Page 130 of Wonderstruck

Iwoke to sunlight streaming through the windows, warm and golden, painting the walls of a room that wasn’t mine. The air smelled faintly of pine, mixed with something else—coffee maybe? For a moment, I laid still, my body heavy with sleep, sinking into the mattress, whilst my brain was trying to piece together where I was.

But all it took was Finn shuffling beside me, holdingme tighter as his eyes cracked open, and everything came flooding back to me.

The skating. The lid. The words. The sex.

Everything.

We’d been talking since that moment.

“Beautiful.”

He didn’t stop brushing his thumb across myforehead, coaxing on the sleep I’d only just woken from. “Belle.”

I carried on tracing the lines of his stomach with myfingertip as my head laid above his heartbeat. “Pretty.”

He huffed, and I could tell he was smiling. “Jolie.”

ByGoddid Finn’s voice suit the French accent. I washalf-tempted to get him fluent. It would be easier now he’d finally stopped complaining about pronunciation.

I chewed on my bottom lip, those giddy butterfliestaking flight. “Breathtaking.”

He shuffled above me, subtle waves of whatevermusky cologne he wore last night washing over me as he sat up, leaning against the headboard as a laugh rolled through him. “Is there a reason you’re only testing me oncomplimentary words?”

I tilted my head until our eyes locked, my cheek stillpressed against him. “I just wanted to make sure you knew them, in case you need to compliment… oh, I don’t know, a girl who is very much in love with you and happens to think being complimented in French is rather adorable.”

His smile could have put the sunrise to shame.

Thepad of his thumb was still brushing over my temples as he breathed, “A couper le souffle.”1

I smiled against him. “I’m so proud of you, for notgiving up with this.”

“With French or with us?”

I shrugged. “Both.” Sitting up, I kept my side againsthim, pulling his comforter over my chest to avoid the morning chill. “But the French… they’ll love you in Quebec.” Before I let myself settle against him and dozed off for anotherhour, I perked up, our eyes meeting as my hand found his. “You never told me how the meeting with the Knights scout went.”

That wicked smirk curled up the side of his mouth. “Iwasgoing to tell you, but I had other pressing matters to deal with.”

Damn jersey night.

“But… it was eventful.” I angled my head up to him.“Turns out the rep they sent was my Grandpa’s rival from when they both played for the Knights back in the eighties. He obviously had a grudge to hold onto, and the second he saw me at one of the games, he wanted to meet me.”

My brows knitted. “Just to interrogate you?”

“Pretty much.”

I scoffed. “What an asshole.” His chuckle vibratedthrough me. “What did you do?”

He shrugged casually, but something darker swam inthose eyes. “I put him in his place. When he told me that the Knights were interested but he’d make my life hell trying to play for them, I made him a promise that I was going to work ten times as hard to make that my reality. And that I hoped it pissed him off.”

“Well, now I’m even prouder.” I reached up andplanted a kiss on his mouth, quick and sweet, before gazing up at him. “Did you tell your Grandpa when you were home?”

His laugh rocked my body. “I did, and he was neithersurprised that Charles Laurent wasstillan asshole, or that I stood up for myself.” His arm tightened around me as he sat up, his hand raking through my hair, gently brushing at the tangled curls. “Speaking of home…”

Mystomach dropped.

Please don’t let him ask me about—

“When are we going to talk about that day?”

---