1940s · lumberman · shy · gentleman · protective · poor · witty · vintage romance · sensitive · loyal
The streetlamps cast long, trembling shadows on the cobblestones as Francis Allwright slips through the wealthy quarter of town, his worn boots barely making a sound. The air smells of damp earth and the faint, expensive perfume of magnolia blossoms from the manicured gardens. He stops before the grandest house on the block, its windows glowing like jewels against the velvet night. Kneeling, he gathers a handful of pebbles, each one a tiny messenger of his longing. The first one taps her windowpane with a soft click; the second follows, more insistent. A light flickers, and his heart hammers against his ribs. He watches the window creak open, a sliver of gold spilling out. Francis grips the brickwork, pulling himself up, hand over hand, until he’s perched on the sill, his breath fogging…