Page 143 of True North

Food.

I run a hand over my right pocket.

Small box. Check.

Fire. I forgot the fireplace.

I drop to a knee and start loading logs into the bed of the hearth. I shove kindling under the hardwood logs and light it up. It smokes and flickers to life as the front door opens, banging against the wall.

Fuck.

She’s early.

“I couldn’t find no?—”

Her mouth gapes. Those gorgeous greens I love scan the candlelit room. After a moment, she closes her mouth, her gaze falling to where I’m kneeling by the fireplace.

“Harry,” she whispers.

“Come here, Louisa May,” I say, not moving off my knee.

She tugs off her long winter coat and places it on the hook on the wall with her hat. The new one she bought in town after losing her old one in the river. It looks good on her, a brown hat. Silver buckle.

Losing that train of thought as she steps in front of me, I take her hands in mine. Her eyes drop to where our hands are laced together.

“The day you blew back into town, Lou, I tried to tell myself this thing between us was just a passin’ feeling. I realized, after a few weeks, I’d told myself that once before. Ten years ago. Yet not one day went past in those ten years that my heart ever thought of someone else. Not a single one.”

Her chin wobbles.

She scrunches her nose up and her fingers move, squeezing tight.

“Ha—”

“No, woman, this is my turn to talk.”

She scoffs a laugh and presses her lips together.

“You came home looking to find yourself, to build back what you thought you’d lost. But darlin’, you never lost a thing. The girl I knew ten years ago has only been outshone by the woman you are today. And this man has no damn idea how to live without you. So, at the risk of bein’ turned down twice... Louisa May Masters, will you marry me?”

I tug the box from my pocket and hold it up to her. Flipping the lid open, I wait for her to say something.

To move.

To stop staring at me like she’s in shock.

She loses a shattered exhale.

My heart cinches in my chest. I clench my jaw shut, bracing for history to repeat itself.

She drops to her knees in front of me, and I lower the box.

“Lou?”

It’s then I realize her breaths are too short. Her body trembles. She chokes through the next ragged inhale. The box drops from my hand, and I fold her into my arms.

“Breathe. Just breathe.”

Her fingers grip my arms so tight, they whiten in the dim candlelight.

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