His hand drifts up my back, slow and absentmindedly. I revel in it like a cat lounging lazily in the sun. I could stay like this all day. Which is probably why the Gods choose this moment for him to open his mouth and say my name in a way that makes me instantly wary. “Rhoswen.”
Lifting my head, I prop my chin on a fist I make on his chest. His eyes are soft, lips pursed. His face is thoughtful in a way that means he’s been turning something over in his mind. “Yes?”
“There’s something I want to ask you.”
There it is. My stomach tightens—not painfully, just enough to register that this matters. “Are we going on an adventure? Were your elephant noises a clue?” I tease.
“Not quite, but not entirely wrong.” He doesn’t rush. Charlie never rushes important things. He slides his thumb along my chin, grounding himself as much as me. “You’ve heard me talk about my extended family.”
“The Freemans, Lockwoods, Marshalls…” I’m about to spout off every branch when he lays a finger against my lips.
“You got it. We have some unusual traditions. As the family’s grown—people celebrating holidays with extended relatives—the family decided not too long ago to celebrate Twelfth Night together.”
I blink. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“Like… the Shakespeare play? Costumes and chaos?”
A corner of his mouth twitches. “The chaos is a certainty. As for the rest, you’ll appreciate it. More like the old tradition of one last gathering before the grateful return to real life.”
“That sounds…enthusiastic and terrifying.”
He chuckles. “Two very valid words for it.” He shifts slightly so we’re more face to face, the blanket slipping down to our waists. His gaze doesn’t leave mine. “I want you to come with me.”
The words land softly but the shot to my heart is anything but that. I can’t speak, not because I don’t want to shout “Yes!” at the top of my lungs but because if I try to open my mouth to speak, I’m going to curl into a ball and sob at the implication of his invitation.
Charlie wants me to meet his family. The people he’s talked about from the day we met—first in fragments and anecdotes then with full stories and recriminations. These are the people who pulled him from the depths of his despair without realizing they made him into the man I fell in love with. They have only the scarcest idea of his history but he’s saved them from theirs.
They’re the men and women who will meet me and decide whether or not I’m good enough for the man I’ve already vowed to love forever. My heart thumps so hard against my ribs, I’m certain he must feel it. “I—” I stutter. “Are you sure?”
His voice is completely certain. “Yes. I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t.”
Meeting family has never been easy for me. Even before I became a professor, I was terrified of parent-teacher conferences. I’m an excellent educator. Give me a lecture hall full of skeptical undergrad students and I’ll hold my own without breaking a sweat.
But a living room full of people who love the man I love?
Can I ask for tequila this early in the new year?
“What does their Twelfth Night look like?” I ask, curious in addition to buying myself a moment to regulate my heart rate.
“Too much food. Too many opinions. Kids running underfoot. Dancing on tables. The usual.”
“Dancing on tables. You?” I tease weakly.
“Not a chance in hell. Usually the women. Well, and Phil,” he corrects himself.
I laugh, then stop as the nerves creep back in.
“And they’ll be okay…with me?” I ask quietly.
His thumb brushes my cheek. “Rhoswen.”
I meet his eyes.
“These are the people who made me want to stay when I wasn’t certain anything could. I’ve watched them learn to dream, panic and run. Breathe when there was barely any hope, believe in nothing, and walk through fire.” His voice lowers. “I want them to meet the woman who convinced me I could do the same.”
The weight of his words steals my breath. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”
