CHAPTER 39
Sybil
Everything was technicolor.
In a few short months, nothing resembled the look or feel of life before now. My clothes were amazing. I looked amazing. I was working out again, having more sex than a fictional character, and was planning an art heist.
Stab me with a fork, I’m done.
The only thing that could make this moment better was telling Nash I loved him.
He was infuriating me. I was about to tie him down and stuff a sock in his mouth.
I’d make him relent and let me say it. I’m not sure what goal he had in mind, but it wasn’t a game I liked.
Tying him down, though? That could be fun.
The feelings I had for him were bubbling over, a suppressed set of words becoming so heavy with meaning that I would explode if I didn’t get them out. I was near the point of blurting it into existence, like right here and now in the car with Bee as witness.
Bee banked around a dark hidden street corner, narrowly making it. My nails sought traction on the leather of the backseat. Another man yelled at us from the sidewalk.
It was clear to me why Bee never drove. She was a hot mess behind the wheel. Mustard streaked down the window on my side where a man had thrown a hot dog at us a few blocks back. I’m certain the sacrificed wiener saved his life.
After a few more harrowing turns, and narrowly missed pedestrians and bikers, we came to a screeching halt in the alley the GPS had led us into.
Nash’s face looked pale and sick. “Jesus, Bee. Announce our arrival, would you?” he chided.
Bee laughed once, unamused. “You’re an idiot if you think he doesn’t already know we’re here. He’s probably tracking my phone at this point.”
Looking out the window, a large warehouse loomed over us. Rust crept up the metal siding from the base where it sat against the wet cement. Dim light glittered off the pavement in the dark.
She threw her silver Porsche into park. Nash and Bee exited the front before retrieving me from the back; I was the only one who could fit back there.
Nash grabbed the duffel bag from the trunk, and Bee locked her car with a beep as we stepped away and toward the fire escape Nash and I studied on the schematic.
I looked up at the rickety and wet-looking structure, thinking it was a heck of a lot further off the ground than I’d expected. The first ladder was always out of reach. Nash would have to give us a lift to get there.
Feet sloshed in puddles as we moved below the ladder, and Nash offered Bee a boost first. She was better trained for this, grabbing hold of the rail and pulling herself up with ease.
I, on the other hand, was still struggling to accomplish a half pull-up.
When Nash boosted me up next, Bee reached for me, using most of her strength to pull me up with her.
Now standing on the first landing, Nash tossed a rope at me.
I caught it and secured it around a pole over my head before threading it back down to him.
He was far too large for either of us, or even both of us, to pull up.
He’d brought his pulley and ratchet so he could do it himself.
Once up, he untied the rope and stuffed it back in the bag, and then we made our way up the metal escape to the roof.
Stepping onto the slick, algae-covered surface, we found the door to the stairs leading into the building. Trying the handle, I found it locked.
Nash passed Bee her lock-picking kit. She’d shown it to me this week and let me practice with it a few times, but I was terrible at it. I wasn’t sure patience was my thing. With practice, though, I hoped I could someday be as good as her.
Bee knelt before the door and began picking the lock.
Nash slung his arm around my shoulder, pulling me against him.
I leaned my cheek against the side of his chest, right in the crook of his arm—my favorite spot to find heat.
It took her a few minutes to figure it out, but soon the rusty lock gave and the door opened on stiff hinges.
It squealed and whined, with the light from the roof pouring in.
Bee peered in first. “Shit.”
“Shit, what?” Nash whispered.
“The stairs are destroyed.”
“What do you mean, destroyed?”
Bee let out an annoyed huff. “Like, not there. We’re going to have to rope down.”
My gaze locked on Nash, my eyes wide with excitement. A huge grin stretched across my face, pulling at the corners of my mouth. “You mean I get to rappel?”
He shook his head, rolling his eyes.
We’d practiced this, and not because we planned for it, but because I wanted to know how to rappel like a movie thief would, like The Rat Man did. I had visions of Marvel’s Black Widow swinging through a glass window to save the day.
He’d taught me in the townhouse’s stairwell, starting from the second floor, and working my way up to the top. I’ve never laughed so hard in my life.
Bee had watched, sipping her wine and sitting below on the floor with Mr. Beans, a smile plastered on her face. I’d marked up their walls with my shoes, but Nash promised it was worth it to see me that happy. There was even mention of installing a rock-climbing wall in the future.
We set up the rope, securing it to a sturdy pole on the roof. Bee went first, repelling into the warehouse with expert grace and silence. The darkness sucked her in; the rope taut for several minutes as she descended, then loosened, then tugged twice to signal it was our turn.
To make it quick, Nash hooked himself up to the rope before picking me up, as though I were nothing, and securing me to his front. I wrapped my legs around him and locked my ankles behind his back. He buckled a tandem strap around my waist for added support.
We navigated through the door and into the darkness. After getting over the ledge and against the wall, Nash slowly lowered us one hand at a time, arms strained. We had what I estimated to be ten stories to descend. Our feet pushed us away from the wall and back, creating a gentle swinging motion.
“You look so sexy right now,” I whispered.
His arms glistened with sweat, veins popping with effort. His jaw was clenched in concentration, and the hat. God, I loved hats on him. I could just make out his eyes in the dim light under the bill, and it was delicious.
He found my gaze, smirking. I wrapped my arms further around his neck.
I could feel his sweat as I ran my hand down the back of his head.
Admiring every detail of his face, I cataloged the way it looked in this moment.
He had a few gray hairs in his goatee, reminding me of stars in the night sky.
My fingers trailed over his ear, holding his attention.
“I lov—”
The rope released, dropping us two feet. Then halted.
I shrieked.
He’d done it on purpose to stop me from talking. I smacked his chest in annoyance, making us swing.
He chuckled, shushing me. “Don’t scream.”
I pressed my forehead into his chest, breathing hard. “Don’t do that!”
We hung suspended for a moment, gasping for air. We were halfway down. I knew holding us there was hard for him, but it was the perfect moment. If I kept trying, he’d be too tired to stop me again.
I looked up at him, pleading. “Would you quit stopping me? I love you, okay?” I rushed out.
He searched my eyes, pupils blown large at the words.
I placed my hand on his chest, saying it again, “I love you so much, Nash. It hurts.” Emotion choked me, tears immediately forming. “I’m so glad you found me. I’m so—”
He swung himself forward around the rope, his breath fanning across my face before he took my mouth in his and kissed me. The kiss was feverish and desperate, lasting as long as it could before breathing took precedence.
I held the back of his head with one hand, the other on his chest, feeling his breaths rise and fall. Pulling away, I noticed a lump under his shirt, against his chest. I fingered it through the cotton, my brow furrowed. “What is this?”
“Pull it out,” he struggled to say, nearly gassed, with sweat glistening down his cheek.
I followed his instructions, fumbling to pull the chain from his shirt in the awkward position. As it came free, light exploded across the stairwell, like a miniature disco. A diamond caught and scattered the faint light, sparkling all around us.
I gasped, my legs clenching tighter around him.
“Marry me,” he huffed out.
An explosive feeling rocked me—the most colorful feeling I’d ever experienced. My mouth fell open. The ring rolled in my hand, suspended from the chain, the most beautiful ring I’d ever seen.
Entranced by the glittering and intricate antique design, I didn’t even realize we were descending.
His feet hit the floor. I moved so I could slide off his hips and stand up.
I felt the belt holding me to Nash unclip and fall away as he dropped to one knee in front of me.
Pulling the necklace over his head, he unfastened the chain and removed the ring.
Pinched in his fingers, he held it up to me. “Marry me,” he repeated, catching his breath.
My hands were shaking, but I gave him my left ring finger.
He slid it on. I was nodding the entire time, unable to speak, but expressing my agreement in every way I could.
Nash shot to his feet, grabbing and spinning me in the dim space.
I caught a blurred glimpse of Bee as we spun. She was jumping with excitement.
On our second spin, I noticed the single light in the room.
On the third, I saw two pieces of very familiar art propped beneath it, set up with dramatic flair.
Nash finally stopped and set me down. Bee was standing beside the art, but abandoned it to crash into me, throwing her arms around my neck and tearing with joy.
That’s when the slow clap started.