Page 73 of Positively, Penelope

His finger lingered on her cheek for a second longer, the moon’s glow like their own private spotlight on the stage of this forest meeting.

She searched his face as his hand slipped away, those large eyes measuring him. And then, as if she’d come to some conclusion, she sighed.

“I can’t imagine how much she hurt you. And you’re right, there are things I can’t understand.” The previous hurt and anger dissipated from her expression, replaced by the gentlest look. “I can’t understand how any mother would ever wish to leave a sweetheart like Iris or such a good man like you.” She folded her arms across her chest, her shoulders giving a little shiver. “But I believe in you. Your sister and grandfather believe in you.” Her smile tipped a little, nearly causinghim to pull her close enough to taste those lips. “You’re the only one lagging behind.”

How could her hurt slip away so quickly?

The little pixie tempted him to fall so hard without even trying. She just loved and cared with such utter abandon. It drew his limping heart toward her light despite all attempts to stay away from the certain burn.

“I’m glad you’re here, then, to catch me up. Someone’s needed to for a long time.” He slid his jacket off and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Do forgive me, luv?”

“Well.” She pinched his jacket around her. “Since you saidluv.” Then she studied him a moment longer before turning toward the cottage, her pace slower, easier, beckoning him to follow.

She’d worn some sort of trousers, or... were they jeans? With sunflowers all over them, and a pair of yellow shoes peeked out from beneath the wide legs. Her pale-blue blouse was much too thin for a walk through the forest at dusk in October, which only proved how concerned she’d been about him.

He followed along in silence until they made it to the cottage. The porch lights glowed into the growing dark. Instead of taking the steps inside, Penelope glanced skyward and then lowered herself on the front porch step. With a look up at him, she slid over in invitation.

He smiled as he lowered his head. What had he expected? Not her. For certain. And not such a swift forgiveness. No, Penelope Edgewood was certainly not like his ex-wife at all.

“Unless you’re too cold?”

In answer, he settled down beside her, their shoulders touching.

“Your relationship with your ex-wife couldn’t have been all bad.”

And of course she’d try to find some sunshine in it all, wouldn’t she?

“She brought you Iris. And maybe she helped you realize what you really wanted instead of what you thought you wanted.” She staredup at the sky, her long hair falling down her back. “I’ve been learning that myself too.”

“Have you?” He leaned back on his palms, embracing the moment. The quiet. The ease of being with her.

His throat tightened. He wanted this so badly. This... tenderness.

“Some of what you said about me was right.” She pulled the little silver container she’d evidently carried with her from the house into her lap and opened the lid.

“Only some?” He glanced at her in his periphery and noted her growing smile.

“I think I have gotten the stage and real life confused sometimes. I expect the glitter and magic of make believe so much that, maybe, I don’t always focus where I should.”

“If changing that means you’ll lose the overall pleasure that is you, then I would urge you to keep your head in the clouds.”

“Nice way to slide that compliment in there, Mr.Dashing.” She laughed a quiet, contented sort of laugh and then handed him a tart. “But it’s true. I’ve filled my world with so much drama and consumed so many fairy tales that I’m beginning to realize how it may have warped my expectations a little. That sometimes the simplest things are the sweetest.”

Perhaps Matt hadn’t underestimated Penelope so much as he disbelieved in something so... beautifully authentic. Someone with such a big heart, big enough for him and his little girl? He closed his eyes and refused to contemplate anything more than right here and now.

They ate her rather delicious tarts as the night noises bled into the quiet.

“What a weekend! An argument with each of the Gray boys. I feel like I should receive an award.” She gave a slow shake of her head and took another tart from the container. “Is that some sort of Darling rite of passage or something?”

“You had an argument with Alec?”

“Kind of the same one.” She waved the half-eaten tart as she spoke. “Too young. Know nothing. Et cetera.”

He cringed and took a bite of the tart—strawberry, sugar, and butter melting over his tongue. The arguments against falling in love with her kept shrinking.

“Yours hurt worse, by the way. Just so you know.”

He pressed his fingers into his chest. “Ouch.”

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