"I know. But I wanted to say it again." She looked down at her hands. "You didn't have to come here with me. You didn't have to hold me while I cried. But you did, and I…" She stopped, struggling for words.
"Harriet, you don't have to…"
"Let me finish." She looked up, meeting his eyes. "I've spent years pushing people away. Building walls. Convincing myself that I didn't need anyone. And then you came along, and you just…you juststayed. No matter how awful I was. No matter how hard I pushed. You stayed."
"I didn't know how to leave."
"That's…" She laughed, a slightly watery sound. "That's ridiculous, Sebastian."
"It's the truth. I tried to leave. I tried to stop loving you. I couldn't." He shrugged. "So I stayed."
"For seven years."
"For seven years."
Harriet was quiet for a long moment. The moonlight caught the tears still glistening on her lashes.
Then she said: "I love you."
Sebastian's heart stopped.
He must have misheard. He must have misunderstood. There was no way…after everything…that she had actually…
"Say it again," he managed.
"I love you." Her voice was stronger now, more certain.
"I don't know when it started. Maybe at the inn, when you gave up your room. Maybe in the library, when you confessed about the poetry. Maybe I've always loved you and just couldn't admit it." She shook her head.
"But I love you. I love your stubbornness and your wit and the way you look at me like I'm the most precious thing you've ever seen. I love that you stayed. I love that you're here."
Sebastian couldn't speak. His throat had closed up, his eyes were burning, and he was fairly certain that if he tried to say anything, he would embarrass himself completely.
"Sebastian?" Harriet's voice was uncertain now.
"Say something. Please."
He crossed the room in two strides, pulled her to her feet, and kissed her.
It was not a gentle kiss. It was not restrained or careful or polite. It was seven years of hope and fear and desperate longing, finally released. He kissed her like she was air and he was drowning. He kissed her like she was the answer to every question he had ever asked.
When they finally broke apart, both gasping, he pressed his forehead against hers.
"I love you too," he said, his voice cracking.
"I've loved you for seven years. I'll love you for seven more, and seven after that, and every seven after that until I die."
"That's a very long time."
"Not long enough."
Harriet laughed, and it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. "You're ridiculous."
"I know."
"And melodramatic."
"Guilty."
