Overdue

Chapter Forty-Six

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Macon drove me home. The porch and living room lights were on when we arrived, and the little stone cottage was twinkling merrily in the snow. Edmond’s silhouette was in the front window.

“Did you stop by on your way to the store just to turn on the lights?” I asked with delight.

“I did.”

I fake gasped. “The electricity!”

“I wanted you to come home to a warm house. Our house.”

The words settled over me. I tried them out, and they felt good. “Our house.” My throat tightened as tears welled in my eyes. “I love this house.”

He turned off the car and smiled at me. “I know you do.”

“I mean, I might be marrying you just for this house.”

He laughed. “Good. Then my evil plan worked.”

“What evil plan?”

“To create the perfect house to entrap you. All your favorite colors, your favorite things.”

My gasp was real this time. “Riley said that’s what you were doing!”

“Yeah. I thought I was being pretty obvious.”

Although a thrill ran through me, hurt and worry followed. “But I thought you liked everything. I never would have pushed something on you that I thought you wouldn’t like.”

He reached for my left hand, and one of his fingers encircled my ring finger. Locking us together. “I know. And I do love everything, especially because it reminds me of you. Of us. I think the whole thing is very us.”

Holding hands with him was still the most extraordinary pleasure. “It is, isn’t it?”

“Come on,” he said, encouraging me to get out. “Come see your Christmas present.”

“Oh no! You agreed to no presents. I don’t have anything for you.”

“It’s for both of us. You can actually see it from here.”

I swiveled around to look, but everything appeared to be the same. “Is it in the garden?”

“Nope.”

“Is that a different cat?”

He urged me out again. “Come on.”

I hurried to the door and searched for my house key as he hefted my suitcase out of the trunk. I was still combing through the bottom of my tote when he reached me. His keys were still out, so he unlocked the door and held it open for me.

“Oh my God,” I said. “The books!”

The long wall of shelving had finished curing while I was away, and he’d transferred all the books from his study into the living room.

The space was now cozy and alive. Just like I’d envisioned, the colors of the spines popped against the oversaturation of rich green.

It made the books look like old and beloved art.

It positioned them as the most important objects in the house, the first things people would see upon entering.

They were the books of a librarian and a bookseller.

And then I realized they were . He had unpacked my books, too, and mixed them in alphabetically with his.

“I realize we didn’t discuss organization.” He sounded nervous now. “We could switch the placement of fiction and nonfiction. Or if you’d rather keep our collections separate, we could always put my books on that side of the doorway and yours on the other—”

“It’s perfect . I love that our books are sitting side by side and getting to know each other, rubbing off on each other. All of their knowledge and stories mixing together.”

The way he smiled told me it was how he imagined it, too. “Phil thought it was a mistake to build this many shelves, but there had to be enough space for both of us.”

Something occurred to me. “But you built them before we started dating.”

“Like I said. Phil thought it was a mistake.”

My smile grew to match his.

“Oh!” he said. “But that’s not your present. Turn around.”

I had been so captivated by the books that I had failed to notice all the new furniture—the long green velvet sofa and matching love seat and adjustable reading lamps.

They weren’t knockoffs of the items I had texted him so many months ago: Something like this but obviously not THI$.

They were the actual items. My tote bag slid out of my hand and dropped to the floor.

“Edmond was sitting on the back of the couch in the window,” Macon said, relishing my reaction. “You just forgot we didn’t have a couch.”

I turned slowly to face him. “I don’t mean to be… I don’t know how to say this… but clearly we forgot to discuss one other subject.”

“I’m not a secret millionaire, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

It broke the tension, and I laughed.

“But obviously I haven’t spent any money on this house in… well, ever. So I have some savings.”

“You didn’t have to do this. I would have married you without the furniture.” I was joking but also not. “Your trousseau already includes a whole house.”

“I did try to find similar used versions, but everything you picked out was so special. And I fell in love with the idea of us reading together in this room. So I waited until”—he pretended to gag and choke—“the Black Friday sales, and then Phil let me store it all in his garage. We’ll still need to get curtains and throw pillows and a rug, but I didn’t want to buy any of those soft things without you. ”

“I don’t know what to say. Nobody’s ever given me anything like this before.”

“Merry Christmas,” Macon said, guiding me toward the sofa and pulling me down onto it with him.

The velvet cushions were squashy and comfortable and so much nicer than anything either of us had ever owned before.

It was my first furniture made out of real wood.

I would never have to worry about it collapsing underneath me. The structure was solid and sturdy.

“What do you think?” he asked.

I beamed. “I think it’ll last a lifetime.”

Edmond stood up on the back of the couch and leaned forward to bop my forehead in greeting. I’d missed him, too, and nuzzled deeper into his fur.

“My new job comes with a raise,” Macon said, “so I’ll have more money to support us. You know, during any hard times at the bookstore. Or if things happen with my mom. Or if your parents need help. I want to be there for your family, too.”

I cocked my head at him. “Is that why you were so nervous about getting this job?”

“I mean, I want the job. I’ve wanted it since I started working for the library system. I just couldn’t bear to leave my favorite coworker.”

I was smiling at him again. I couldn’t stop.

“But yeah,” he said, “I want to be able to help you. And I know I can’t solve every financial problem, I’m still a county employee”—we both snorted—“but occasionally I can buy us a new couch. Or a bed for our guests. And we can save up for that trip to Australia.”

“And Disney World.”

“I was hoping you’d forgotten about that one.”

I laughed. “At least we can stay with my parents. We won’t have to pay for a hotel.” I nudged my body against his. “You know… soon my family will be your family, too.”

His brows lifted. I don’t think he’d made that full leap in his mind before.

“And we have an Olympian now,” I bragged.

It made him laugh, but then he sprang back to his feet. “Oh! You have to see the rest.”

“The rest ?”

His smile widened as I followed him into the study.

He’d moved the television in there, but with his books gone, the room was nearly half empty.

“I thought we could put a desk in here for you, too. Or you could do whatever else you’d like to do with this space.

” He led me to Edmond’s room. “The guest bed will go in here, but the rest of the room can be used for storage. But if my mom has to move in with us someday, maybe we could build another storage shed outside?” In our bedroom, he had already cleared out space for me in the closet and dresser weeks ago, but he showed me that he’d made even more room.

“I would have unpacked your other boxes, but it didn’t seem right to go through your stuff without you. ”

“It’s actually happening,” I said in wonderment.

“What is?”

“I’m not going to be living out of boxes anymore.”

It was as if he was proposing all over again. His voice became husky. “It’s yours. Everything. And we can paint the walls of these rooms any colors you want.”

I shuddered. “I don’t want to paint anything else for at least a year.”

“Thank God, because neither do I. But I would have, for you.”

It was an extremely romantic thing to say, and I kissed him. He responded fervently, guiding me backward toward the bed.

“Bedrooms are great,” I said, pulling away, “but let’s try out the new couch.”

He feigned weakening in the knees and allowed me to lead him back to the living room.

I had been so distracted by the books and furniture earlier that I had failed to notice he had also added a number of beautiful potted plants.

The house looked like it belonged to both of us.

It looked like ours . And then I noticed that the largest plant, a four-foot conifer, was strung with unlit lights, a garland of cranberries and popcorn, and ornaments made out of dried orange slices.

As I gasped, he followed my gaze and then swore. “That was supposed to be plugged in,” he said, breaking away from me and scrambling to the floor to fix it. “I forgot.”

“Macon! You got us a Christmas tree.”

“A Norfolk pine,” he corrected. “It’ll get bigger. I thought it could live in here year-round to go with our forest theme. Unless Edmond starts nibbling on it, and then we’ll have to move it outside. It’s mildly toxic to cats. But so far, he just likes napping underneath the boughs.”

The lights turned on, blanketing us in a warm sparkling glow. My heart melted. “You got us a Christmas tree,” I said again.

“I stole the lights from your store. A strand from a display in the back,” he said, quick to explain. He stood back up. “Mika said it was okay.”

I touched an orange slice gently. “You made these?”

He nodded. Suddenly he looked shy and embarrassed.

It was painful how much I loved him. I pulled his face into mine and kissed him again, loving how sweet he was and how sweet he tasted. He responded with more intensity, and I yanked him down onto the couch with me. Edmond was still sitting on the back of it.

“Scram,” Macon growled, shooing him off.

My head lifted to watch Edmond leap from the couch onto his cat tree, and I became aware of one final surprise: the air was fragrant with onions and garlic and cayenne.

“Holy shit,” I said in disbelief. “You made dinner, too.”

“Of course I did. There’s a spicy peanut and sweet potato stew in the slow cooker.”

“ How has nobody tried to marry you before?”

“Because I despise everyone except you and scowl at them and make them scuttle away like little crabs.”

“Oh, hush. You do not.”

“Sometimes I do.”

“Only the people who deserve it.”

He laughed.

“This is unfair,” I said, thumping his chest. Almost actually angry.

“What is?”

“It’s so unbalanced. I’m getting everything, and you’re just getting me.”

“First of all”—he flipped me onto my back and pinned me—“I’m getting a fucking bookstore . Have you ever considered that maybe I’m marrying you for that?”

It honestly did make me feel better.

“Second of all”—his face softened as he took me in—“you are everything. You’re literal sunshine. You light up my life and bring color into my world, and all I’ve wanted since the day we met is to bask in the warmth of your glow.”

I beamed up at him, radiant with happiness.

“See?” he whispered. “Sunshine.”

I tugged on his shirt and pulled him down into me.

“Warmth,” he said, pressing against me.

Illuminated by the tree and reading lamps, Macon looked happy, too, surrounded by our green forest, life and stories growing all around him. And perhaps I was his light, but he had guided me out of the darkness and into this new life. Light simply had no purpose without life.

Here, with him, I had found a purpose.

Here, with him, I was filled with life.