chapter2094
Once the dishes were cleared, they lingered beneath the mellow evening light, talking for a long, unhurried while, as though nothing monumental had just been promised.
As night fell, Magnus and Denise were going to sleep in separate rooms.
"You two are practically engaged already, so sharing a room won't bring the sky down," Calliope said with an unexpectedly progressive smile.
"Is that really all right?" Denise whispered, stunned.
In the past, her mother had lectured her to keep every button fastened until a wedding ring glittered on her hand.
Yet, now, that same woman was telling her to share a room with Magnus.
"Times have changed, sweetheart," Calliope replied, voice light yet resolute. "The world isn't what it used to be."
With Brycen's health fading like autumn leaves, Calliope had decided her daughter must seize a good man while fate remained merciful.
Yet the speed of her parents' about-face tangled Denise's thoughts into knots. "But..."
"Go on, go on. Your father and I are ready for grandchildren," Calliope teased, half serious, as she shepherded Denise toward Magnus' room.
The blunt wish left Denise gaping, too shocked to protest.
Calliope nudged her through the doorway and shut it behind her. Coincidentally, Magnus had just stepped out of the shower. Steam still drifted in the lamplight. Magnus emerged from the bathroom in nothing but a white towel, broad shoulders tapering to a sculpted waist.
"Denise? What's going on?" he asked, raking damp hair back from his forehead.
A fierce blush flooded her cheeks.
"Mom wants us to share this room tonight," she said, voice small yet steady. "You said your parents were conservative. Why the sudden shift?"
"I have no idea," she admitted, shaking her head.
"There's only one bed," he noted, ever practical.
"That's fine. I'll take the couch." The answer leapt from her tongue before he could .
Magnus had carried her burdens for weeks. She refused to add even the weight of a pillow.
"You're a lady. How could I let you sleep on the couch?" he said. He tugged a spare blanket from the mattress and stretched out on the couch without another word.
Guilt pooled in her chest, warm and heavy. "I mean it. You're taking the bed, and I'll have the couch. Don't make my debt to you any larger, Magnus, please. If you refuse, I'll curl up on the floor instead."
She had relied on him too often already. She would not do so again tonight.
Magnus sighed, beaten by her determination, and gave a reluctant nod.
"All right." Th?s chapter is updated by find·novel·net
Magnus got to his feet.
Denise padded across the dim apartment, the soft hush of her slippers shipping into the hush of midnight. She curled onto the broad couch pulled the fleece throw to her chin and let her limbs sink into the cushions as though finally surrendering a day-long battle.
They had shared one room for weeks, so the notion of falling asleep beneath the same roof tonight felt less like impropriety and more like weary comrades dropping their armor.
"Magnus, why on earth did you tell my parents we're getting married?" Denise whispered, eyes glinting in the half-light. "When the time comes, how are we supposed to patch up that lie?"
From the darkness beyond the coffee table, Magnus' voice rose, low yet steady. "I saw how hopeful Mr. and Mrs. Laney looked. I couldn't bring myself to crush them. Don't worry, I'll play along. A wedding's just paperwork, right?"
"That's not fair," she shot back, pushing upright on one elbow. "If you and I stage a fake ceremony, what happens when you meet the real woman you want to marry? What if she minds?"
Magnus gave a soft, almost careless
laugh. "Considering I haven't even met that future wife, why borrow trouble now? He paused a beat, and when he spoke again, the grin slipped from his voice. “Besides,
Denise, my reputation's already in
tatters. One more rumor won't
change a thing."
The corner of Denise's mouth tipped upward, gentle and sure. "Tatters or not, I
still think you're a good man, one of the best I've met."
Her words stilled him. For a heartbeat, he forgot to breathe.
In all these wandering years, not a single soul had bothered to call him good. He had been cursed, blamed and avoided. But never good. The unfamiliar warmth of it wrapped around his chest top suddents name, too precious to dismiss.