Page 68 of Stolen Vows

“Come with me, sunshine. Romeo, too.”

I stare at Graham’s outstretched hand for a long moment, my heart pounding an erratic rhythm against my ribs. His palm is broad, fingers long and elegant. Strong. Capable.

It’s a hand I’ve come to know over the past two months. A hand that has passed me countless lattes, that has brushed against mine in fleeting touches that linger. A hand that cradled my face so tenderly as he kissed me, that gripped my waist and pulled me flush against the solid wall of his chest.

I know the weight of that hand, the warmth and strength of it. And despite the swirl of confusion and hurt churning in my gut, I still feel the pull toward him. The inexplicable draw that has been there since the first time he walked into my bookstore.

So even though my mind is screaming at me to demand more answers, to push him away and protect myself, my heart whispers a different truth.Trust him.

I stare at his outstretched hand, my pulse thrumming in my ears.

This is a choice.Mychoice. And maybe that’s why my stomach twists. I’m used to clawing for control, for fighting tooth and nail just to keep what’s mine. But Graham, he’sgivingme something. A way forward. A way out.Something.

My fingers curl around Romeo’s leash, my knuckles going white. “This is insane,” I whisper, more to myself than to him. “I should tell you to leave. I should?—”

But I don’t.

My fingers twitch with the force of holding them still. Slowly, I lift my hand and place it in his.

His fingers close around mine, gentle but firm. Reassuring, solid. He pulls me to my feet with an ease that should be frustrating, but instead, it feels grounding.

“Where are we going?” I ask, grabbing my latte. Even in my current situation, I’ll never let a good latte go to waste.

“Home.”

The drive was short,too short for me to process everything that just happened in the last half hour. Not properly at least. I feel like I’m in some kind of lucid dream.

Graham’s house is not what I expected. Though to be fair, I’m not sure what I expected. Something sleek and modern maybe, all sharp angles and monochrome tones to match the intensity that always seems to simmer beneath his surface.

But as he leads me up the front steps, Romeo trotting happily beside us, I take in the warm red brick, the large windows framed by dark shutters, the neatly trimmed hedges lining the walkway. It’s traditional, almost cozy despite its size. Inviting in a way that catches me off guard.

He unlocks the front door and gestures for me to step inside. I hesitate for a brief moment before crossing the threshold, Romeo padding in beside me, his leash looped around my wrist. Clearly, he doesn’t share my reservations.

The interior is just as surprising as the exterior. Warm hardwood floors, plush area rugs, furniture that looks comfortable and lived-in rather than the sterile minimalism I half-expected. There aren’t many personal touches but feels like a home, lived-in.

It feels significant somehow, him bringing me here. Like he doesn’t invite many people here.

Graham closes the door behind us, the click of the latch sounding loud in the quiet house. I turn to face him, my heart still racing with a confusing mix of anticipation and trepidation.

He meets my gaze, his eyes dark and intense as they search mine. “It’s a lot, I know. But I need you to know that I’m serious. About all of it.”

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. “I don’t understand any of this, Graham. But I’ll listen.”

I barely register any details as we step inside. My head is too full, spinning with everything Graham just threw at me. The marriage proposal. The fact that he somehow knows everything about my contract. The certainty in his voice, like this is the simplest solution in the world.

“It’s this way.” Graham’s fingertips press against the small of my back as he leads us through his house. Romeo squirms his way between us, happy to just be here.

I barely register any other details of his house as we climb the two flights of stairs to the top floor.

“I didn’t know they had brownstones like this in Avalon Falls.” They kind of remind me of brownstones, three homes connected to form an entire block’s street facade.

“They call them maisonettes. This one is mine, the one on the right is my brother’s, and we share the one in the middle. Sort of like communal space.”

I hum under my breath. He hasn’t talked much about his family, and even though my mind is spinning with all the marriage and contracts, I want to know more.

“You two must be close to share a house.” I imagine sharing a house with either of my brothers or Florence. I can’t even picture it, that’s how outlandish that idea is.

“You fishing, sunshine?” Graham’s hand is warm and steady as he guides me up the stairs. I try to focus on the sensation, to ground myself in the present moment instead of spiraling into the tangled web of my thoughts.

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