Chapter 177: All the way he loves her

Chapter 178: All the way he loves her
I woke to the soft whisper of bedclothes and the scent of promise carried in on the breath of coffee. The other bed next to me was warm, but Caspian was not there. Not close—he no longer ventured far. I turned my head toward the brightness that streamed through the windows, and there he was.
He stood at the doorway, tray in hand with the suspicious pride of bearing treasure. My heart was sore.
"Good morning, sweetheart," he said, already warm, already reaching out in his voice.
I sat up, supporting the pillows against my back, and my soporific, terracotta, still-altered body hurt. He crossed the room and put the tray down on the bed—a small porcelain tea pot, my scones, and a small card between the napkin and a sprig of lavender.
"What's this?" I said, smiling.
He leaned over and brushed his lips against my cheek. "Day one of all the ways I'm going to spoil you."
I blinked. "Day one?"
Caspian sat down beside me, drawing up one leg so he could sit facing me. His eyes remained on mine, full of things left unsaid.
"I want you to understand how much you're loved," he told me. "Not just because you're carrying our child. Because you're you. And because I want you to be surrounded with that love every day we have."
I wrapped my hand around his, fingers intertwining.
My eyes welled up with tears.
"I already do, Caspian."
"I want to ensure," he gasped, his thumb sketching out in my palm as if branding me in his mind.
The next few days were a procession of gifts. None of them loud and flashy—but only superbly, heart-stoppingly considerate.
A quilted coverlet the precise shade of blue he declared it made him think of my eyes when I wept.
A diary on recycled paper with my initials embossed in gold on the cover, for my pregnancy journaling.
A wee gold locket with room for two pictures inside—"'One of us,' he'd said, 'and one for the baby.'"
Every gift came with a note, and every note made my chest ache with pleasure.
But it wasn't the presents themselves.
It was the way he gazed at me every time he happened to think I wasn't looking.
The way he hovered without hovering—always close, always listening, always attuned when I had required space or proximity or silence.
It was the way he talked to my stomach when he thought I was asleep, telling the little one all about how he met them for the first time, how scared he had been of losing something he didn't know yet that he needed.

I was drenched in sweetness by the end of the week. And I never wanted to break through.
And so when he told me to dress warmly—something loose, something silky—and took me out into our villa's garden blindfolded, I already had a feeling something was going on.
The scent was thick with orange blossoms and damp ground. Music was drifting somewhere near me—strings, I would have wagered, something grim and sorrowful.
He stopped walking and took off the blindfold.
I gasped in.
There were scores of candles floating in glass basins over the pool, forming waves of gold that brushed against stone walls. Petals flowed from where we were to the water's edge. There was a white tablecloth spread for two under a flowering tree, and the garden felt like a whispered invitation.
"Oh," I panted.
Caspian didn't say a word at first. He just stood next to me, letting me take it all in.
Then he faced me completely.
"I know it's too soon," he said to me. "And I know we're making a million adjustments. But I can wait any longer."
He reached deep into his pocket, and my heart froze.
"Caspian…
He kneeled on one knee, the candle flame dancing in his eyes. They did not sparkle fierce, as they sometimes did in sessions. They did not even seem solid. They seemed full—of hope and fear and something old and new.
He slid back the velvet, revealing to her a ring that shone like starlight. Plain. Beautiful. Just me.
"I've loved you since the instant you stared at me as if I weren't a beast," he said. "I've loved you through all the battles, all the silences, all the caresses. You've changed my life in ways I never knew it could be changed. And now you're holding our future.".
"I need to be the one who's with you every day. The one who reminds you how sacred you are. The one who protects what we're building—even from us."
My heart was racing so hard it would burst wide open.
"Lily Rossi," he answered, voice serious now, "will you marry me?"
Tears ran down my face, but I could still feel the tremble of his hand as he placed the ring on it.
"Yes," I whispered.
And more strongly: "Yes. Of course, yes."
His face cracked up into something so pared, so dripping with happiness, that I felt my knees go to water.
He got up and placed the ring on my hand, then wrapped me in his arms and kissed me like a man who had waited his entire life for such a second. 
Music kept playing, candles whirled, and we remained frozen in the middle of this garden as if the world did not exist.
Eventually, when the dinner had cooled and the stars had spun above us, we reclined on the chaise lounge covered by a heavy blanket. My head was on his chest, and I could hear his heart thudding against my ear.

"I'm going to marry you," he whispered.
"You are."
"I never thought I'd have this," he said. "This kind of love. This kind of peace."
I lifted my eyes to look at him. "Me neither."
His hand on my belly, he stroked slow circles over where our baby was being made.
"We're going to have a family," he whispered.
I nodded, not able to speak.
It felt like the point of something sacred. Like some new forever had begun.
And I did not want any of it to end.