Jo kissed him and got serious. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For what? I’ve not really done anything.” Reaching up, she traced the features she loved so much with her fingertips. “For giving me a home. A proper home.” “Well, this mansion isn’t mine—” “I’m not talking about the building we’re in.” She thought of her lonely childhood, her sense of being lost in the world even as she lived around other people. “More than the answers to who I am, I’ve been searching for a home. You are my home. You, and only you, are my shelter and my comfort.”
