Page 40 of Surrender
“You know?”
He nodded, his gaze never leaving hers. He slid his hand gently to her waist, fingers curling around her like he couldn’t bear to let go. “If you say it, I’ll say it back.”
She hesitated, her breath catching in her throat. He looked so certain, so open, so heartbreakingly hers in that instant. And for a second, she let herself believe that maybe he did know. Maybe he’d guessed the truth and was giving her an opening. Maybe he could love her anyway.
“I love you, Ruby.”
Her breath hitched. “That’s what you thought I was going to say?”
“Wasn’t it?”
She blinked. Once. Then again. And again. She did. She loved him. Madly. Fully. Maybe it wasn’t what she’d planned to say, but it was the truth.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I do. I love you, Keefe. Maybe it’s crazy, but I do.”
Keefe broke into a grin so wide it nearly undid her. He pulled her on top of him, wrapping both arms around her like he never meant to let go. “It’s fast, but when you know, you know.”
“When you know, you know,” Gwen echoed, laughing into his kiss as it deepened, soft and slow and full of wonder.
But even in the joy, the secret hung between them like a ghost at the edge of the bed. Waiting. Watching. Gwen knew it wouldn’t wait forever.
Later, she lay curled beside him, his bare chest rising and falling beneath her cheek. He felt so good. So real. She closed her eyes, trying to tattoo the moment into her memory—the morning she truly fell in love. Not just because of the way he touched her, or how he kissed her like she was air—but because he saw her. Knew her.
But every last one of those perfect moments was shadowed by a lie.
She slipped from bed, pulled on one of his T-shirts, and walked barefoot into the kitchen.
The garden stretched out before her like something from a dream. Hydrangeas as large as her head bloomed in every shade imaginable. Roses, foxglove, lilies, and other blossoms she didn’t recognize burst from the soil in joyful disarray.
She opened the window, letting in the scent of dew and green things. And then, a solitary magpie landed on the birdfeeder in front of her.
She saluted. “Hello, Mr. Magpie. How’s your wife today?”
Behind her, came Keefe’s amused voice: “Did you just salute that magpie?” he asked on the back of a yawn.
“Yes.”
“Can I ask why?”
“Because that’s what you do. One for sorrow, right? So, you salute and ask after his wife to imply there’s a second nearby. Two for joy.”
“Didn’t know you were so superstitious,” he murmured, kissing her neck.
“I just don’t want anything ruining what we have.”
She meant it. Deep down, she knew the only thing that could ruin this was her.
“Keefe, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you?—"
“And what’s that, my beautiful darling?” he murmured against her skin.
Then the smoke alarm shrieked.
“Shit! The toast! I was trying to make you breakfast in bed!”
Keefe chuckled. “You do know smoke detectors aren’t timers, right?”
“Apparently not!”
