Let them talk. Let the ton erupt.
She’d said yes.
Epilogue
Sunlight filtered through the curtains in warm, drowsy stripes, golden and forgiving, the kind that softened everything it touched. The floral fabric hung in gentle folds, catching the breeze now and then, stirring like breath. Kitty lay still beneath the quilt, half-wrapped in the weight of sleep and the quiet hum of something deeper. Peace, maybe. Or joy. She wasn’t entirely sure she knew the difference anymore.
Norman was warm beside her, his arm slung around her waist, his body pressed along the length of her back. She could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the slow rhythm of his breath at the base of her neck. It was an anchor. A tether to something solid and good.
She kept her eyes closed at first, not out of fatigue but out of reverence—for the stillness, for the simple truth of him beside her. She wanted to hold onto this moment, to stay suspended in it. Not chasing, not fleeing. Just being.
When she finally opened her eyes, the room greeted her gently. Pale morning light spilled across the hardwood floors, catching on dust motes in the air. The bedside table was cluttered with things she now thought of as theirs—his pocket watch, her book, a half-empty glass of water. It looked lived-in. Rooted.
Real.
She turned slightly, just enough to look at him without disturbing the way they fit together. Norman’s face was slack with sleep, mouth slightly parted. His hair was mussed and boyish, falling across his forehead in a way that made her ache a little. His lashes were ridiculously long—unfair, really—and his jaw shadowed with stubble. He looked unguarded, vulnerable even, and still somehow entirely himself.
She reached out and traced the edge of his jaw with the back of her fingers, featherlight. His skin was warm. Real. Solid.Hers.
His eyes opened slowly, and his mouth curved into a sleepy smile.
“Morning,” he murmured, voice rough and low from sleep. He leaned in and kissed her shoulder lazily, like he was still dreaming. “You’re awake.”
“Just barely,” she whispered, lips brushing against his brow.
He hummed and buried his face in the curve of her neck, breathing her in. His arm tightened around her waist, and Kittyfelt herself melt into the contact, her body answering his without hesitation. They fitted like this.
“I had a dream about you,” he murmured into her skin.
“Oh?” Her voice was light, teasing.
“You were wearing your wedding dress.”
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Another wedding? I don’t think I’d be able to endure the planning and preparation again.”
He chuckled, a low sound that vibrated through her. “I think so.” His eyes found hers then, blue and clear despite the sleep. “I’m still not convinced I’m awake.”
She kissed the corner of his mouth. “You are.”
He caught her then, deepening the kiss with a kind of hunger that surprised her even now. It was slow but insistent, the kind of kiss that unraveled her thoughts and made her press closer without thinking. His hand slid into her hair, the other tracing the curve of her spine. She answered him without hesitation, her fingers finding the muscles of his back, pulling him closer.
They had kissed like this before—many times now—but something about this morning made it feel different. No urgency. No fear. Just the comfort of knowing she didn’t have to let him go.
When they finally parted, breathless and quiet, he rested his forehead against hers.
“I want to take you away,” he said.
She blinked at him, startled. “What?”
“To Europe. Or somewhere warm. Somewhere where we can simply enjoy each other. No responsibilities, no interruptions.” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear with the kind of tenderness that made her heart stutter. “Just you and me, disappearing for a little while.”
The idea was dizzying. A younger version of herself—restless, constantly on the run—might’ve leapt at the offer. But Kitty wasn’t running anymore. She wasn’t chasing, either. She was here. Settled. Grounded in something she’d never thought she could have.
“I love the idea,” she said quietly, searching his face. “But… I think I’m still getting used to this.”
Her fingers brushed over the edge of the blanket, tracing nothing. “Having a home. Waking up in the same bed. Knowing I belong here.”
Norman watched her carefully, and for a moment, she wondered if he’d be disappointed. But instead, he just nodded. Slow. Certain.
