Page 144 of True North

I rub a hand over her back. Whispering sweet nothings to steady her racing heart tapping a quick beat against my chest.

“You’re okay. I got you, and I always will.”

A sob smacks into my neck, and she pushes back a little. Her hands hunt for my face, as if feeling it over for the first time. Exploring, discovering, as she traces the lines, the angles. The shape of me.

Finally, she says, “North.”

“Lou?”

I stop breathing.

My lungs ache.

Then her head dips, but her eyes stay homed to mine. “I didn’t only find myself. I found what I needed. My true north.”

Tears well in her eyes.

She scrunches her face, and they fall.

“Oh, Harry... I ran from you. I crossed the country, stayed away for far too long, searching for what I’ve wanted my whole life. Only to find it’s here all along.” She sobs out a cry. “You were hereall along.”

“Never left, Louisa May.”

It takes a beat for her to steady herself. “Of course you didn’t. North never does. That’s what makes it so damn fine. It doesn’t stray. It stays the course. You... You’re mine, and my compass is never changing.”

Now the tears that have been burning my eyes since she knelt on the floor slip over my face, sliding over my jaw.

“Don’t make me ask you a third time, darlin’. ’Cause I ain’t gonna.”

She chuckles.

Actually laughs at me, her head tilting upward and the tears glistening over her gorgeous face. When she brings it back down, her smile lights a bonfire under my heart. “Yes, I will marry you, Harry.”

“Damn straight, woman.”

I tug her onto my lap. She leans back a little as I slide the diamond ring on her finger. She doesn’t pay it any heed, closing the space instantly, kisses dotting over my jawline. Her hands play with the opening of my shirt.

Louisa May Rawlins.

It has a nice ring to it—pun intended—if you ask this man.

ChapterThirty-Six

LOUISA

SIX MONTHS LATER . . .

Islide the drawer to Rosie’s dresser open. I know what I’m looking for, I only wish she’d been here to help me get ready. To see her life’s work stand at the end of the aisle to wait for the love of his life.

There’s a small white box at the back of the right-hand drawer. The lid is inscribed with the letter L. This one is for me.

Sliding it from the drawer, I flip the lid off.

Another handwritten note sits atop a bundle of items.

First, I open the note.

Louisa,

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