Epilogue
Five Months Later
“Wow,” London said as she stepped into Spencer’s apartment on Valentine’s Day. Her breath caught. “Holy cow, look at those flowers.”
“I thought you might appreciate them.”
She moved straight into his arms, hugging him tight. “That’s very sweet of you. And I want to say predictable, but you’re actually not. The old Spencer would’ve gotten me chocolate. The new one”—she tipped her head at the massive bouquet—“goes sentimental.”
“They’re the flowers that were outside the balcony at the inn we stayed at in Maine.”
Her jaw dropped. “Get out!” She smacked his arm, her eyes wide. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. I wouldn’t lie to you.”
“I believe you,” she said softly.
“Check the bag.”
She ran her fingers over the petals first. Slow, as if she needed to make sure they were real. Then she reached behind the vase and pulled out the crinkled grocery bag.
A laugh burst out of her. “Chips and chocolate.”
“The exact ones we ate that night too.”
Her heart thudded so hard she felt it in her throat. Her bottom lip wobbled. She hated crying and always had, but the tears came anyway, unbothered by her usual rules. Just like her love for him was done hiding.
“The biggest, bestest hero ever,” she whispered. “I had no idea you remembered that.”
“Guess I’m the emotional, sentimental one now.”
“That’s right.” She sniffed the petals some more. “Hero is also getting Noelle to cut her crap until she left last month. I really appreciated that.”
“That was work. Today isn’t. Today is for us. The day for lovers.”
She looped her arms around his neck, her eyebrows wiggling some. “So… when can we be lovers tonight?”
“Soon,” he said, smirking. “You didn’t comment on me being all soft and emotional on Valentine’s Day.”
“I didn’t think you needed me to, but fine, I’m impressed. Extremely. Should I gush? Or brag to my siblings about how it’s supposed to be done right?”
“I won’t be embarrassed if you do those things,” he said, lifting his chin. “I want you to remember it. All of it. Just like I will.”
He eased out of her arms.
“Hey. No.” She grabbed for him. “Get back here. We’re supposed to be lovers now.”
“We will,” he said. “God, you’ve got no patience.”
“Nope. And you love that about me.”
“And you love that I’ve got too much.”
“Just as much as I love this playful side of you.” She let him guide her to the couch. He nudged her to sit.
Then he dropped to the floor.
Not on the floor.
On one knee.
Her breath stopped.
“You look shocked,” he said, smiling up at her.
“What are you doing?” she asked as if he were a rattlesnake getting ready to sink his fangs into her ankle. Not that she was fearful of this, just unsure that it was really happening.
“Laying it all out,” he said quietly. “And hoping to hell you don’t turn me down.”
“I’m not going to.” Her head was shaking.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring. Not flashy. Not loud. A clean, bright solitaire that glowed without screaming.
It was gorgeous.
It was perfect.
It was them—his steadiness, her fire.
“I love you, London. I love everything you bring out in me, everything I bring into your life. I can’t imagine a day you’re not in mine giving me grief, pushing my buttons, then kissing me after. I want a lifetime of that. Will you give it to me? Will you be my wife?”
“Yes,” she said instantly. “I’ll gladly keep giving you grief. And dragging feelings out of you. The same way you drag mine out. For a lifetime. As long as it’s with you.”
He slid the ring onto her finger, then tugged her clean off the couch so she toppled onto him on the floor. He wrapped his arms around her and held tight.
“I think we came to an agreement without fuss,” he murmured against her neck.
She laughed, breathless, happy, and already kissing him. “The best one we’ve ever made.”
The End!
Check out the next in the series, Protecting Love
He keeps her safe. She breaks down his walls.
After twenty years with the FBI, a brutal divorce, and custody of his teenage son, Fletcher Wilcox has finally found stability as Head of Security for one of Manhattan’s wealthiest men. He's calm, controlled and predictable.
Until Paris Westerly becomes his assignment.
Elegant, guarded, and far too tempting, Paris doesn’t want a shadow—or the grumpy, overprotective man determined to keep her safe from a workplace threat.
Forced together, sparks fly. Every argument crackles. Every glance lingers a little too long. Fletcher knows crossing the line could cost him his career, his stability, and the life he rebuilt for his son.
But resisting Paris might be the one battle he can’t win.