Page 74 of Never Been Gargoyled
Two weeks to prove that Dazy deserved to keep the home we were building together.
I stared around the conservatory, at the labor of love I'd created for my mate. If we lost the case, would she be able to enjoy this space? Would we have time to make the memories I'd imagined, lazy afternoons reading together, quiet evenings watching the stars through the glass ceiling?
The uncertainty made my chest ache, but I pushed the worry aside. Whatever happened, I wanted Dazy to know how completely she'd changed my world. This room would tell her that, even if I couldn't find the words.
The next morning, I waited until she went outside to work in the front gardens, then spent an hour arrangingthe final details. Fresh flowers in small vases. A bottle of her favorite wine chilling in an ice bucket. The romance novel she'd been reading placed carefully on the cushioned reading nook.
When everything was perfect, I found her kneeling beside a flower bed, her hands dirty and her hair escaping its braid in the way that always made me want to smooth it back into place.
“Dazy.”
She looked up, and the smile that spread across her face sent warmth rushing through my chest. “You look like you're up to something.”
“Would you come with me? There's something I want to show you.”
“More surprises? You're going to spoil me.”
The idea that she might grow tired of my gestures made my wings twitch. “Is that bad?”
Her laugh rang out across the garden. “No, you sweet gargoyle. It's wonderful.”
Sweet again. I was beginning to understand that when Dazy called me sweet, it wasn't diminutive at all. It meant I was precious. Someone she treasured.
I led her inside to the library, stopping before the bookshelf that concealed the hidden door. “Close your eyes.”
“Feydin, what did you do?”
“Trust me.”
She closed her eyes, and I pressed the mechanism that opened the concealed entrance. The door swung open silently, revealing the conservatory beyond.
“You can look now.”
Her eyes opened, and for a moment, she didn't move. Didn't speak. Didn't even breathe, as far as I could tell. She stood frozen in the doorway, staring at the space I'd created for her.
Had I miscalculated? Was it too overwhelming? Women were different from gargoyle females. Perhaps grand gestures weren't appreciated the same way.
“Dazy?” My voice came out rough with worry. “Do you… Is it acceptable?”
She turned to look at me, and I was alarmed to see tears streaming down her cheeks. I'd made her cry. Again. This was becoming a disturbing pattern.
“I'm sorry,” I said quickly. “I can change it. Remove things. Make it less?—”
“Stop.” She pressed her fingertips to my lips, silencing me. “This…”
I remained locked in place, afraid that any movement might make things worse. Her tears continued to fall, and my heart felt like it was being crushed in a press.
“You renovated this for me,” she whispered.
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
“This whole room. Every plant, every detail.” Her voice broke. “The reading nook with the exact cushions in the colors I love the most. The fountain because I mentioned loving the sound of water. Even the specific orchids I stopped to admire at the nursery last week.”
Had she noticed that? I'd thought I'd been subtle when I'd memorized her preferences.
“You've been watching me,” she said. “Learning whatmakes me happy. And then you created a space that's perfect.”
“You're crying,” I pointed out helplessly. “Perfect things shouldn't make you cry.”
