Chapter 94: Our Room

Cecilia

It was exactly as I'd left it—the pale blue walls I'd chosen when I was fourteen, the window seat overlooking the ocean where I'd spent countless hours reading, the bookshelf stuffed with novels and textbooks, even the ridiculous poster of some boy band I'd been obsessed with at sixteen still hanging on the wall.

"Arthur." I turned to look at him, and he was leaning against the doorframe, watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read. "You kept everything."

"Of course I did." He pushed off the frame and moved into the room. "This was your space. Your sanctuary. I wasn't going to let anyone touch it."

I walked over to the window seat and sat down, running my hand over the cushions. I could almost see my younger self curled up here, crying because I missed my father, because I didn't understand why everything had changed so suddenly.

"I used to hate this room," I said quietly. "When I first got here. I'd sit on this window seat and cry for hours, begging to go home, to see my dad."

Arthur came to sit beside me, his presence warm and solid. "I remember."

"You used to come sit with me." The memory was suddenly vivid—Arthur in his early twenties, already tall and serious, pulling me into his lap and letting me sob into his shirt. "You'd hold me and tell me it was okay to be sad."

"You were nine years old and your whole world had just fallen apart." His voice was rough. "Of course you were sad."

"And I told you we'd make it feel like home, we'd change whatever you wanted until it was perfect for you."

I gestured around the room. "You let me pick the colors, the furniture, the decorations. You turned this entire estate into how I like it."

"Because that's what it was supposed to be." He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Your home. Not just a place you were staying, but actually home."

I felt tears prick at my eyes again, and I blinked them back. "Thank you. For keeping it this way. For waiting for me."

"Always," he said simply.

We sat there for a few more minutes, just looking out at the ocean, before Arthur stood and offered me his hand.

"Come on," he said. "Let me show you our room."

"Our room?" I raised an eyebrow as I let him pull me to my feet.

"Well." A smile played at his lips. "I was hoping you'd be willing to share with me. Unless you'd prefer to sleep in here?"

"Arthur Winston." I stepped closer, until we were almost touching. "Are you asking me to move into your bedroom?"

"I'm asking you to move into our bedroom," he corrected. "There's a difference."

"Is there?"

"A very important one." His hands came to rest on my waist. "One implies temporary. The other implies forever."

I pretended to consider it, tapping my finger against my lips. "Well, I suppose I could be persuaded. What's in it for me?"

"Me," he said with absolutely no shame. "Every night. For the rest of our lives."

I laughed, loud and genuine, and threw my arms around his neck. "Sold. I'm in."

He picked me up, spinning us in a circle while I laughed, and then he was carrying me out of my old room and down the hallway toward the master suite.

"Arthur, put me down—"

"Absolutely not." He kicked open the door to his—our—bedroom. "I'm carrying my fiancée over the threshold. It's tradition."

"That's for after the wedding!"

"I'm practicing." He set me down gently on the massive four-poster bed that dominated the room. "Making sure I get it right."

I looked around, just as I remembered. But there were new additions too: a second nightstand on what was clearly meant to be my side of the bed, a vanity in the corner that definitely hadn't been there before, that I recognized as being from my old room.

"Did you touch my vanity table?" I said, spotting familiar spines.

He sat down beside me. "I wanted you to feel like this was your space too. Not just mine."

I leaned in and kissed him, slow and sweet, trying to pour everything I was feeling into it.

He stood, pulling me with him. "Now come on. Let's go have lunch. I wouldn’t want my Ceci to go hungry."

"Yes, sir," I said sarcastically, and he swatted my ass, making me yelp.

"Careful," he said, his voice dropping to that register that always made my stomach flip. "Or I'll have to punish you for that attitude."

"Promises, promises," I shot back, and then we were both laughing as we made our way downstairs.

The dining room was set for two, the table laden with enough food for six people. Mrs. Chen had clearly gone all out.

"This is amazing," I said as we sat down. "Arthur, I’m so happy today."

"I hope you’re happy every day." He wrapped his arms around me from behind. "I’ll make that day special. A celebration of us."

"It will be." I leaned back against his chest. "I can't wait."

"Neither can I." His lips found my neck. "Though I'm more excited about what comes after."

"What comes after?"

"The wedding." His voice was low, intimate. "Making you my wife. Officially and completely mine."

Heat flooded through me, and I turned in his arms to face him. "I'm already yours, Arthur. I have been for a long time."

"I know." He kissed me, deep and thorough. "But I want the world to know it too."

I smiled against his lips. "But for now, let's first give them a party they won't forget."

"Oh, we will," he promised.