," I whispered from behind him. "For… all of this. For everything."
He looked up at me, his jaw was tight with emotion, and stood. I don't know what he was going to say, because just then another knock came, and several hotel employees entered, pushing carts with silver-domed plates ahead of them.
"Dinner?" he asked softly.
I nodded.
We sat like a family. We ate like a family. We laughed like a family.
For the first time in years, for the first time since bombs fell and my father disappeared and the world ended, I felt my heart put itself back together. After dessert, the train set called them again, the children pulled Gideon to the floor, and he went—willingly—switching tracks and pretending to crash trains. Klaus giggled hysterically the entire time. Then Hilde talked him into playing with her and her dollhouse, and I thought my heart would melt right there on the spot.
Later that night, the kids took warm baths, yawning through the steam. Hilde fell asleep with the towel still wrapped around her head. Axel didn't make it through pulling on his new pajamas. Klaus clung to Gideon's neck until his eyes finally fluttered closed, and Gideon carried him to bed like he weighed nothing. I tucked them in, one by one, smoothing hair, whispering soft goodnights, letting my heart stretch and ache with all the love inside it.
And every time I looked up… he was there. Gideon, standing in the doorway. Warm. Tall. Safe. Watching me like I was something holy.
My heart pounded like it was trying to break free. Because all day—every moment, every breath—one thought had been circling me like a hawk. One thought I didn't want to face, yet couldn't escape. I wanted him. Not just his help. Not just his kindness. Not just his protection.
Him.
His mouth. His hands. His heat. His steady, unshakeable presence that made the world finally feel like it wasn't ending. After he left this morning… after that kiss… after his hands held my face so gently… something inside me had woken up. I kept trying to ignore it during the fittings, but in moments when the seamstress tugged fabric at my waist or brushed against my skin, something inside me fluttered and tightened. My body felt strange, too warm, oddly sensitive. Like something deep in me had been waiting too long and was suddenly starving.
Was that arousal?
I didn't know.
I'd only ever known fear around men. Fear and desperation and the knowledge that everything could be taken from me at any moment.
But with Gideon?
There was no fear.
Only…want.
And now that the children were finally asleep, their small breaths soft and steady in the dark, I stepped out into the sitting room where Gideon waited. Getting ready to make his bed on the couch. He looked up the moment I entered. His eyes softened like they always did when they fell on me. And the world tilted.
"Hey," he said quietly.
"Hey," I whispered.
He stepped toward me. "Everything okay?"
