Chapter Twenty-Five The Library
Lucy
Dex turned the knob, and the door opened with a soft click. Light from a single lamp spread across the floor and caught the polished edges of new shelves. The scent of wood finish and paper filled the air.
I stepped forward and stopped. The room glowed in quiet, even light.
Books lined every wall, their spines neat and varied, colors muted by the warm tone of the lamp.
A window seat stretched under the front window, its cushions thick and new.
Two armchairs sat by the small fireplace, angled toward each other with a table between them.
A stack of books rested beside a mug already waiting for tea.
For a long moment I couldn’t speak. My chest ached, but not from sadness. It was the kind of ache that comes when something is so right you can’t take it in at once. I turned toward Dex.
“You built this?” I asked.
He nodded. “When there was time. A few hours here and there. Your dad was a great help”
“Why did you do it?”
He studied the floor for a second, then looked at me again. “Every place needs a room where you can breathe. I thought the inn should have one.”
I traced my fingers over the edge of a shelf. The surface was smooth under the pads of my fingers. “It’s beautiful. How did you know how much I wanted a library?”
“I know that you like to read. You always had a book with you for your breaks at the office. Plus, your father mentioned that you used to hide with a book whenever you had a chance growing up,” Dex revealed.
I smiled. “He told you that?”
“Proudly.”
I walked to the window seat. The cushions were soft under my hand. “I can’t believe you did this.”
Dex held out the parcel wrapped in brown paper. “I hope you like it.”
I gently took the wrapped book from him. The paper crackled under my fingers as I unwrapped it. A cloth-bound book rested inside, gold lettering pressed across the cover: Pride and Prejudice.
I let out a small breath. “Of course.”
He smiled faintly. “I might have found out from Jane that it’s your favorite. I thought you should have your own copy.”
“This is perfect,” I said, turning it in my hands. “Thank you.”
“I’m glad you like it,” he murmured.
My throat tightened. “No one’s ever done something like this for me.”
He shifted, uneasy for once. “You deserve good things. That shouldn’t be a surprise.”
“It’s a lovely surprise,” I said softly. “I love it.”
“I should apologize,” Dex said quietly.
“For what?” I frowned in confusion.
“For everything I said that night on the porch. I didn’t word things properly and I messed everything up. I was arrogant and wrong. I’m not particularly good with emotions,” Dex confessed.
“You weren’t the only one who said things they shouldn’t,” I admitted.
“I was worse.”
“Yes,” I said, smiling despite myself. “You were.”
“I was wrong. Your family is warm and welcoming. They are chaotic, but they always mean well. We come from very different backgrounds. You were given the freedom to express yourselves, while I always strove to be perfect in an effort to please my parents. Mine was a futile effort, while you had the affection and approval of yours,” Dex said almost wistfully.
“Oh, Dex. That must have been very hard,” I murmured.
“I didn’t know any differently. Your family has shown me what I have been missing.
You have shown me." He almost smiled. “I came here to try to get you to change your mind about returning to the firm. I didn’t plan to stay, or to care about the inn or your family, but it got under my skin. You got under my skin.”
I held his gaze. “You could have left.”
“I almost did. Carly wanted me back for the ski lodge project. It would have been easy to say yes. The right people, the right money. Yet it wasn’t what I wanted anymore.”
I hesitated, uncertain if I would like the answer but I had to ask. “Who is Carly to you? She seems really comfortable around you.”
“She’s always been like that, taking hold of my arm, and trying to manage the people around her, trying to manage me. She can be overpowering at times. I know that she wants more of me, but Carly isn’t the one I want to be with,” Dex replied.
“Does she know that? She’s very proprietary of you,” I murmured wryly.
“The conversation came up the night of the dance. Carly’s fully aware there is nothing between us,” Dex firmly stated. “My feelings for you haven’t changed. If anything, they’ve grown. However, I understand if you don’t feel the same way.”
I thought about how I felt. Somehow, between the snowball fight, the dance, and the help Dex had given us, I had fallen in love.
“You don’t have to answer,” he said. “About how you feel. I wanted you to see this first. Even if you never forgive me, I want you to have this room.”
“I forgave you a while ago,” I said. I reached out, taking hold of his warm hand. “I find that I like you as well.”
The words sat between us. He didn’t move, but something in the air changed—warmer, quieter, certain.
“Dex,” I began, unsure where to start. “You’re not the man I thought you were.”
“I know,” he said. “You thought I was impossible.”
“I still do,” I said, smiling.
“Then I haven’t changed that much.”
I laughed softly. “No, but you built me a library, so I can’t complain.”
His voice lowered. “I didn’t build it just for you. I built it because it felt right to create something that lasts.”
“You’re full of revelations tonight,” I said as I ran my hand along the window frame and felt the smooth curve of the wood.
“It’s been a long week.”
I looked down at the book again, then back to him. “I want you to stay,” I said quietly.
He studied me, unsure. “At the inn?”
“Yes. Here. With us.”
“I didn’t think you’d say that.”
“I didn’t think I would either,” I said. “But I’m tired of pretending it wouldn’t matter if you left.”
He stepped closer. “It would matter to me too.”
“I know.”
He smiled, a real one this time—uncontrolled, open. “Then maybe we stop pretending.”
“Maybe,” I said.
He reached for my hand, slow enough for me to decide. I met him halfway. His hand was warm and calloused from work, his grip steady but gentle. We stood like that for a moment, fingers intertwined, the fire giving off a soft glow beside us.
“You know,” I said, “you’ve turned into the kind of man who makes grand gestures after all.”
“Is that what this is?”
I gestured toward the shelves. “A secret library, a first-edition Austen of my favorite book? I would call that a grand gesture.”
He laughed quietly. “Maybe I just like overachieving.”
“I noticed.”
The laughter faded, leaving something else in its place. I could see the question in his eyes before he asked it.
“Lucy,” he said quietly, “if I’m out of line, tell me.”
“You’re not,” I said.
He leaned forward slowly. The world narrowed until there was only the warmth of him, the smell of wood polish and faint soap.
When he kissed me, it was careful at first, then certain, the kind of certainty that came without words.
My pulse steadied instead of racing. I hadn’t realized peace could feel like this.
When we broke apart, he rested his forehead lightly against mine.