Seeker leaned in and kissed Beautiful goodnight, right there in front of the cottage. She would never get over how good that felt—the soft press of his lips, the way the spring air seemed to hush around them. The perfect end to a perfect day.
“I love you,” he said.
Beautiful pursed her lips, already feeling the irritation welling up. “Me too,” she whispered.
His eyes said he wanted more. How many times had she told him? But not everything needed to be said aloud. He needed to learn to feel her heart. She loved him—dearly. He said it with his mouth, but she shouted it with her heart. He was capable of feeling it—no, he did feel it. So why ruin the perfect day?
She knew exactly what came next. She had counted—he’d asked her six times, and six times she’d said yes. Well, maybe not with her mouth. But he should just know. There was no other man in her life but him. And there never would be.
“Beautiful, I want you to be my wife.”
Wife! How sweet that sounded—somehow, she had known it from the very first day. So why did he have to put it into words? Her temper flared. Sometimes he could be a dumb little baby. No—she stopped herself. That was his word now. She was his baby, and he was her strong Odysseus.
She’d spoken to Gracious about this. “Sometimes you need to tell men straight out,” Gracious had said. She couldn’t imagine Steadfast being this impossible. Maybe she’d give it a try—nothing else seemed to work.
She took Seeker’s hand and led him into the cottage, to the hearth, where she sat in front of the fire, and pulled him down beside her.
“Seeker, I love you with all my heart. I will be your wife. I will be with you. Forever.” She sighed. That wasn’t so bad—maybe Gracious hadn’t been completely wrong after all. Still, she couldn’t quite picture Gracious treating Steadfast like this. Seeker looked so happy. And she was so happy, too.
Then the familiar sadness washed over her. How could she make him understand? She’d struggled with this for so long. What he asked for was impossible. Yes, she would always love him. But being his wife was an unreachable dream. But maybe. Just maybe. At least he could share her pain. He always did. He always understood her.
“But Seeker,” she said at last. “You are asking the wrong person. I’ve always known I would marry you—from that first time, when I made you the sandwich.”
You have to win my parents’ hearts. I can’t. No, I won’t marry you without their permission. And that’s impossible, you know.” There. She had said it—aloud, with words.
Seeker laughed. Hadn’t he heard what she’d just said?
“They will love me.”
She gazed deep into his eyes, then sighed and leaned against him, the fire roaring merrily.
Her doubt was gone.
