“There you are.”
He turned at the sound of his wife’s voice. Lily was wearing scarlet, his favorite color on her, and she stood out like a bright poppy in his garden.
He smiled into her green eyes and held out his hand. “I’m afraid Indio has rushed off to ravage the rest of the wedding cake.”
“Well, someone has to eat it,” she replied, taking his hand. “Maude baked far too much. There’s plenty more at home.”
They’d married only three days ago, in a small private ceremony marked mostly by the abundance of Maude’s seed cake. They’d been eating it ever since, often on the picnics Lily, Indio, and Maude brought for his luncheon at the garden.
“And how have you spent your morning?” he teased Lily, for he knew very well what she’d been doing.
Artemis had given them a small town house not far from the garden. She had insisted it was a wedding present, but Apollo expected to repay her the cost of the house when he came into his inheritance. From the reports, it wouldn’t be too long.
“Have you any idea how hard it is to paint a room?” Lily asked. “I thought peach for my writing room, but then it turned the most ghastly shade of orange on the wall. The painters are going over it now in yellow, although with my luck it’ll turn some terrible shade of brown.”
“Mmm,” he murmured, listening more to the sound of her voice than to her words.
“Next I’m considering painting your study lavender,” she continued, “perhaps with pink stripes.”
He looked at her. “I am paying attention.”
“Good.” She took a deep breath, suddenly serious. “I’ve something for you.”
He stopped, turning to face her. “What is it?”
She fumbled in the pocket of her dress. “I found it this morning while I was unpacking the chest I had at the theater, and I thought…”
She held out his notebook.
He took it wonderingly as she continued to talk, her words coming more and more rapidly.
“I found it after the soldiers came and I kept it. I don’t know why because at that point I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again. But then when I uncovered it this morning, I knew… that is…”
She reached out and flipped the pages of the notebook until the last page lay open in his hands. She’d written something there. He bent and read.
I love you, Beast.
I love you, Caliban.
I love you, Apollo.
I love you, Romeo.
I love you, Smith.
I love you, Gardener.
I love you, Aristocrat.
I love you, Lover.
I love you, Husband.
I love you, Friend.
I love you, You.
He inhaled and looked up.
She was twisting her hands together. “For a writer, I’m awfully ineloquent. I don’t know—”
He dropped the notebook and pulled her into his arms, kissing her passionately. He held her sweet face between his palms and caressed her temples with his thumbs as he opened his mouth over hers, inhaling her gasp.
When at last he drew back, he whispered against her lips, “Do you know where we are?”
“Yes,” she murmured, her eyes closed. “At the heart of the maze.” And when she opened her lichen-green eyes he saw all the love he’d ever hoped for shining in her eyes just for him. “At your heart—and mine.”