The simple exchange—so normal, so unremarkable in its normalcy—nearly brought tears to my eyes. This was what we’d hoped for: not grand gestures or dramatic societal shifts, but small, human (and non-human) connections. A child waving to a new friend. A restaurant making accommodations without fuss. A community beginning to see beyond differences to the individuals beneath.
As we reached my parents’ car, Rion paused, looking back at the festival glittering in the twilight.
“What are you thinking?” I asked softly.
He was silent for a moment, then said, “That I’ve spent so much of my life designing spaces where I could hide. Maybe it’s time to design spaces where all of us can be seen.”
I leaned against his solid warmth, feeling the steady beat of his heart. “I like that idea. A lot.”
“Tomorrow, then?” He looked down at me, hope and vulnerability mingled in his expression.
“Tomorrow,” I agreed, stretching up to press a kiss to his jaw. “And the day after that, and the one after that. One day at a time, building something new.”
“Together,” he added.
“Together,” I echoed, feeling the word settle between us like a promise.
As we drove away from the festival, the lights twinkling behind us like earthbound stars, I knew there would be more challenges ahead. More Danny Pruitts, more awkward questions, more moments of discomfort. The road to acceptance was never straight or simple.
But today had shown us something important: we weren’t walking it alone. We had my parents, Jeremy and his mother, Lydia and her friends, and who knew how many others, taking steps alongside us.
A good beginning, indeed.
EPILOGUE
Two months later…
“There’sa minotaur in a pickup truck blocking the front entrance,” Brenda announced, poking her head into my office where I was finishing my end-of-day paperwork.
I glanced up from the circulation report I’d been double-checking, a smile already spreading across my face. “That would be my ride.”
“Your very punctual ride,” she said, tapping her watch. “It’s five o’clock on the dot.”
“Rion’s never late,” I replied, gathering my things and stuffing them haphazardly into my messenger bag. “It’s one of his many endearing qualities.”
“Along with those shoulders, that voice, and the way he looks at you like you hung the moon?” Brenda’s eyebrows wiggled suggestively.
Heat rushed to my cheeks. One month into officially living together, and I still blushed like a teenager whenever someone mentioned my relationship with Rion. “Stop it.”
“Never. Your happiness is the most interesting thing to happen in this library since we found that colony of bookworms in the ancient mythology section.” She leaned against the doorframe. “Mrs. Wilson’s already out front, by the way. Giving him The Look.”
I groaned, shoving the last of my papers into my bag. “Of course she is.”
“To be fair, she’s upgraded from her ‘you’re a dangerous creature’ look to her ‘I’m watching you, but somewhat less suspiciously’ look.” Brenda mimed the transition between facial expressions, making me snort with laughter despite my annoyance.
“Such progress,” I muttered, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “See you tomorrow?”
“Bright and early. I want to hear how the final move-in went!” She gave me a quick hug. “Still can’t believe you’re shacking up with a minotaur. My love life consists of my cats judging me while I watch baking shows.”
“Get a dog,” I suggested, heading for the door. “More drool but less judgment.”
“Profound wisdom from the woman dating mythology made flesh!”
I made my way through the library, weaving between the last few patrons browsing the stacks. The main floor was peaceful in the late afternoon light streaming through the tall windows. I nevertired of this view—books stretching in every direction, organized chaos contained within solid oak shelving that Rion had recently reinforced for us. Another month, and I’d be leaving for two weeks of vacation—my first real time off since starting here.
Our first vacation together, I thought with a flutter of excitement. We’d been making plans to visit a private beach house on the coast, far from curious eyes but close enough to the ocean for long walks at sunset.
As I pushed through the front doors, the sight that greeted me still made my heart skip a beat. Rion’s huge pickup truck was parked directly in front of the library steps. And leaning against it, arms folded across his broad chest, was Rion himself. He’d dressed well today—no hat, no trench coat, just dark jeans and a button-down shirt rolled up to reveal his forearms. His horns gleamed in the late afternoon sun, recently polished to a high shine.
