Chapter 6 - The Symphony of the LivingSix months later, the spring sun was streaming through the spotless, streak-free windows of the Royce estate, casting warm, golden pools of light across the polished marble floors of the grand foyer.
Outside, the tulips along the driveway were bursting in brilliant shades of red and yellow, fed by the April showers and tended by a gardening crew that Ruby had personally vetted for maximum cheerfulness.
Inside, the house was a symphony of glorious, chaotic noise.
From the music room came the unmistakable, enthusiastic sound of someone playing a completely unauthorized, highly energetic jazz rendition of Chopsticks on the white grand piano—an instrument that hadn't been uncovered from its white sheet in over half a decade.
Edward Royce stood in the doorway of the music room, holding two cups of coffee, leaning his shoulder against the mahogany frame and watching the scene unfold with a quiet, abiding peace that still felt miraculous to him.
At the piano bench sat Olly and Liam, side by side, hammering out the treble notes with joyful abandon, their laughter bouncing off the high ceilings.
Standing behind them, coaching their hand placement while wearing a brand-new apron that proudly declared CHIEF MOP OFFICER, was Ruby.
She looked up, catching Edward’s reflection in the high-gloss lacquer of the piano lid. Her dark eyes crinkled at the corners, and she flashed him a bright, crooked grin.
"Hey, Mr. CEO," Ruby called out over the clatter of the keys. "Are you just going to stand there looking handsome, or are you going to bring me my caffeine before I stage a labor strike?"
Edward chuckled, walking into the room and handing her one of the mugs. He didn't wear a tie today; his sleeves were rolled up, and the heavy lines of exhaustion that had carved themselves into his face for four long years were completely gone, replaced by the relaxed, easy lines of a man who had finally remembered how to breathe.
"Labor strikes are illegal for executive consultants," Edward noted smoothly, wrapping his free arm around her waist from behind and pulling her back against his chest.
Ruby leaned back into him with a contented sigh, sipping her coffee. "Sue me. My union rep is a six-year-old with a plastic hockey stick."
"I heard that!" Olly shouted from the piano bench without missing a beat, pounding out a final, triumphant chord that echoed through the room. "And my legal representation says you have to take us for ice cream after lunch!"
"Objection sustained," Edward laughed, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the top of Ruby’s head, right where the pink headband held back her curls.
Liam scrambled off the piano bench, running over to tug on Edward’s trouser leg. "Dad, can Ruby do the statue voice again? The one where the old lawyer complains about the dust?"
Edward looked down at his youngest son—the boy who had spent two years in absolute silence, and now talked constantly about hockey stats, cartoon physics, and the humorous shortcomings of sixteenth-century masonry.
"I don't know, buddy," Edward teased, glancing sideways at Ruby. "Do you think our resident dramatic artist is in the mood for classical theater?"
Ruby turned in Edward’s arms, her hands resting comfortably on his chest, her dark eyes dancing with mischief and deep, unconditional love.
"Only if the audience promises to clean their rooms afterward," Ruby declared, pointing a finger at the twins.
Olly and Liam groaned in mock horror, then bolted down the hallway toward the stairs, laughing all the way, their bright voices echoing through the grand corridors of a house that was no longer a monument to the past, but a sanctuary for the future.
Edward watched them go, then turned his gaze back down to the woman in the pink jumpsuit who had walked into his life with a glittery sneaker and a ridiculous mop, and completely rewired his entire world.
He didn't say anything for a long moment. He didn't need to. The quiet between them wasn't the suffocating, freezing silence of a vault anymore. It was the comfortable, breathing quiet of two people who knew that no matter what storms raged outside, they had finally found their safe harbor.
"You know," Edward murmured softly, his gray eyes shining with an intensity that made her breath hitch, "the statute of limitations on your cleaning contract expired months ago. I think we need to renegotiate your title."
Ruby raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk touching her lips. "Oh? And what title do you have in mind, Mr. Royce?"
Edward smiled—that rare, brilliant smile that belonged only to her—and pulled her just a fraction closer.
"Wife, partner, co-conspirator, and permanent queen of the castle," Edward whispered, pressing his lips to hers in a slow, sweet kiss that tasted like coffee, morning light, and forever. "Take your pick."
May you like
Ruby kissed him back, her fingers tangling in the soft hair at the nape of his neck, knowing with absolute certainty that she had finally found the one place in the universe where she truly belonged.
"I'll take all of them," she whispered against his mouth. "Starting right now."
