Page 119 of World's Okayest Oracle (Reluctantly) Seeks Demon

And then Eloise was gone, along with the Fate.

Gwen took Hugh into her own arms. Held him as he grappled with the joy and pain of encountering his beloved twin once more, finally getting his chance to express his abiding love for her—and then saying goodbye again.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered at one point, shudders racking his frame, and Gwen gently shushed him.

She was more than willing to stand there in the courtroom as long as he needed. Besides, she was still struggling with her own overwhelming emotions. Somehow, she and Hugh—not to mention the other oracles—had avoided seemingly inevitable deaths. She could scarcely even allow herself to believe it, and only the heat of Hugh’s smooth skin, the wiry strength in his arms, made anything about this moment feel real to her.

“Gwen…” Once they’d both regathered their composure, he eased her back far enough to meet her eyes. “I don’t know if this is the right moment, but…”

She gazed warily up at him, unsure of what he intended to say.

“You know what? Fuck it.” His amber eyes flared with heat and resolve, and he grasped both her hands in his. “I don’t want to wait, and only the gods and goddesses know what lies ahead of us. I’m seizing this moment.”

Based on her history with human men, including her unborn child’s biological father, she had two main guesses as to what was happening: Hugh either wanted to break up or have sex right there in the courtroom. The first option would break her heart. The second would probably break her spine…and also get them sent directly to their afterlives. No lines, no waiting.

That said, if he was raring to go, she supposed—

“I meant what I said in that capsule. I love you like…” Hugh’s mouth worked as he searched for the right words. “Like parched summer fields love the rain. Like honeybees love flowers. Like…um…” He unexpectedly snorted. “Like you love cheese.”

She stood stock-still, trying to make sense of his words.

He wasn’t…he wasn’t abandoning her? Now that the adrenaline of imminent danger had passed, now that they were fully clothed and entirely vertical…he still loved her? Every bit as much as she still loved him?

The blink of her blurry eyes sent a tear slipping down her cheek. Then another.

He bent his head to kiss them away and continued speaking. Continued asking for her heart, even though it was already his.

“I want you by my side for the rest of my life, no matter how few or many years that might entail.” His grip on her handstightened. “Stay with me, Gwen. Marry me. Be my wife and my love until the moment I draw my final breath on this earth.”

The raw ache in his tone, the rough plea, the unguarded affection, arrowed straight to her own parched summer field of a soul. And she wanted so much to say yes, to leap into his arms and rejoice in what they’d so unexpectedly found in each other.

But…had he truly thought any of this through?

It wasn’t a question she’d normally ask of a demon as controlled and detail oriented as Hugh, but here she was. Asking that question. To herself, if not to him.

His lips rested against her temple as he waited for her answer, his hands still clasping hers tightly. When she didn’t respond right away, though, his hold gradually loosened. Then dropped away entirely, leaving her bereft. He straightened, clearing his throat.

“It’s okay if you aren’t ready to say yes, Gwen.” The new caution in his words, his expression, felt like a kick to her gut. “Truly.”

To his credit, he sounded sincere. And despite the embarrassed flush of his ear tips, he maintained steady eye contact as he let her off the hook with his customary thoughtfulness.

And with that, all her concerns about the haste of his commitment to her were whisked away like leaves in a breeze. Because, for goodness’ sake, did she truly think this male—the demon very carefully ensuring her comfort in this conversation, even as he thought she was rejecting his proposal—hadn’t considered the implications of being with her? Was she truly doubting the resolve of Councilor Hugh Blacke, Esquire, the most contemplative, deliberate being she’d ever met?

Or was she doubting herself instead?

“We’ve been together such a short time, and I’m more than happy to court you for as long as you need, until you’re sure. Orif…” He paused. Dropped his gaze, head bowed. “Or if you’ve changed your mind, I won’t importune you or—”

She couldn’t stand another hesitant word. “No. No, of course I haven’t changed my mind.”

“Then…” His amber eyes searched hers, concerned and vulnerable and loving. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Gwen. I can feel that you’re anxious, but I have no idea why.”

The tangle of fear and shame within her had to go, that was clear enough. She couldn’t take it with her into a future with him, and she wanted that future—yearned for it, would work herself to the bone for it—more than anything else in her entire lifetime of struggle.

So she gave that ball of thorny briars to him. Uttered the words that would press it into his hands instead, where he could either carry it for her or toss it aside like the garbage it was.

“I worry I’m not enough for you,” she told him.

There. It was that simple.