He looked at her, truly looked, and she felt seen—utterly and wholly.
“What he called disgrace, I saw as grace.”
“You came to me when I was ill. You stayed when you didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to,” she whispered, trembling. Because she had. Every time she went to him, it had been a choice. A quiet act of devotion. A whispered hope.
His fingers threaded gently into hers. “Why?”
“Because…” Her throat tightened. “Because I think I loved you before I understood what love meant.”
Sebastian’s breath caught.
He looked at her like the world had just shifted and put itself right.
“You… you love me?”
“I think I’ve been falling in love with you since the night you made that egg-flip.”
He laughed—sharp, disbelieving. She laughed too, giddy and teary, her fear chased outby something brighter.
Then he kissed her.
Not tentative. Not testing. This was a vow.
Her fingers clutched the front of his coat, his arms wrapped around her like a promise. When they parted, their foreheads touched, breaths mingling.
“I nearly lost you,” he murmured.
“But you didn’t.”
He cupped her face in both hands. “I love you.”
“I know,” she whispered, grinning against his mouth. “You just said so. But say it again.”
“I love you,” he repeated, more certain. “Maddie, I love you with everything I am.”
She kissed him again, slower this time. Sweeter. Anchored.
“I love you too.”
They laughed softly, still tangled together.
She brushed her thumb along his cheek. “Are you always this poetic?”
“Only with you.”
She grinned. “I rather like it.”
“I rather love you.”
Her smile wobbled, shimmering with tears. “What happens now?”
Sebastian’s expression softened, turned reverent. “Now, I ask you to be my wife.”
Her breath caught. “I already sort of agreed.”
He didn’t kneel. He didn’t need to.
