Page 40 of Wood You Marry Me?

“Do you want a ponytail?” he asked. “I can sort of do one.”

I nodded, taking an elastic off my wrist and holding it above my head.

Instead of the suffocation I expected to accompany being cared for, a strange peace settled over me.

Remy was slowly scaling the walls I’d spent my life building. Thick concrete and rebar, forged from years of hardship and disappointment.

Normally, I would push back, launch some kind of emotional grenade to keep him away. It was what I always did when someone got too close.

But not this time. Not with Remy. And not just because I was exhausted and vulnerable. I wanted to let him in. Because, deep down, he was the only one I had ever wanted.

Chapter17

Hazel

“Can I come out now?” I asked when Remy came in with a steaming mug of tea. He had insisted I stay in bed all day after last night’s shower incident and had been waiting on me hand and foot. Dylan had come by with flowers and bingedParks and Recreationwith me for a few hours. The laughs and his company had made for a fairly pleasant afternoon, but I was itching to see what was going on outside these four walls.

Dylan had distracted me with snacks and funny stories about his students, but I got the distinct sense that he and Remy were up to something. Remy set the mug on the nightstand and straightened. “For a few minutes if you want. But you need to rest up.”

I swung my legs over the side of the mattress, wishing I was wearing something cute instead of an old T-shirt and faded track shorts. But hey, I’d just had an organ removed. I’d work on my appearance later.

He’d been cagey all day, ordering me to rest and making an unholy amount of noise on the other side of the closed bedroom door. He claimed he and Henri were working on a small home improvement project, but nail gun and other various power tool sounds belied that sentiment. My curiosity was piqued.

Though this projecthadkept him busy and out of sight, which thankfully meant we had not discussed what happened the previous night.

When we’d slept in the same bed and he’d held me close while I listened to his heartbeat and felt like everything was going to be okay.

This morning, as I floated back to consciousness, I’d assumed it had been a post-surgical dream. But no. He was there, with rumpled hair, squinting at the sunlight filling the room.

It hadn’t been sexual at all. He’d worn kid gloves with me since my surgery. But the act had been so intimate. Especially because I was at my absolute worst.

But it also felt right. Having him close by after such an intense and scary day soothed every nerve. His presence comforted me and blanketed me in safety. Not that I’d ever admit that out loud.

We lived together and occupied this small cabin so seamlessly it felt as though we’d been doing it for far longer than six weeks. So much had changed since the day we’d said our vows in Bangor.

He helped me to my feet, ducking low and studying me, like he was making sure I felt okay. “I did something. It’s sort of a surprise. For you.”

I raised a brow, but he ignored the expression, instead turning and guiding me toward my room. At the closed door, he stopped and gently covered my eyes with his one hand.

“Get ready,” he whispered into my ear, sending shivers down my spine. The door creaked open, and I could hear the flick of the light switch. Then a softsurpriseas he pulled his hand away from my face.

“Oh my God.” I gasped.

I took a careful step forward, trying to understand what I was seeing. My tiny room slash office, which was stuffed to the gills with paperwork and boxes of books and research, had been transformed.

The entire back wall was covered with bookcases. Gorgeous, gleaming solid wood.

I ran my fingers along the shelves, taking in each knot. “I can’t believe it. You made these? For me?”

His smile split his face in half. It wasn’t his signature easygoing Remy smile, the one he pasted on when he was expected to play the role of laid-back joker. No, this was his real, secret smile. The one he rarely showed the world. “Yup. I had some help. It was Henri’s idea to trim everything with crown molding to make it fancy, but it looks good, don’t you think?”

“That’s an understatement. This is unbelievable, Rem. I’ve always wanted floor-to-ceiling bookcases like this.”

“I figured. You cart massive boxes of books with you everywhere you go. They need a place to live. And this is your home. If you’re going to live here and write a kick-ass dissertation in this room, then you need the proper setup.”

He shuffled his feet and studied the floor below him, looking like a proud but bashful little boy. “If you don’t like them, I’ll rip ’em out tomorrow.”

“No!” I protested a little too loudly. “I love them. No one has ever done anything like this for me. Remy, I’m serious. You’ve done so much. I truly can’t thank you enough.” Tears pooled in my eyes. I hated this feeling. Of being in debt, of being needy. It wasn’t who I was. Though it was obvious how happy this reveal made him, and that knowledge eased my discomfort. Remy didn’t have a clue what a huge gesture this was. To him, it was a practicality, but to me, it was so much more.

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