“You can’t know that until?—”
“I know that intimacy is about more than just sex.” Bert interrupted gently. “I know that connection happens in a thousand ways. In the way you laugh at my terrible jokes, in how you lean into my touch, in the trust it takes to let me help you with things. That’s intimacy, Mary. That’s what matters. Everything else we’ll figure out together, with no pressure and no expectations except that we communicate and care about each other.”
Mary felt tears slip down her cheeks. “Bert, I can’t move my legs. There would be no adventurous sex positions. What if I can’t?—”
“Then we’ll adapt. We’ll find what works. We’ll be creative and patient and honest with each other.” Bert’s thumbs wiped away her tears, his heart twisting at her anguish. “Mary, I’ve waited a long time for you. I’m not going to walk away because sex might be different from some imaginary normal. I’m here for you. All the complications, all the adaptations, all of it. That’s what partnership means.”
The room was quiet as neither spoke. Their gazes remained pinned on each other, and he held his breath until she finally rolled her lips together before heaving a sigh. “You’re sure?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I’m sure I love you,” Bert declared, his voice steady and certain. “I’m sure I want to build a life with you. I’m sure that whatever challenges we face, we’ll face them together. Everything else is just details we’ll figure out as we go.”
Her shoulders eased as another breath left her body, and her lips curved ever so slightly. “I love you too. I think I have for a very long time. But I was too scared to act on it.”
“Well, I’m saying it now.” Bert pulled her into his arms, careful and gentle. “I love you, Mary Smithwick. Your strength, your intelligence, your determination, your kindness. The way you make me laugh and challenge me and make me want to be better. All of it. That’s what I fell in love with. Not some imaginary version of you that doesn’t have complications. You. Exactly as you are.”
Mary buried her face in his shoulder as the tears fell. Emotions from months of fear and longing and hope swirled between them. Bert held her through it, his hands gentle on her back, his presence solid and unwavering. Whatever she needed, he would willingly give to her.
When she finally pulled back, wiping her eyes, she managed a watery laugh. “I’m a mess.”
He bent to place his hands around her waist. “Come on, sweetheart.”
She had no idea what he was going to do, but would follow his lead wherever it led. She raised her arms and then squeaked when he lifted her to a standing position, his arms around her waist, holding her securely. A gasp slipped from her lips, and she locked her hands behind his neck. He leaned down and kissed her lightly.
“You’re beautiful,” Bert corrected, kissing her forehead. “And brave. And mine, if you’ll have me.”
“I’ll have you,” Mary said. “Every bit of you.”
25
Bert shifted her upward until Mary’s face was closer to his. Her eyes widened, and then her smile beamed toward him. They stayed in that position for a long moment, wrapped in each other, the ship rocking gently beneath them. Outside the window, the harbor of Saint John spread out in the fading light, but Bert’s attention was focused entirely on the woman in his arms.
This was what he’d been afraid to want. What he’d convinced himself he couldn’t have. And now that they’d vowed their love and weren’t running from the complications, he felt like he could finally breathe.
“We should get ready for dinner,” she said eventually, though she made no move to pull away.
“We should,” Bert agreed, but he didn’t let go either.
They continued standing, her held over the floor, safely in his arms, letting the reality of their feelings sink in. There would be time later to deal with Colin and Diane, to finish the mission they’d started.
But right now, at this moment, they were just Mary and Bert. Two people who’d found each other despite fear and complications and all the reasons it might not work.
And that was enough. More than enough. It was everything. He had been in love with her for a long time, but watching her at Cape Enrage Lighthouse, he realized that what he’d felt before was just the beginning. Seeing her face light up as the guide explained the history of the keeper’s cottage, hearing her laugh when a seabird swooped too close and startled them both, feeling her lean into his touch with unconscious trust… this was when he understood the full depth of what love could be.
She was radiant today. There was a lightness to her he hadn’t seen before, a freedom that seemed to come from deep within.
Every moment felt significant. The way she’d turn to share something she’d noticed, her eyes bright with interest. The unconscious way she’d reach for his hand when she wanted his attention. The soft sound of her laughter. He collected the memories like treasures, moments he’d remember when he was old and gray and hopefully still with her.
But more than that, he’d watched Mary observe and assess, tracking Colin’s behavior. Saw the frustration in her eyes when Diane smiled and laughed, unknowing that the nephew she trusted might be unworthy of her trust. He saw Mary’s fierce protectiveness, the same quality that made her such a good Keeper of all the Keepers, now focused on helping someone she’d known for less than a week.
That was Mary. Seeing someone in need and immediately stepping in to help. It was one of the things Bert loved most about her, even as it made him want to wrap her in protective bubble wrap and never let anything bad touch her.
Bert had listened as Mary voiced her fears, her hands twisting in her lap, her voice small in a way that was so unlike her usual confidence. And his heart broke a little at how much she’d been carrying alone, and how she’d convinced herself she might not be enough.
He held her, letting her release the fear and tension she’d been carrying for so long. And at that moment, holding her while she was vulnerable and trusting him with her deepest worries, Bert felt something shift in his chest. The old scars from past failed relationships, the betrayals that had made him cautious and guarded, didn’t define him anymore.
Mary defined him now. Mary and the life they could build together. And that was worth every risk.
Eventually, they had to get ready for dinner, the reality of their situation pressing back in. They had a job to do. Diane needed their help. Colin needed to be stopped. Everything else could wait.