Iris’s brows raised in surprise when Marisol gave her the copper ring. She obviously hadn’t expected they would still get married this day, let alone have rings to exchange, and she slipped it on his pinkie. Roman quickly returned the favor, sliding the silver onto her finger. It was a bit loose, but it would do for now.
He liked to see it on her hand, gleaming in the light.
“And now to conclude our service,” Keegan said, shutting the book, “seal your vows with a kiss.”
“At last,” Roman said, despite the fact their vows had taken only half a minute.
Iris laughed. Gods, he loved the sound, and he drew her closer. He kissed her thoroughly; his tongue brushed against hers, and he reveled in the slight gasp she gave him.
His blood was pounding, but they still had to eat dinner. Marisol had insisted on it. And so he broke the kiss.
Attie cheered, tossing flowers over them. Roman watched the petals cascade like snow, catching in their hair. Iris smiled, weaving her fingers with his.
He thought about who he had been before he had met her. Before she had stepped into the Gazette. Before her letter had crossed his wardrobe door. He thought about who he wanted to be now that her hand was in his.
He would always be grateful for his decision that night, not so long ago. The night when he decided to write her back.
* * *
Marisol sat them down, side by side, at the table. Iris was hungry, but she was also so excited and nervous that she wasn’t sure how much she’d be able to eat.
“Soup and bread tonight,” Marisol said, setting two bowls down before them. “Simple fare, but it should be enough, I hope?”
“This is perfect, Marisol,” Iris said. “Thank you.”
Not long after that, soldiers began to file in, partaking in a quick meal before they returned to their stations. The B and B was soon hot and crowded, brimming with candlelight and low murmurs. Iris continued to sit close beside Roman, her hand in his, resting on his thigh.
“I hear someone got married tonight,” one of the soldiers said with a smile.
Iris blushed when Roman held up his hand. “I’m the lucky one.”
That set off a round of cheers and claps, and Iris was amazed to find this felt normal, like any other night. And yet tomorrow was Enva’s Day, the end of the week. Anything could happen, and Iris tried to bury her worries. She wanted to simply enjoy the present. This was the life she wanted—slow and easy and vibrant, surrounded by people she loved.
If only she could bottle this moment. If only she could drink from it in the days to come, to remember this feeling of warmth and wholeness and joy. As if all of her pieces had come back together, far stronger than they had been before she had broken.
She realized this was her family now. That there were bonds that ran deeper than blood.
All too soon, the B and B fell quiet.
The soldiers had come and gone. The last of the soup and bread had been devoured, and the dishes were sitting in the wash bin. Candles burned on the kitchen table; the light flickered over Roman’s face as he leaned closer to Iris, whispering in her ear, “Are you ready for bed?”
“Yes,” she said, and her heart pounded. “But perhaps we should wash the dishes first?”
“You’ll do no such thing!” Marisol cried, aghast. “The two of you will go on to bed and enjoy your night.”
“But, Marisol,” Iris was beginning to protest when Roman stood, tugging her upward.
“I won’t hear of it, Iris,” Marisol insisted.
“Nor will I,” Attie said, crossing her arms. “And besides, Roman’s room is ready for you both.”
“What?” Iris panted.
Attie only winked before turning to the wash bin. Marisol shooed them into the hall, where they passed Keegan returning from a quick errand.
The captain gave them a nod and a smirk, and Iris was suddenly sweating as she began to ascend the stairs with Roman.
“Sorry, I’m quite slow,” he said, wincing as he took another step.
Iris held his hand, waiting for him to catch up.
“Do your wounds still hurt?” she asked.
“Not too much,” he replied. “I just don’t want to pull another stitch.”
His response worried her. She had an inkling he was hiding how much his leg bothered him, and she decided that they would have to be careful that night.
They reached Roman’s room. Iris braced herself, uncertain what she would encounter. She stepped inside and gasped.
A host of candles were lit, filling the room with romantic light. Stray flowers had been dropped along the floor and on the bed, which was still a pallet since the mattress was at the infirmary. But it looked like Attie had added a few more blankets to the pile, creating a soft place for them to sleep.
“It’s beautiful,” Iris whispered.
“And much appreciated,” Roman said, shutting the door. “I sadly can take no credit for this. It was all Attie.”
“Then I’ll have to thank her tomorrow,” Iris said, turning to glance at Roman.
His gaze was already fixed on her.
Iris swallowed, feeling awkward. She didn’t know if she should go ahead and undress, or maybe he wanted to undress her. Sometimes his face was hard to read, as if he wore a mask, and before she could reach for the top button of her jumpsuit, he spoke.
“I have a request, Winnow.”
“Gods, Kitt,” she said before she could stop herself. “What now?”
The corner of his mouth lifted, amused. “Come and sit next to me on our bed.” He walked past her and knelt on the pile of blankets, careful of his leg as he situated himself with his back against the wall.
Iris followed but chose to unlace and remove her boots before she stepped on the blankets. She helped Roman with his, and so that was the first article of clothing removed between them. Their shoes.
She settled beside him. His heat began to seep into her side, and she realized how brilliant this was going to be, sleeping next to him every night. She would never get cold again.
“All right, Kitt,” she said. “What is your request?”
“I would like you to read something to me.”
“Oh? And what is this something?”
“One of your letters.”
That caught her by surprise. She cracked her knuckles but thought it was only fair of her to return the favor to him. “Yes, all right. But only one. So choose wisely.”
He smiled down at her, his hand reaching to the floor beside the pallet.
“You keep my letters at your bedside?” she asked.
“I reread most of them every night.”
“You do?”
“Yes. Here it is. This is the one,” he said, handing her a very wrinkled piece of paper.
She smoothed the creases from the letter, skimming a few lines. Ah yes. This one. Iris cleared her throat, but she glanced up at Roman before she began. He was intently watching her.
“There’s one stipulation, Kitt.”
“I can’t look at you while you read,” he surmised, remembering his own dilemma.
Iris nodded and he shut his eyes, leaning his head against the wall.