When she finally emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed with her hair damp but combed, Bert stood by the window, his back to her. His shoulders were tense, and he turned the moment he heard her chair.
“Mary, I’m so sorry. I should have made sure the door was latched before I started talking. I didn’t mean to invade your privacy?—”
Mary rolled directly to him, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. “Stop apologizing.”
“But I?—”
“Bert.” She reached up and cupped his face as he leaned down, forcing him to really look at her. “I’m not upset that you saw. I’m upset that I was so afraid for you to see.”
His expression shifted, understanding and something that might have been relief moving across his features.
“I have scars,” she said. “Lots of them. From the accident, from the surgeries, from everything that happened after. And I’ve been so afraid that you’d see them and realize what you were signing up for. That you’d look at me and see damaged goods instead of someone you wanted.”
“That’s not what I saw,” Bert said, his voice rough. He moved closer, one hand sliding into her hair while the other gripped the arm of her wheelchair. “Do you want to know what I saw when I looked at you?”
Mary nodded, not trusting her voice.
“I saw you. The woman I love. The strongest person I know. And yes, I saw your scars. But Mary, those scars just prove how much you’ve survived. How hard you’ve fought. How incredible you are.” His thumb stroked her cheekbone, and his eyes held hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Mary. Every inch of you. Scars and all.”
Mary felt tears prick her eyes. “You mean that.”
“I’ve never meant anything more.” Bert leaned down and kissed her, soft and reverent and full of promise. “I love you. Your strength, your courage, your determination. Your body that carried you through hell and brought you out the other side. All of it. That’s what I see when I look at you.”
They kissed again, deeper this time, Mary’s arms wrapping around Bert’s neck as she pulled him closer. She poured everything she felt into the connection. All of her gratitude, relief, hope, and love. So much love it felt like her chest might burst with it.
Still kissing, she felt as though she was floating in the air. With his arms banded around her waist and her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, he’d lifted her out of the chair. Her legs dangled, and she wished she could curl them around his hips. But after the few seconds of longing for something her body couldn’t do passed, she immediately fell back under the spell of being in his arms, locked in a soul-freeing kiss.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Bert rested his forehead against hers. “Was this okay? To pick you up?”
“More than okay,” she whispered, her words sliding out on a breath. “I could do this all day.”
He smiled and nodded, then slowly lowered her back into her chair. He arranged her legs with care, placing her feet on the footrests. After another kiss, he groaned, “We really do need to get to breakfast.”
“I know.” Mary didn’t want to move. She wanted to stay in this moment when everything felt perfect and possible. But duty called, and Diane needed them alert and focused. “Give me five more minutes to finish getting ready.”
She moved to the mirror to quickly blow-dry her hair before pulling it back from her face. She was hyperaware of him in the small space, of the way his eyes would track her movements, of the heat that still simmered between them.
When she needed to adjust her position in the chair, Bert was there without being asked, his hands gentle but sure as he helped her shift. And when she reached for her shoes, he knelt to help her put them on.
“I can do that,” Mary said softly, her hand drifting along the back of his neck.
“I know you can.” Bert looked up at her, his expression open and earnest. “But I’m here, so let me help. Not because you need it, but because I want to. Because taking care of you makes me happy.”
Mary’s heart clenched. “Okay.”
He stood and pressed a kiss to her temple. “We’re going to get through today. We’re going to make sure Diane is safe. And then tonight, when we’re alone again, we’re going to continue this conversation about what we mean to each other and where we want this to go. Because Mary, I need you to know that I’m all in. Completely. Whatever adaptations we need to make, whatever we need to figure out together, I’m here for all of it.”
“I’m all in too,” Mary said, meaning it. “I want to figure things out. Soon. Not because I feel pressured, but because I’m done being afraid of disappointing you. I trust you. I trust us. We’ll figure it out together.”
“Soon,” Bert agreed, his smile warm and full of promise. “But first?—”
“First, we figure out what’s going on with Diane and Colin… and maybe George.” Mary straightened in her chair, shifting from vulnerable girlfriend to competent Keeper.
They made their way to the dining room with renewed purpose, their hands linked as Bert pushed her wheelchair with one hand. But Mary was acutely aware that something fundamental had shifted between them this morning. The vulnerability she’d shown, the acceptance Bert had offered, and the mutual promise to figure things out together had deepened their connection in ways that went beyond the physical.
Bert had seen her scars and called her beautiful. Had seen her at her most vulnerable and wanted her anyway. Had proven with actions and words that he meant what he said about being all in, complications and all.
And Mary, who’d spent years being afraid of exactly this moment, felt free in a way she hadn’t since before the accident. Free to want, to hope, to imagine a future when she and Bert figured things out together without fear or shame holding them back.