Page 195 of The Pansy Paradox
I feel my eyes widen and give my head a little shake.
“Well, they are, given the recent activity in the area.” For a moment, his gaze strays from my face to take in the view toward the housing development. “They need a principal field agent to run it. You might say I’ve tossed my hat into the ring.”
And then the man winks at me.
I don’t know if it’s his silly joke or that sexier-than-it-has-a-right-to-be wink, but the dam breaks, and I start to cry.
Everything stops. Our umbrellas halt their frolicking. The air around us stills. Henry looks stricken, and the hat lands on the sidewalk with a plop before rocking gently from side to side.
Then he rushes forward, linen handkerchief at the ready.
“Pansy, Pansy, I’m sorry. If you don’t want me here?—”
“No … no, that’s not…”
He begins to back away, and I grasp his lapels and lock him in place.
“I mean, yes. I want you here.” This close, I can detect a newly acquired bump on his nose. Other than that, the rest of him appears healed and whole. Those dark eyes, as always, are a bit unfathomable. But the grief has faded along with all his bruises.
“I was waiting on the annulment.” His voice is thick, latent regret lingering beneath the surface. “It’s finally made it to the High Council’s docket. I’ve been assured that during the next session?—”
I shake my head, pouring my full self into the gesture. The betrothal, the annulment. None of that matters, not to me. “I don’t care about that.”
“But I do.” With his thumb, he chases away a final tear. “I needed to do this right, for you, for me, for both of us. Do you understand?”
Do I? Oh, yes. Absolutely. He is Henry Darnelle, and he can’t do the most important things in life any other way.
He steps closer, bringing with him a trace of warm vanilla and sunshine. He cups my face, his fingers lingering where my own bruises have faded. A smile lights his face, and from beneath the collar of my shirt, he coaxes the pansy pendant free.
His gaze meets mine, and the gold flecks in his irises positively glow. “May I?”
His whisper is such a soft, inviting, seductive thing that my ability to speak and think vanish once again. But I manage a single, silent word.
Yes.
Then Henry kisses me, and it’s correct and perfect and full of unspoken promises, a slow, lingering caress—as if we have the rest of our lives for these sorts of kisses. No doubt Hey Neighbor is exploding. At least three cell phones are aimed at us, but I don’t care. Henry Darnelle has returned, and I want everyone in King’s End to know.
He breaks the kiss by planting a gentle one on my forehead. His arms gather me closer as if he’s afraid I might be spirited away. His heart pounds against my ear, a match for my own. Something strikes my cheek, and I glance up in time to catch a second tear with my fingertips.
“I thought I lost you.” His words are quiet, almost calm, but beneath them, I taste terror inspired by the gray expanse, the knife, and all that blood. “I thought I lost you forever.”
“You’ll never lose me, Henry Darnelle.”
I take his hand. Together, we gather our umbrellas and head up the porch steps. Together, we step inside and shut the door behind us.
Maybe I say it. Maybe he does. Or maybe we both do. But the words flavor the air with both hope and a contentment I feel all the way down to my toes.
At that moment, I know this without a doubt:
It’s good to be home.
THE END
