He pats my back and quietly says, “I love you, my boy.”
Tears fill my eyes as I clutch him tightly. “I love you, too.”
When Theo releases me, he cups my cheek. “Don’t mess this up. Lilija is a once-in-a-lifetime love.”
“I promise you, I’ll spend the rest of my life honoring her and the love she has for me. You have my word.”
He pats my cheek. “I know I do.” And then he takes off, leaving me stunned.
I sit back in my chair just as Lara walks through the door, a wary look on her face. “Please tell me that conversation was a good one.”
I smile up at her. “Lara, it was a fucking amazing one.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
LILLY
“This dress is beautiful,” I say to Runa as I look at myself in the standing mirror in my bathroom. A baby-blue wrap dress with lace details, lace sleeves, and a ruffle hem. It’s stunning, and I still can’t believe I get to wear clothes like this. Plus . . . it’s so soft. I keep touching the fabric, which I need to stop doing because if I do that in public, it’ll look like I’m feeling myself up.
“I believe it’s my favorite so far,” Runa says as she adjusts the tie in the back. “Have you seen the style blogs that’ve been popping up about you?”
“No. Are you serious? Ha, if they only knew what I really like to wear. Although, this dress is comfortable and flattering. Would it be horrible to see what other dresses this designer has?”
“Not at all. She’s local, actually.”
“Really?” I ask. “I like that a lot. She does great work.” I adjust my hair, which we curled into soft waves and pinned back on the sides. “Okay, I think I’m ready.”
“Very well. I set your shoes on the settee for you to put on. Your clutch is ready and I added the notes you like to keep in there as well.”
I feel my cheeks blush at the mention of Keller’s poems. I’ve carried them with me, wherever I go. Runa knows that when we change clutches, those change out as well.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
“I shall let Henrik in to go over your schedule while you put on your shoes.”
“Thank you.” We walk back into my bedroom together, but while Runa leaves, I walk over to the settee, where my light-blue heels are waiting for me.
I sit and reach for a shoe as the door opens again. Expecting to see Henrik, I smile and look up, only for my breath to be stolen from my lungs as Keller walks in. His imposing stature fills the room as he shuts the door behind him.
Wearing a black suit with a black shirt and black tie, he looks devastatingly handsome.
“K-Keller,” I say, sitting tall now. “What are you doing here?”
Not saying a word, he walks across the room and to the settee, where he sits next to me. The first thing I notice is the clarity in his eyes. The next thing I notice is how much bigger he seems, like his arms are about to burst out of his suit jacket. And the final thing is that delicious scent of his, a masculine cologne that clung to me when we were in Harrogate. It’s wrapping around me, gripping my heart like a vise.
“I’m here to talk to you about your day,” he says.
“Wh-what? Like you, uh, you got your job back?”
“Yes, I was reinstated last night.”
I gulp.
“So does that mean you’ll be—”
“By your side, every day, guiding you through your events? That would be correct.”
“Oh.” I swallow again. “Okay, well, that’s, uh, that’s a new development.”
“Would you prefer Henrik?”
“No, I mean . . . I don’t know,” I say, my mind a total mess. I let out a deep breath. “I don’t know what to think.”
“Am I free to speak outside of professional norms right now?”
“Of course,” I answer, feeling weird about the formality with him.
“Lilly, I need to apologize to you. What I did to you on the day of your welcoming parade was unforgivable. I was trying to solve a problem, trying to keep you safe, and trying to avoid these damaging thoughts in my head. I quickly realized my behavior, my way of handling everything, did nothing but steal you from me. And I lost the best thing that’s ever happened in my life. It’s unforgivable, I realize that, but what I’m hoping is that you can allow me to make it up to you, to show you.”
“Is that what you’ve been doing with those poems? With the squeezes to my hand?”
“Love poetry dates back to our ancestors, a form to show a woman what they meant to the poet. I lost my ability to speak with you and I had to earn that back, therefore I wrote to you. I wrote every night. I thought of your bewitching eyes, your courageous heart, and your gracious soul. And I dreamed of what I’d say to you if I ever got the chance.”