Luna had done it. Not that I’d doubted her, but it was amazing to see. She had to be so excited. Immediately, my throat constricted. I wished I’d been here with her last night as the inn had filled.
She would understand. I hoped.
Turning the corner, I headed toward the kitchen. She had to be in there. My wind rushed forward to confirm that someone was, in fact, in the kitchen. I found myself uninterested in stopping it, uninterested in tamping it down. All my wind and I wanted was to be wrapped up in Luna, especially after the night we’d had.
I hadn’t yet entered the small kitchen when I knew my wind had found her.
“Vincent,” she whispered as the wind tangled in her hair.
My name on her lips was music to my ears. My shoulders fell in relief, releasing tension I hadn’t known I carried. If she said my name like that, I think we’d be alright. I entered with hesitant steps. My mind and body were still at odds about her reaction. She was luxuriating in my wind’s attention. I almost felt bad for it when she noticed I was there as well. She turned, throwing herself into my arms before I could speak.
“I was so worried,” she said. Her gaze held mine, and every fear I’d had walking over here flew from my mind. She was worried about what I’d faced, not what I had done. Her unyielding faith in me was right there in her bright blue eyes. I wasn’t sure what I’d done to deserve it, but I never wanted to let her down. Before I could explain, she raised on tiptoes and pressed her lips to mine.
“I’m sorry I went missing,” I said when she broke the kiss. “I had a rather urgent deadline to meet and didn’t have time to get you a message.”
“Believe it or not, I figured that out,” she said, placing a hand on her hip.
I tilted my head. “Ah, they must have warned Darius about the article?”
She nodded.
“Giving him another reason to tell you I’m not good enough for you?” I asked with a smile.
She gave me an appraising look as if she was indeed confirming I was joking. I let her see the delight on my face—the pure joy at being back here with her.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Well, I’m sure he had some of it right.” I took off my jacket and rolled up my shirt sleeves, readying to help her with the baked goods she was preparing. I took a moment to appreciate her long perusal of my forearms as I did so. The smile on my face when her gaze finally met mine must have said it all.
She swatted me with her dishtowel. “Explain yourself.”
“Only if you’re done making eyes at my forearms.” My ego was on full display. “Maybe it would be better if I kneaded the new batch of dough and you watched?”
Her cheeks pinked, but she bit her lip as if she was considering it. I chuckled as I took over the work at her instruction and proceeded to explain myself. I told her how they were going to print the article anyway. How there was nothing I could do to stop it. “I finally realized why your father mistrusted me so much.”
“Vincent,” she started.
I waved her off. “No, it’s fine. He had every right to. My parents are the ones he’s been fighting on the school development. It’s my parents bribing the governor to stop the development, not yours.” It was almost funny. Almost.
“What did you do?” she asked. It was the perfect response. My wind thrummed in my chest as I realized that no matter what her father said or others assumed, she knew I was capable of standing on my own. She’d expected I would confront my parents when I realized the truth.
I loved this about her.
The thought stopped me in my tracks. Everything about Luna made me strive to be the best version of myself. It was a privilege that she looked at me the way she did—not just her lustful gaze at my forearms but her certainty in my character. I smiled, my realization brimming inside. This wasn’t the moment, but I wanted to tell her soon how she made me feel. Now, I needed to tell her everything about last night; about the feature piece, about her recommendation. I hoped she would be alright with my decision. I’d figure that out in a moment, but I knew she’d appreciate this next part of the story.
“Well, I hid in the closet after talking to my father,” I started. Her lip tilted, and she worked to tamp it back down, clearly unsure where I was going with this. “It’s alright,” I said. “My wind shoved me into a closet before I could leave. While there, I realized the only way I could win was to change the story. Something was going to press that night, and I needed to find a way to ensure it was the right story, not the fabricated one.”
She tilted her head. “You found proof that your parents were paying the governor?”
I nodded. “If there is one thing I can count on my father for, it’s meticulous accounting records. I waited until he left his office, and I ran in, grabbed the pages I needed with proof, then took off to the newspaper office.”
Her hand now covered her mouth like she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to laugh. I had to admit, even I found the story amusing.
“I can’t…picture it, Vincent. It sounds”—she giggled—“so undignified.”
I grinned. She was teasing me. All of her focus was on holding her laugh in. Her shoulders shook, and she failed miserably. I adored every minute of it. She’d had no fear that I’d let the story run as it was about her father. I found myself basking in her faith. My hands were still a mess, sticky with dough, but I stooped to kiss her again. This time, my tongue swept into her mouth a little more thoroughly.
Though covered in flour, her arms wrapped around my waist, and she pulled me close. She groaned when she realized I couldn’t reciprocate with dough on my fingers.