Chapter 38 - The Firelight Evening
Thursday night brought an abrupt drop in temperature, prompting us to light our first major fire of the autumn season in the grand stone hearth of the master library.
The room was bathed in the warm, dancing orange glow of crackling oak logs. We sat together on the deep velvet sofa, our legs tangled under a cashmere throw, watching the flames leap against the blackened hearth stones.
Adrien was reading a thick volume on maritime history, while I was organizing our personal photo albums—not the old, dangerous archives of Manhattan, but the new collection filled with pictures of the estate, our walks on the beach, the village festivals, and our quiet life by the sea.
“Look at this one,” I said softly, pointing to a snapshot of Adrien smiling on the rocky shore during our first summer here. “You actually look relaxed.”
Adrien set his book aside, looking down at the photo before shifting his gaze to me. “I didn't know how to relax back then. I thought peace was just a temporary truce between wars.”
“And now?”
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“Now I know this is the destination,” he answered, taking the album from my hands and setting it on the coffee table before pulling me into his lap. “Everything before this was just the cost of admission.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my face against his shoulder as the fire crackled and the wind whispered softly against the windowpanes.
