Page 96 of A Match Made in Error

“You realize,” I murmur, voice low, almost rough now, “I don’t know how to do this properly.” No games. No jokes. No running away when things get hard. My forehead dips down to hers, not quite touching, hovering there like I’m still asking for permission. “But I’m not going anywhere,” I add, softer. “So you’re stuck teaching me.”

“You don’t have to know how,” she whispers, her voice warm and steady in a way mine isn’t. “We’ll figure it out.” Her hand lifts, fingers brushing along my jaw like she’s memorizing me the way I’ve been memorizing her. Like she’s choosing me. Fully. Without hesitation. “I’m not going anywhere either,” she adds softly.

That undoes me. Not the words. The certainty. The way she says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Her forehead presses to mine, grounding, real, and I finally let myself fully melt into it. My hand finds her waist, and her lips brush mine first, and I don’t rush it. For once in my life, I don’t take. I feel. The warmth. The quiet. The way everything in me settles instead of igniting. My thumb traces along her side as I kiss her back, slow and deliberate like I’m learning something I don’t want to get wrong. Like I finally understand what this is supposed to feel like.

Not chaos or escape.

Love.

Her.

When we part, it’s only just enough to breathe, our foreheads still pressed together, the space between us nonexistent.

And for the first time in many years, I don’t feel the need to fill the silence.

Because this?

This is enough.

Aoife barrels into sight, a bright and chaotic ball of energy with a stoic Noah trailing happily behind her. She grins like a fox when she sees Poppy. “I can’t believe you two were faking it!” She points a manicured finger in Poppy’s face playfully.

“It was convincing,” Noah adds, hand dipping to rest on his match’s waist. “I’ll give you that.” Aoife’s hand comes to rest on his, a shiny glimmer catching both the light and Poppy’s eye.

Poppy gasps, “What is that?!” and snatches Aoife’s hand.

Aoife giggles. “We’re engaged now.” Poppy blinks, mouth open in joyful shock. “After he killed a pirate for me, I had to have him forever.” Now it’s my turn to blink in shock.

“You killed a man?” I don’t even try to hide my surprise.

“I did too!” Poppy cheers and holds her hand up to high-five him. She’s much more chipper about it now that she knows it was a Moirai simulation.

“He was trying to kill her.” Noah is calm, almost smug. Good for you, man. “I did what must be done. Love will do that.”

“Yeah.” My expression softens. “Love makes you a different man.” Already my mind is reeling with thoughts of what ring would be worthy of resting on Poppy’s dainty finger beside her gold bands for the rest of her life.

“A better man,” Noah adds definitively.

I glance at Poppy, noting the way her head casts back in a laugh and the dying sun casts a beautiful shadow across her chest. “I’m still working on that part.” I watch her with an awe that I’ve never felt before, a kind of pulsing, live thing in my chest. Like she is reflecting back to me the change that love has already made in me.

Noah claps me on the back, and after Poppy embraces Aoife once more, she happily slides back into my arms for another dance. We’re quieter this time, settled into the night and one another.

“You’re improving.” My teasing voice is a low hum against her ear. “You haven’t stepped on my foot once.”

“I should get an award.”

I dip her slightly, catching her off-guard enough that a breathless laugh spills from her lips. When I right her, the music is still blaring, and the fire is still blazing, but after a pirate attack and the emotional turmoil of the last two days, I’m ready to be alone with the love of my life. And the next life. Because I’m not giving her up that easily.

I lean into her, a way that is now reserved for only her. “Come with me.” And she does without question, fingers threaded in mine and tips of her non-pointed ears already blushing.

The Isle of Fate is dark now, the only light coming from the flickering, floating lanterns that dot the path back to our bungalow. I lost my shoes while we were dancing, and now I walk over the cool sand, feeling the slightly damp earth squish between my toes.

Once we get to the bungalow, she rests her back against the door and looks up at me through thick lashes with lust-hooded eyes. “So, what happens now?”

I brace one forearm above her head on the doorjamb as I run the other slowly up her side, starting at her hip and ending with my hand in her hair. “You know what happens next.” She shivers under my touch.

Poppy rests in my hold. “I can’t believe the Festival is over now.”

“We still have the matching ceremony,” I say.