He took it carefully and unwrapped it slowly, the way he did everything that mattered. When the paper fell away and he saw the jar he went very still.
It was dark and rich and thick, the most expensive jar the honey vendor at the farmers market carried. Raw wildflower honey, single origin, the kind Kael would never buy for himself because he'd rather spend the money on ingredients for other people. I'd recognized the vendor's label from the day at the market when Kael had held up his canvas bag and told me the honey vendor here had the best stuff in Fernwood.
He'd been right and I’d gone back for it.
He looked at the jar for a long moment, taking it in and then he looked at me.
"You went back to the market," he said quietly.
"You told me that vendor was your favorite," I said. "Back when we ran into each other. Before everything."
He set the jar down on the counter with the same careful deliberateness he used when handling something precious and crossed the kitchen in two steps and kissed me so thoroughly that I forgot for a moment what day it was.
When he pulled back his eyes were warm and bright and the scales glowed gold beneath his skin.
"My turn," he said.
He handed me the package from the counter. It was soft to the touch before I even opened it. I noticed that immediately, my fingers pressing into the wrapping, feeling the give of fabric underneath.
So soft…
I unwrapped it slowly and found that it was a book.
A beautiful unique edition of Pride and Prejudice, its cover bound not in leather or paper but in cardigan material. The t heathered fabric was soft and the color of warm oatmeal, thick and cozy to the touch, with the title embroidered across the front in simple cream thread rather than printed or stamped.
I held it in both hands and did not speak.
Could not speak.
I thought about the library and about sliding this exact story back onto its shelf a thousand times. I’d always thought about Elizabeth Bennet and how she had demanded respect and gotten her Mr. Darcy while I had gotten Colin and my mother's commentary on my hips and a life carefully arranged to require as little from other people as possible.
I thought about a tattered paperback placed in the center of a nest by a man who didn't know why his hands had reached for it. I thought about every morning I had told myself I was just a customer.
"Kael," I said, my voice coming out smaller than I intended.
"You've been shelving that book your whole life," he said simply. "I thought it was time you had a copy that felt like yours."
I set the book down on the counter very carefully and kissed him instead because some things didn't need words.
The Ember & Crumb was warm and busy by mid morning, the way it always was on Valentine's Day but more so today with the particular added energy of people who had read the society pages and were hoping to see for themselves whether the mystery Omega was real.
I’m very real, I thought.
I was sitting in my usual spot at the counter with my new copy of Pride and Prejudice open in front of me and my coffee going slightly cold beside it because I kept forgetting to drink it.
Marco was insufferably smug all day. He didn't say much but he didn't need to. The expression on his face every time he looked between Kael and me communicated everything with complete efficiency.
Mrs. Luna stopped by around noon, unwrapped her scarf, and looked at the bite mark on my neck and then at me with those kind eyes that had never once pressured me about anything.
"Well," she said warmly. "It's about time."
"Mrs. Luna," I said.
"I'm just saying what everyone at the library is thinking." She patted my hand and ordered a cinnamon nest bun and spent twenty minutes telling me about her grandchildren, same as always, and it was the most normal and grounding twenty minutes of the entire week.
The evening wound down slowly the way good things did. Customers thinning out, candles burning low, the bakery settling into that particular quiet I had always loved best about it. I was still at the counter, my book open, not really reading anymore, just existing in the warmth of the space.
I heard Kael moving in the kitchen behind me. The familiar sounds of him, the soft clink of a plate, the unhurried rhythm of someone completely at home in what they were doing.
