Page 99 of Tattered Edges

The bookstore was doing great. It still was, and would always be, a magical place to find well-loved books—but we featured a few new titles on rotation, and we had a section dedicated to local indie authors, too. Tattered Edges had become what I hoped it could be—a place to gather. We hosted book clubs, book fairs, and signing events every month. We even had enough business that I was able to hire on another employee.

Sylvie was a huge help, especially as I had taken a step back in order to spend some time figuring out how to be a mom.

Tiernan was five weeks old, and it still felt surreal being called a mother, but I loved it.

“Mummy thinks we’d don’t see her watching us, but we do,” Rory hummed teasingly. “What’s that you say? Mummy should go get in the shower? I couldn’t agree more.”

Rory looked over at me and winked. I took the hint, hiding my smile as I turned on my heel to go.

When I got in the shower a couple of minutes later, I thought about the day ahead. Diane and Brady had already been in town for a couple of days. Having my best friend next door for the week was a gift in and of itself.

Since Rory and I moved in together, we’d been renting out his flat for short vacation stays. It was actually quite popular. But when Diane floated the idea of visiting for the holidays, we immediately blocked those dates for our special guests.

I couldn’t put into words how much I was looking forward to the day’s festivities. To have my family and Rory’s together for Tiernan’s first Christmas was going to be amazing. The common space in our flat was a bit smaller than that of Rory’s place, but I didn’t care. I wanted it to be crowded and cozy—like the kind of Christmas dreams were made of.

Confident my baby boy had a full belly and was likely drifting to sleep in his daddy’s arms, I took my time under the water. I shavedandwashed my hair, which I considered greater than a small victory. Still a bit self-conscious about my post-partum body, smooth legs and shiny hair went a long way.

After twenty minutes on my own, I was already longing to sneak a peek at my sweet boy’s face. I couldn’t get enough of him. He was changing and growing so much so fast, I could hardly believe he’d been out in the world for an entire month.

I was halfway dressed—donning an old favorite, red, oversized sweater and a pair of black leggings—when Rory entered the room, his arms empty.

“Is he down?”

“Without even a murmur.”

“Do you mind if I blow dry my hair before you grab a shower?”

“Not so fast,” he insisted. He took hold of my hand and pulled me close. “This might be the only moment I get you to myself all day.”

“You might be right,” I murmured, propping myself against his chest.

He was still as handsome as he always was.

Sexy bed head. Pale, marble-like body—sculpted like a statue, but warm to the touch.

I wasn’t quite the same, but he still looked at me like I was more than enough, and I loved him for it.

“I’ve got a present for you.”

“Oh. You want to do gifts now? I have one for you, too, but it’s downstairs.”

“We’ll worry about what’s under the tree later. I want you to have this one now, before everyone gets here.”

“Okay.”

He reached into his pocket and said, “You and me, we’re all or nothing, yeah?”

My stomach clenched as I dropped my gaze down to his pocket. His hand was still tucked inside. Very few things fit inside of a pocket, and it suddenly occurred to me why he wanted me to have this gift now—when it was just us.

I lifted my eyes to find his once more, and he was still looking at me—his question echoed in his pretty blue eyes.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“How about always and forever instead?”

He took the small box out of his pocket and held it between us.

A wave of astonishment crashed through me as I gaped at him.

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