With a smile, Izzy rushed through the entryway.
And then she froze in place, awestruck.
“Oh,” she breathed. “Oh, Ransom.”
“Now, don’t start complaining about girlish treatment. I know you’re too old to be given a purple room with golden stars. But I also know it was a dream of yours, once. I thought you might want to give it to our children instead.”
Izzy pressed a hand to her chest, overwhelmed. The room was beautiful. A cradle with purple quilted bedding, draped with clouds of tulle. A plush carpet of twining vines and lush blooms. Rows and rows of bookshelves. And on the ceiling were painted silver moons and golden stars. Even a comet or two.
On closer look, a few of those celestial objects appeared a bit less precise than the others—uneven and smudged in places. Hardly in line with the exacting standards Ransom imposed on all their workmen.
But in her heart, Izzy knew the explanation for those less-than-perfect stars.
Those must be the ones he’d painted himself.
He shuffled his feet. “You’re not saying anything.”
“I’m overwhelmed. There are times when even a writer can run out of words.” She sniffed back a tear and hugged him as tight as her swelling belly would allow. “Thank you. I love you. This is the best gift I can imagine.”
In fact, it was the gift she’d been imagining all her life. Now it was real. They would give their children this magical room, set in their very own castle. But more important than that, they would give their children love. And security.
And stories. Night after night of stories.
This was the true fairy-tale ending. He’d given her the “happily” part the day they’d agreed to marry. This room was the “ever after.”
And the best part of all?
So many years stood between them and “The End.”