“Come. You haven’t seen the bedroom.”
She let him lead her.
The suite was inviting, with window seats and a killer view. The bed was against one wall, with white linens and pillows likeclouds. A large fur throw was casually draped across the end of the bed like someone had thought,they’ll want that later.
A hearth was already crackling, and on a small round table between two leather armchairs, a miniature chessboard sat waiting.
Gage moved toward that spot.
After a few moments, she realized his intention. He meant for them to play.
“…Really?”
“Really,” Gage said. “Sit.” He was already removing his coat. His tie. Rolling his sleeves up.
She picked up a couple of pieces. They were small and hand-carved. Cool to the touch, and heavier than they appeared.
“Just so we’re clear,” she said wryly, sliding into the opposite chair, “this wasn’t what I thought we were going to do in the bedroom on our anniversary.”
“There’ll be plenty of that, too.”
She pushed her sleeves up. “Don’t be disappointed if I’m not a good match.”
“I’ll teach you.”
They played.
Gage explained without performing. No hovering; minimal correction. Just calm, methodical guidance as she learned the board.
She might have improved faster if she weren’t losing focus because of his hands. The way he nudged a piece forward with a fingertip. His voice saying low, “your move,” or, “try that again.”
They played again. And again. The board reset. Her pulse didn’t.
It wasn’t a game she’d expected to enjoy. But with him, she did. Thinking ahead, trying to predict his choices. Trying to match him.
Time blurred. The room warmed. The outside world dimmed into night.
The game narrowed. Her white queen stood exposed. She saw it too late.
Check. Not mate. He was holding back.
“You’re letting me win,” she accused.
“I’m not finished.”
He moved his knight. It was over.
Gage reached for his glass of water, taking a sip.
Bea leaned back slightly, eyes drifting over the board again. She picked up the rook. Inspected it closely, marveling at the craftsmanship.
“They’re beautiful,” she said. “Did you have it made?”
He pointed to one side. She tilted her head to read the inscription.
1 year G & B.
Her throat tightened. She met his eyes. And in hers, something soft and wordless bloomed—gratitude, affection, understanding.
