Chapter 2
“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” Reese’s voice emerged from the chorus of well-wishers, and Bel barely had time to inhale before the crowd swallowed her whole.
“Dad?” She blinked as her father wrapped her in his arms, but she wasn’t hallucinating.
Her dad was in Eamon’s house, dressed in his best suit, and he wasn’t the only friendly face rushing to hug her.
All five of her older sisters and their families swarmed her with exuberant birthday wishes.
Sheriff Griffin and his wife hovered on the familial outskirts, waiting for their turn to wish her well.
Ewan Orso didn’t dare interrupt the Emerson girls, but his handsome smile greeted Bel over her sister’s heads.
Doctor Frank Victors, Lina Thum, David Kaffe.
Everyone she loved stood in the crumbling section of the mansion that was anything but ruins now.
Even Olivia Gold lingered awkwardly on the opposite side of the crowd, and her partner’s presence would’ve surprised Bel if a familiar blonde and two boys hadn’t chosen that moment to swarm her.
“Happy birthday!” Wendy Darling shrieked seconds before she collided with Bel’s chest.
“Yeah, happy birthday,” her brothers John and Michael repeated.
“Wendy?” The room spun around Bel. “What’s going on? How are you here?”
“We’re here for your surprise party.” Wendy practically sang the words in her excitement. “And boy, did we get you. Are you okay?” Her voice sobered. “Your eyes look like they might pop out of your head.”
“I’m fine…” Bel scanned the crowd for Violet. “But what about the wedding? Won’t your friends…?” She trailed off when she saw Violet’s triumphant grin. “There is no wedding, is there?”
“No, there is not.” Violet charged forward and wrapped her in a suffocating hug. “We just needed to keep you away from the mansion today so we could set up.”
“Set up?” Bel released her friend and scanned the massive room that Eamon had convinced her was a death trap. “I’ll say. How… what is this place?”
“Your present,” a deep voice cut through the excitement, and, like Moses parting the Red Sea, the crowd drew back from the guest of honor to create a path to the home’s owner. “Happy Birthday, Isobel.”
“Eamon…” His gravity forced her across the floor, and the towering millionaire captured her in his arms.
“Surprise, Detective.” He kissed her gently.
“I can’t believe you did this,” Bel whispered against his mouth as she sank into his embrace.
“I had help.” Eamon kissed her again before tucking her against his side. “It wasn’t that hard. You’re used to the renovation sounds, so all I had to do was scare you enough to keep you from snooping.”
“Were these rooms ever even damaged?” she asked.
“It was a disaster,” Ewan answered for Eamon. “I thought he was insane for thinking we could pull this off.”
“You helped?” Bel asked.
“Don’t you recognize the décor?” Violet asked.
“Um…” Bel scanned the expansive room, her brain finally calm enough to realize where she stood.
It was a library. But it wasn’t a home library with a few shelves and bookish décor.
It was a masterpiece. It was like stepping out of America and landing in European history, like landing in a fantasy realm, and Bel’s jaw dropped as she craned her neck just to see the ceiling.
Shelves upon shelves upon shelves. A grand fireplace, and sofas, and a window seat with a view.
Rolling ladders and spiral staircases and wrap-around balconies.
This wasn’t a library. This was a fairytale plucked from the pages of every little girl’s dream.
“Lumen’s Customs did all the furniture,” Violet said. “Ewan and Eamon did most of the construction… I just delegated.”
“A library… You got me a library?” Bel ignored her friend and gawked up at her boyfriend.
“I built you a library.” Eamon’s hands slid around her waist until their power swallowed her whole.
“You built me a library.” Bel burst into tears, and sensing the couple needed a moment, Violet rubbed her back before ushering the party guests toward the refreshments table.
“Come on.” Eamon kissed her before lacing his fingers through hers. “Let me show you your books.”
“Oh my god, I didn’t even notice… how? There must be thousands in here.”
“I stopped counting after the first level.”
“I don’t understand. I can’t read this many.”
“I know.” Eamon hoisted her up and placed her on one of the rolling ladders before pulling her across the floor.
“But I couldn’t leave the shelves bare. And not all of them are books you’d want to read anyway.
Some are mine—the boring work kind—and others are my first editions.
You wouldn’t want to risk ruining those by reading them. ”
“Wait, first editions?” Bel twisted to stare down at him, her position on the ladder the only time she’d ever stood taller than Eamon Stone. “As in you bought them from a collector, or—”
“I bought them when they first came out?” he finished for her. “All of my first editions were just books when I purchased them.”
“Oh my god.” Bel leaped off the wooden rung and wrapped her arms around Eamon’s neck. “Show me where those are.”
“As you wish, Detective.” Eamon shifted her until he held her bridal-style and then climbed the spiral staircase to the first balcony. “They’re yours now.”
“I couldn’t take them from you,” she protested as he set her down before the rows and rows of immaculately preserved classics.
“Well, they’re technically still in my house, so you aren’t really taking them anywhere. You could if you wanted to, though.”
“I couldn’t.” She flashed an appalled glare at him. “Charles Dickens. Emily Bronte, both her name and her original pseudonym. Ernest Hemingway. J. R. R. Tolkien. I would never take these out of this room. You have so many… millions of dollars sit on these shelves.”
“That’s the funny thing about them. They’re priceless now, but when I purchased them, they were pocket change. Some I knew would be famous, so I held onto them, and others were just novels I liked. I didn’t know that one day these books would be worth their weight in gold. And now they’re yours.”
“Eamon, this is too much.”
“I’ve read them.” He shrugged. “I was there when they were published. I think I got the better deal.”
“To have read these books before anyone knew what their names would come to mean.” Bel dragged a delicately manicured nail over one spine. “Did you hate any of them? A book you hate goes on to become immortal.”
“Of course, I hated plenty of them.” Eamon crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the shelf to watch her marvel. “Which I guess makes me the OG hater.”
“Yeah, well, who cares if you hated them when you get to brag that you have their first editions… may I?” She gestured to the perfectly preserved copy of A Wrinkle in Time.
“Of course.”
“I loved this book as a kid.” Bel pulled it off the shelf, a tear slipping down her cheek as history fell open in her hands. “This is amazing. So you read this in 1962 when it was brand new?”
“No, I read it in ‘63 after it won the Newbery Medal, but I found a first edition… what’s wrong?” he asked when she slipped the novel back into its spot.
“I don’t want to cry on it.” She leaned against his broad chest and buried her face in his shirt. “This is so beautiful. This is the best birthday I could’ve imagined. I’m so glad we can spend it together. I was a little disappointed when I believed we were spending it apart.”
“I honestly can’t believe we fooled you as well as we did. I was certain you’d call bull when I was indifferent about you leaving for the weekend.”
“I’d normally question that decision, but it was a reasonable response after everything Violet went through. Her request for me to be her plus one after the winter she had was convincing.”
“She’s the only reason we pulled this off—that and the fact that Ewan and I aren’t human. The renovations were easy for us to handle, and Ewan was a good sport. Not only did he custom-build the furniture over the past few months, but he helped me finish the restoration.”
“Did you ever sleep?” Bel rested her chin on Eamon’s chest so she could stare into his violently black eyes.
“Not really.” He chuckled, the deep rumble vibrating against her hug.
“Why a library, though? Why not just give me the first editions?”
“Because this is yours. The entire room and every book in it.”
“Excessive, but okay. I’ll never have time to read all of these.”
“Read them.” Eamon shrugged. “Don’t read them.
Lend them to your friends. They’re yours to do with as you please, and as for the room, I wanted to give you a safe space.
Not an office like you requested, where you keep work and death.
Not your cabin, which is the house you’re responsible for—a completely private refuge just for you and your dog.
When you made me swear not to leave you on Christmas, you asked me to be your haven.
This is a start towards that. You love books and your dog and your coffee.
David brought over some stuff from The Espresso Shot for your own coffee bar here.
There’s a fireplace so you never have to feel cold, and a window facing the rose garden.
” He pointed to the pillow-cluttered window seat and the vibrant red roses growing just outside the glass panes.
“Cerberus can squirrel-watch while you read.”
“He’ll love that.”
“There’s a back door so that he can go outside. I installed a mini-fridge and bar as well. I designed the library so that you technically don’t have to leave if you don’t want to, since that couch is a daybed.”
“What? Are you trying to keep me prisoner in here?” Bel waggled her eyebrows at him.
“By golly,” he pitched his voice with the exasperation of an old Hollywood movie star. “My master plan has been uncovered.”
“I thought so.” She patted his chest.
“I just wanted you to have a sanctuary that’s only yours. After today, no one will come in here unless by invitation, me included.”