Chapter 27 INGA
I didn't even hear the first knock. I was brushing Klaus's hair—it was still fluffy and soft from last night's bath—when a polite tap sounded at the suite door.
Axel, sitting cross-legged on the carpet with a half-eaten apple, froze, while Hilde dove under the table.
"Don't worry," I said, even though my heart jumped too. "It's just the hotel staff."
I opened the door carefully and nearly fainted. Two women stood there, each holding an armful of fabric swatches and measuring tapes around their necks. Behind them, a man waited with polished wooden boxes and a leather tool kit.
"Fr?ulein Weber?" one of the women asked. "Captain Griffin arranged fittings. Clothes for you and the children."
My jaw dropped. "I—he—what?"
"Shall we begin?" she asked with a professional smile.
Before I could protest, the three of them filed into the suite and transformed it into something between a boutique and a miracle.
Within an hour, both boys had several pairs of trousers and shirts, and a pair of sturdy shoes each.
Hilde had two dresses that made her twirl and clap her hands, as well as shoes.
And I… I had dresses. So many, I didn't know how I would ever wear them.
Whenever I tried to protest, the ladies told me this was at the Captain's orders and that they wouldn't do their job if they listened to me.
When the seamstress fastened the last button, I nearly burst into tears. And Gideon wasn't even here.
I thought that was the end of it. But I was wrong, not even an hour later, another knock came. Two hotel staff members wheeled in books, a whole stack of them, then toys. Puzzles, games, a doll and dollhouse. And…
A train set.
An entire metal train with tracks and switches and a little station house that lit up. Little people who stood, miniature trees, cars…
Klaus froze mid-step. Axel's jaw dropped. Hilde made a noise I didn't know children could make, half squeal, half gasp, full of wonder.
"For us?" Klaus whispered.
"Yes," I said softly. "For you."
They didn't move at first, as if afraid it would vanish. Then Axel whispered, "This is better than Christmas," and they descended on the train set like tiny engineers possessed by joy. Their laughter filled the suite. Pure. Bright. Unbroken by hunger.
I allowed myself to simply watch them be children.
Food kept coming too.
Plates of warm rolls. Cold meats. Jars of preserves. Cakes left discreetly by the staff. Hot soup. Fresh fruit. Someone knocked again with pastries. Then someone else with a tray of milk bottles.
I didn't understand any of it.
All I knew was that every minute felt like another piece of the future I never dared to imagine.
I had no idea how Gideon could afford any of this, but I had to trust him.
He hadn't let me down yet, and I had promised myself I would enjoy this.
No matter what followed, this was just a time to be happy.
By early evening, the kids were full and pink-cheeked, the suite warm with lamps and steam from the kettle the kitchen kept bringing up. I wanted everything perfect for when Gideon came home.
I arranged the dining table the way I remembered my mother doing, carefully placing silverware and unfolding cloth napkins. I smoothed the tablecloth a dozen times. I adjusted a chair. Lit the little candle in the center.
Then I found the bellboy on his way down the hall. When he looked up, I pressed two of Gideon's cigarettes into his palm.
"Please… when Captain Griffin returns, tell the kitchen immediately. I want them to bring dinner up fresh and hot." I leaned closer. "And don't tell him I bribed you."
The boy smiled sheepishly. "Yes, Fr?ulein."
I exhaled.
Now all I could do was wait.
More hours passed. I felt disoriented. I didn't know what to do with this happiness or with myself when I had nothing to do or worry about.
It was a strange new world for me. The children napped, woke, played with the train, and napped again.
I looked at the books, started reading one, then another when I couldn't remember a word I had read.
I kept glancing at the door every few minutes. Every sound in the hallway made my heart race. Then finally—finally—a knock. Followed by a familiar voice. "Inga?"
I nearly flew to the door. When I opened it, there he was. Windblown from the tarmac. His uniform was rumpled in places, his hair a mess. Exhaustion poured from every line of his body.
And yet—
He smiled like dawn when he saw me.
"You're home," I whispered.
Home.
What a strange word to say to a man I'd known for only a few weeks. But it felt right. He stepped inside and froze when he saw the table, the children clean and smiling and tumbling toward him.
"Gideon!" Klaus yelled. "Look! Look what we have!"
Axel grabbed his hand.
Hilde showed him her doll and hugged him. I swear I saw tears in his eyes. Klaus pointed at the train. They spoke over each other, a chaotic joy he seemed ready to collapse under. Then all three of them wrapped around his legs like he was Christmas, Easter, and their birthdays combined.
Gideon blinked fast—too fast—and knelt, gathering all three into his arms at once.
"Thank you," I whispered from behind him. "For… all of this. For everything."
He looked up at me, his jaw was tight with emotion, and stood. I don't know what he was going to say, because just then another knock came, and several hotel employees entered, pushing carts with silver-domed plates ahead of them.
"Dinner?" he asked softly.
I nodded.
We sat like a family. We ate like a family. We laughed like a family.
For the first time in years, for the first time since bombs fell and my father disappeared and the world ended, I felt my heart put itself back together.
After dessert, the train set called them again, the children pulled Gideon to the floor, and he went—willingly—switching tracks and pretending to crash trains.
Klaus giggled hysterically the entire time.
Then Hilde talked him into playing with her and her dollhouse, and I thought my heart would melt right there on the spot.
Later that night, the kids took warm baths, yawning through the steam.
Hilde fell asleep with the towel still wrapped around her head.
Axel didn't make it through pulling on his new pajamas.
Klaus clung to Gideon's neck until his eyes finally fluttered closed, and Gideon carried him to bed like he weighed nothing.
I tucked them in, one by one, smoothing hair, whispering soft goodnights, letting my heart stretch and ache with all the love inside it.
And every time I looked up… he was there. Gideon, standing in the doorway. Warm. Tall. Safe. Watching me like I was something holy.
My heart pounded like it was trying to break free. Because all day—every moment, every breath—one thought had been circling me like a hawk. One thought I didn't want to face, yet couldn't escape. I wanted him. Not just his help. Not just his kindness. Not just his protection.
Him.
His mouth. His hands. His heat. His steady, unshakeable presence that made the world finally feel like it wasn't ending.
After he left this morning… after that kiss…
after his hands held my face so gently… something inside me had woken up.
I kept trying to ignore it during the fittings, but in moments when the seamstress tugged fabric at my waist or brushed against my skin, something inside me fluttered and tightened.
My body felt strange, too warm, oddly sensitive.
Like something deep in me had been waiting too long and was suddenly starving.
Was that arousal?
I didn't know.
I'd only ever known fear around men. Fear and desperation and the knowledge that everything could be taken from me at any moment.
But with Gideon?
There was no fear.
Only…want.
And now that the children were finally asleep, their small breaths soft and steady in the dark, I stepped out into the sitting room where Gideon waited.
Getting ready to make his bed on the couch.
He looked up the moment I entered. His eyes softened like they always did when they fell on me. And the world tilted.
"Hey," he said quietly.
"Hey," I whispered.
He stepped toward me. "Everything okay?"
I nodded. Then shook my head. Then nodded again.
He smiled faintly. "Which one?"
"All of them," I said helplessly.
He chuckled under his breath, then sobered when he saw my hands trembling.
I swallowed hard. "My mind… my body…" I whispered, cheeks burning.
"They feel strange. Different. Ever since this morning.
Ever since your kiss." His breath caught.
"And I don't know what it means. I've never—" My voice cracked.
"I've never wanted anything like this. Anyone like this. "
Gideon took a slow step toward me, then another. He stopped close enough that I felt his warmth brush against my skin. "You don't owe me anything," he said softly. "Not ever."
"I know." And I did. Deep down, I truly did.
And this wasn't about paying back or anything like that; this was about what I wanted.
"But I want…" My voice trembled again as I was unable to finish the sentence.
I swallowed hard and pulled up all my courage.
"I want to be yours. Completely. Not because I have to.
Not because I'm desperate. Not because I'm trying to pay you back.
" I lifted my hand to his chest, feeling the solid heat of him beneath my palm.
"But because I love you. Because I trust you. Because I want this."
His breath left him in a hard, shaky exhale. "Inga," he murmured, "you have no idea what you're doing to me."
I stepped closer, closing the last inch between us. "Tell me," I whispered. "Tell me what you did today."
He cupped my cheek, thumb brushing lightly against my skin. "I fast-tracked the marriage forms," he said. "Housing, too. Everything we need."