Muse
She wondered some days, most days if she was being honest, if he thought of her. If he even remembered her. The girl from the island. The place he'd sought as sanctuary, where she had found him standing in the rain, outside her quaint little inn.
Weeks he had stayed, her persistent, dark-haired, thorn in the side. He was sharp-tongued and had ran out more than one other guest. Their bickering only grew more heated by the day and she was on the cusp of throwing him out on his posh-clad bum during one particularly loud row when he pulled her to him and silenced her with a toe-curling kiss.
The next morning, she woke up in his arms, warm and content, sharing kisses and happier than she could ever remember feeling.
But the feeling wasn't to last.
Two weeks later he vanished from her life without any warning. Just a note on her pillow.
Forgive me.
William.
oOo
One year to the day that he had found himself soaking wet staring up at the small inn he'd only anticipated as his refuge for a single night, he stood outside the same inn, warm and dry. With little yellow flowers in the box windows, white shutters, bright coral door, the inn had not changed a bit.
Picking up his bag, he straightened his collar and let himself inside, the litling bell above the door announcing his entrance.
"Hello! How can I help you..." Her greeting trailed off as she looked up from her ledger. The pen dropped from her hand.
"Hello, Molly."
She gathered herself and took a shaky breath. "What are you doing here?"
"I missed you." At her dubious look, he withdrew a paperback novel from his pocket. "And I wanted to give you this."
He placed it on the counter between them. Her eyes watched him carefully and he prayed fervently she would give him a chance.
He breathed out in relief when she picked it up. The cover showed a dark-looking inn and a silhoutted woman in Victorian dress.
"The Innkeeper's Secret," she read. Her fingers brushed the embossed font and her eyes fell on the author beneath. "W.S.S. Holmes."
"You inspired me. I was at the end of myself, depressed and facing deadlines and ruin, when I found myself outside your door." He moved slowly around the counter. "You saved me, Molly."
Her eyes filled with tears, dropping onto the book. "So why did you leave?"
He lifted her chin with his finger and cursed every tear he caused. "Because I was a coward. I had run away from my life and found you. But suddenly you were becoming more important to me than everything I'd left behind. And it scared me."
"And now?"
"Now?" He took her free hand in his. "The only thing that scares me is a life without you. My muse. My innkeeper. My Molly."
He took a chance and leaned down, his lips brushing hers softly. It was only when she wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss that he let himself believe it was real. That the future he dreamed of from the moment he met her was possible.
oOo
She would read it later. After they had talked and kissed some more, when the morning sun was rising, spilling over her bed as he slumbered beside her.
That first page of his novel, the dedication, would dispel any remaining doubts she had that she held his heart.
For the woman who saved me. I love you.
