Daniel put one arm around her shoulders.
The blanket separated most of them.
He did not care.
He lowered his cheek against her hair.
The tiny flowers smelled faintly sweet.
Emily whispered:
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
“I should have trusted you.”
“Trust isn't something you owe me either.”
She looked up.
“Do you practice saying things like that?”
“No.”
“You’re suspiciously good at it.”
“I have been thinking about marrying you for two years.”
“You had time.”
“Exactly.”
She smiled.
Then her expression turned serious.
“Daniel?”
“Yes?”
“If I ask you to kiss me, will you think it means I’m promising anything after?”
His chest tightened.
“No.”
“You're sure?”
“Yes.”
Emily studied him.
Then whispered:
“Kiss me.”
He did.
Slowly.
The first touch of his lips was gentle enough that she could change her mind before it truly began.
She did not.
Her fingers curled into the front of his shirt.
Daniel deepened the kiss slightly.
Then stopped.
Emily opened her eyes.
“Why did you stop?”
“To ask.”
She stared.
“Ask what?”
“If you're all right.”
Her expression softened.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
She kissed him this time.
The fire snapped behind them.
Wind moved through the pines.
The entire world beyond the cabin seemed to disappear.
Nothing rushed.
Nothing needed proving.
When they finally pulled apart, Emily rested her forehead against his.
Daniel smiled.
“What?”
She shook her head.
“Henry never asked.”
Daniel’s smile disappeared.
Emily touched his cheek.
“Don't let him into this room.”
Daniel understood.
He nodded.
“All right.”
That night they slept beside each other.
Nothing more.
Emily curled against his side eventually.
Daniel woke three times because his arm had gone numb beneath her.
He did not move it.
By morning, he could barely feel his fingers.
Emily woke first.
She found him staring at the ceiling.
“What’s wrong?”
“My arm is dead.”
She lifted her head quickly.
“You should have moved me.”
“I considered it.”
“And?”
“You looked comfortable.”
She stared.
“That may be the stupidest romantic thing anyone has ever done.”
“Thank you.”
“It was not praise.”
He flexed his fingers painfully.
Emily laughed.
Daniel decided the sound was worth a useless arm.
Their first morning as husband and wife began with burnt biscuits.
Emily blamed the oven.
Daniel blamed distraction.
She threw flour at him.
He kissed her in the kitchen.
Then stopped because she began laughing against his mouth.
The terror of the previous night did not disappear.
But something had shifted.
A secret spoken aloud had lost some of its power.
Not all.