Her chin lifted an inch. She pointed to the steaming locomotive. “My train.” She cocked her head toward my cousins. “My family.” Her hand drifted to my chest. “My husband.” She gripped my tie and yanked me closer. “And my choice. If I can protect the things I love most in this world, I will not hide just because I am afraid of what might take them away.” There was absolutely no arguing with that, and she smiled knowingly. That little smirk that made me foolish. Fuck. I was so in love with her—and I think she just confessed . . . she loved me, too.
