Hallie
TWO YEARS LATER
The smell of fresh varnish mingles with the familiar scent of old books and paper. I stand in the library's back corner, staring at what Caius has built, and my throat goes tight with emotion.
"You hate it." His voice comes from behind me, uncertain in a way that makes my heart squeeze. "I knew the curtains were too much. I can take them down?—"
"Don't you dare." I spin around, blinking back tears that threaten to ruin my mascara. "It's perfect. Absolutely perfect."
And it is. The reading nook he's spent the last three months building sits tucked between the romance shelves, a cozy alcove with built-in benches covered in deep purple cushions.
Sheer curtains can be drawn for privacy, and there's even a small shelf for drinks.
Fairy lights strung overhead cast everything in a warm glow.
"You sure?" He shifts his weight, grease permanently embedded under his nails despite scrubbing. He's wearing his good jeans today, the ones without holes, and a button-up shirt that makes his shoulders look impossibly broad. "Because I can still adjust the?—"
I kiss him to shut him up, rising on my toes to reach his mouth. He tastes like coffee and the mint gum he's been nervously chewing all morning.
"Mrs. O'Connor." His hands find my hips, steadying me even as his lips curve against mine. "We're in public."
"Your public library that you just donated an entire reading nook to." I pull back just enough to meet his eyes, those impossibly blue eyes that still make my stomach flip. "I think I'm allowed to kiss my husband."
The word still sends a thrill through me. Husband. Mine.
"Fair point." He grins that crooked grin that's been making me weak since I was sixteen. "Though technically, I built it for you. The library just gets to benefit."
A cry erupts from the baby carrier sitting on the circulation desk. Perfect timing, as always.
"Someone's awake." I move toward our daughter, but Caius beats me there, already scooping up the carrier with the practiced ease of a man who's changed more diapers than he ever imagined possible.
"Hey, Rosie girl." His voice drops into that soft tone he reserves for her, the one that makes me fall in love with him all over again. "You trying to interrupt Daddy's big moment?"
Rosie, four months old and already ruling our entire world, blinks up at him with eyes the exact shade of his. Her tiny fist shoves into her mouth, drool immediately soaking her chin.
"She's hungry." I reach for the diaper bag, already mentally calculating if we have time to feed her before the dedication ceremony starts. "I should probably?—"
The library door crashes open with enough force to rattle the windows.
"Uncle Ryan!" A blur of motion in denim overalls barrels past the front desk, nearly upending the book return cart.
My brother appears in the doorway, looking harried and slightly panicked, one hand clutching the strap of a backpack shaped like a dinosaur. "Liam, buddy, we talked about using our inside voice?—"
Too late. Liam, Ryan's three-year-old son and our godchild, has already launched himself at Caius's legs with the enthusiasm of a golden retriever.
"Uncle Caius, Uncle Caius, you gotta see what I drawed!" He waves a crumpled piece of paper that looks like it's been through a war zone. "It's a truck, see? Like yours, but with rockets!"
Caius somehow manages to crouch down without jostling Rosie, examining the masterpiece with complete seriousness. "Rockets, huh? That's some serious horsepower."
"What's horsepower?"
"It's—" Caius catches my eye, grinning. "Ask your dad. He'll explain."
"Ryan doesn't know anything about cars," Liam announces with the brutal honesty of a toddler. "He drives a minivan."
I press my hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh as my brother's face goes red.
"It's a very practical vehicle," Ryan mutters, setting down the dinosaur backpack with more force than necessary. "Has excellent safety ratings. And storage space. So much storage space."
"Sure, man." Caius straightens, still grinning. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."
The dynamic between them has shifted over the past two years.
The black eye Caius sported after Ryan's punch has long since faded, replaced by something softer.
Forgiveness came slowly, in grudging increments, but it came.
Mostly because Ryan saw how Caius looked at me—like I hung the moon and stars—and couldn't stay mad at something that made his sister so happy.
Also because Caius fixed the minivan's transmission for free. Twice.
"You're late," I tell Ryan, kissing his cheek before scooping up Liam in a hug that makes him squeal. "Mom's already circling like a shark. She wants the family photo before the ceremony."
"Traffic." Ryan scrubs a hand through his hair, which is sticking up in about seventeen different directions. "And someone decided he needed to bring his entire Hot Wheels collection to show Uncle Caius."
"They're important!" Liam wiggles free from my arms and digs into the dinosaur backpack, producing a fistful of tiny cars. "See? This one's got flames!"
Caius sets down Rosie's carrier long enough to admire each vehicle with appropriate reverence. Watching them together, seeing how patient Caius is with my nephew.
He's going to be an amazing dad. Already is.
"Hallie!" My mother's voice echoes from the main reading area, sharp enough to make several patrons look up from their books. "Where are you hiding? We need to get this photo before your father starts complaining about his knees."
I exchange a look with Caius that says everything without words. Here we go.
We gather in front of the new reading nook, an chaotic assembly of O'Connors and Millers and the various accessories that come with small children.
My sister, Madison, heavily pregnant with her second, waddles over with her husband trailing behind carrying what looks like three different camera bags.
"Professional photographer," Madison announces, gesturing to her spouse. "No grainy iPhone pictures for this historic moment."
"It's a reading nook, not the moon landing," I say, but I'm smiling as I say it.
"It's Caius's first official philanthropic donation." Madison waves this away like it's obvious. "This is going in the town newsletter. Multiple angles."
Caius groans quietly beside me, his hand finding mine and squeezing. He's never been comfortable with attention, preferring to stay in the background, fixing things quietly.
But he built this for me. Put his name on it. Let the whole town see exactly how much the grease-stained mechanic loves his librarian wife.
My mom takes charge with military precision, arranging us like chess pieces. "Ryan, you're here with Liam. Madison, sit down before you topple over. Hallie and Caius in the center with the baby. Parents on the edges. No, Dad, you're blocking the sign. Move left. Your other left."
"This is why I don't come to family events," my father mutters, but he's smiling as he adjusts his position.
Caius's mom, Maura, appears from wherever she's been lurking with a container of what I already know are her famous chocolate chip cookies. "For after," she says, setting them on the reading nook's built-in shelf. "To christen the space properly."
"Ma, you didn't have to?—"
"Nonsense." She pats Caius's cheek with the same hand that used to swat him for tracking mud through her kitchen. "My boy builds something beautiful, I bring cookies. That's how it works."
Finally, after what feels like seventeen hours of positioning and repositioning, we're arranged to everyone's satisfaction. I'm tucked against Caius's side, Rosie cradled in my arms, surrounded by our chaotic, loving, slightly ridiculous family.
"Everyone say 'books!'" Madison's husband raises the camera.
"Books!" we chorus, and even Liam joins in, though he shouts "trucks!" instead.
The flash goes off. Then again. And again, because Madison's husband is nothing if not thorough.
"Got it!" He lowers the camera, checking the display with a satisfied nod. "That's going to look amazing in the newsletter."
People begin to disperse, conversations fragmenting into smaller groups. Mom corners Maura to discuss some church fundraiser. Madison waddles toward the bathroom for the third time in an hour. Ryan chases Liam away from the reference section before he can reorganize it by color.
Caius tugs me toward the reading nook, away from the chaos, Rosie still sleeping peacefully against my chest.
"Want to test it out?" He nods toward the cushioned bench, a crooked grin playing at his lips.
"There are people everywhere."
"So?" He draws the sheer curtain closed, creating a tiny bubble of privacy in the center of the library. Soft fairy light filters through the fabric, casting everything in an ethereal glow. "When has that ever stopped us?"
My mind flashes to the library stacks two years ago, his body pressed against mine in the darkness, whispering promises against my skin. Heat floods my cheeks despite myself.
"We have a baby now," I remind him, though I'm already settling onto the bench, adjusting Rosie in my arms. "We're supposed to be responsible adults."
"We are responsible." He sits beside me, close enough that our thighs touch. His arm comes around my shoulders, pulling me against his side. "See? Reading nook. Very educational. Promoting literacy."
"Uh-huh." But I'm melting into him anyway, my head finding that perfect spot on his shoulder like it was made to fit there. "Is that what we're calling this?"
"Unless you have a better name."
I think about it, breathing in the familiar scent of him beneath the soap he used this morning. Motor oil and something woodsy from his shampoo and underneath it all, just Caius. Home.
"The best decision I ever made," I say quietly.
His breath catches. "What?"
"This." I gesture vaguely at the space around us, at our daughter sleeping between us, at the life we've built together. "You. Choosing you instead of playing it safe. Best decision I ever made."