Page 63 of Hiss and Tell
“She volunteered for this,” I remind her, lifting our joined hands to press a kiss to her knuckles. “Said something about ‘practice for when we have our own chaotic children.’”
Aspen’s expression grows soft and wondering. “It’s hard to believe how much has changed since last year. Thad went from commitment-phobic enforcer to engaged family man who babysits his nephew for a week so we can have a second honeymoon.”
I set down my phone and turn fully toward her, drinking in the sight of her relaxed and glowing in the Mediterranean light. “What’s your favorite change?”
“You mean besides the obvious?” She gestures between us, and I know she’s referring to the complete healing, the bond that lets us feel each other’s emotions, the way we can be intimate without any shadow of fear or shame.
“Besides the obvious.”
She considers this, absently playing with my fingers. “Watching you embrace your full power. Do you realize that three months ago, the mayor of Harmony Glen personally thanked you in the newspaper for ‘transforming children’s literacy across our entire library system’?”
“It wasn’t just me—”
“Sebastian.” She fixes me with that look that means she won’t tolerate self-deprecation. “You went from working quietly behind the scenes to running programming for four libraries. You have seventeen families on a waiting list for your special storytime sessions. Mrs. Randall—Mrs. RANDALL—asked if you’d consider expanding the weekend programming schedule.”
I can’t help but grin at that. “She did seem genuinely apologetic about her previous… opinions.”
“Because you proved that magic makes everything better, not more dangerous.” Aspen lifts my hand to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to my palm. “You’re changing minds and hearts every day.”
The gesture sends warmth spiraling through me, not just physical but emotional—the deep contentment that comes from being completely known and loved. “What about you? Aspenly Yours is booked solid through next spring.”
“Six corporate clients, two small businesses, and that nonprofit that wants me to organize their entire donor management system.” She shakes her head in amazement. “Remember when I was terrified I’d never find stable work?”
“I remember when you thought you had to do everything alone.”
“Turns out accepting help doesn’t make me weak—it makes me stronger.” She shifts in her chair to face me fully, her knees brushing mine. “Speaking of which, did you get confirmation about the December conference?”
“Boston Children’s Literature Association wants me to keynote their winter conference on ‘Magic in Modern Libraries.’” The pride in my voice surprises me. “They’re calling it ‘The Fangborn Method.’”
“The Fangborn Method!” Aspen practically bounces with excitement. “Sebastian, that’s incredible! You’re going to be famous!”
“Notorious, more likely.”
“Beloved,” she corrects, leaning forward to cup my face in her hands. “By children and families who feel safe and welcomed because of what you create.”
Her touch sends awareness dancing along my skin, and through our bond, I feel her own response to our closeness. Even after a year of marriage, the attraction between us burns as bright as ever—maybe brighter, because now it’s completely free.
“Should we order dinner up here?” I suggest, my voice dropping to that intimate register that always makes her pupils dilate.
“Mmm.” Her hands slide down to rest on my chest. “We could. Or we could watch the sunset first and appreciate how perfect this moment is.”
She’s right. The view is spectacular—white buildings cascading down cliff sides toward an impossibly blue sea; the sky turning deeper shades of pink and orange with each passing minute. But I find myself watching her instead, the way the light catches in her hair, the contentment in her expression.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks, settling back against her chair but keeping our hands linked.
“Just… all of it. A little more than a year and a half ago, I was terrified to tell you about the healing ritual. I was sure you’d think I was trying to fix something that wasn’t broken.”
“And now?”
“Now I understand it was never about fixing either of us. It was about choosing to be whole together.” I bring her hand to my chest, over my heart. “Do you ever regret it? The bond, the permanent connection?”
Her answer comes without hesitation. “Never. Do you know what I was thinking about while I was getting dressed?”
I shake my head.
“How earlier, when you were napping, I could feel your contentment through our connection. How peaceful and happy you were, even in sleep. And I realized that I get to feel that everyday—your joy when Milo calls you Poppa, your satisfaction when a library program succeeds, your absolute certainty about our love.”
My throat tightens with emotion. “And I get to feel your fierce pride when you land a new client, your determination when you’re solving problems, the way you light up from the inside when Milo laughs.”
