Chapter 30 April 16, 2025
-Sadie-
The last sentence stared at them from the tablet’s screen on the desk. The study glowed with the late afternoon light filtering through the tall windows as they stared at the culmination of their months of work.
Sadie leaned forward, studying the words.
She felt like she was saying goodbye to an old friend, a wistfulness settling in her chest. After countless hours spent within these four walls, the arguments, the breakthroughs, and the slow, careful building of trust, Detective Inspector Shaw’s story was complete.
“That’s it, then,” Corbyn said quietly, his voice carrying a strange mix of satisfaction and melancholy that made Sadie’s chest tighten.
His hand still hovered over the screen with the stylus, clearly equally as affected by the end of this chapter of their lives.
Both had been avoiding the topic of what came next, but there would be no hiding from it now.
She watched his profile in the amber light.
The sharp line of his jaw, the way his dark hair fell across his forehead, the slight furrow between his brows that appeared whenever he was feeling something deeply.
She’d memorized these details over the months they had been together, but somehow they still had the power to make her breath hitch.
“Wait,” Sadie said, an idea forming in her mind as she tapped her red pen against her lips. She saw his eyes instantly land on her mouth, and watched as they darkened. “This transition could be smoother. The emotional beat needs more weight.”
She shifted her chair closer to his, the wheels catching slightly on the worn Persian rug, using the capped end to point to a particular spot on the screen.
She was close enough that their shoulders brushed, sending a familiar tingling sensation through her body.
“What if Shaw’s final thought connects back to the opening chapter? Full circle?”
Corbyn considered this, his head tilting in that way that meant he was truly listening and not just waiting to argue.
She had learned to tell the difference, unlike their early days.
He picked up the stylus, and Sadie smiled at how natural the action had become.
It was no longer the foreign object he’d glared at with suspicion, but a tool he’d mastered, just as he’d learned so many new things these past months.
“Like this?” he asked, writing the revision directly on the tablet screen with fluid strokes. His handwriting had evolved, too. It was less cramped, as if the stress and tension of trying to find the perfect prose had somehow eased during their partnership.
“Perfect, but…” Sadie found herself leaning across him to point at the tablet, drawn by an invisible force she’d stopped fighting.
Her body angled over his arm, which brushed against her side, sending a shiver down her spine.
She could feel the warmth radiating from him, the solid presence that had become her anchor.
“Actually, can you move that part down one line? It’ll give the revelation more breathing room. ”
She stood, her arm coming to rest on his shoulder as she ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.
The arm of the chair pressed against her hip, and she was acutely aware of every point of contact between them.
When she leaned forward again to suggest another small change, Corbyn’s right arm came around her waist, and she felt her breath catch.
“Come here,” he murmured, his voice dropping to that low register that never failed to make her knees weak.
Before she could protest—not that she wanted to—he’d pulled her into his lap.
She found herself facing the desk, her back against the solid wall of his chest. When her hand came to rest on his wrist, she could feel his pulse, quick and strong, betraying the calm facade he presented to the world.
His breath stirred the hair at her temple, and she had to close her eyes for a moment, the combination of the rightness of the moment and the uncertainty about the future threatening to overwhelm her.
“This is hardly professional,” she said, though her protest was thoroughly undermined by the way she immediately melted into him, letting the side of her head rest against his cheek.
“Good thing we’re nearly finished then,” he replied, each word sending a warm brush of air that had tingles running through her body.
She felt him smile as he picked up the stylus again with his right hand, his left arm remaining securely around her waist, fingers splayed possessively across her ribs.
When she had first arrived in Great Missenden, she never could have imagined them sitting like this.
Back then, she’d been determined to maintain professional distance despite the inexplicable pull she’d felt from their first meeting.
But now it felt as natural as breathing, as right as the final sentence of a perfectly crafted story.
They made the final adjustments together, her suggestions flowing seamlessly with his execution, until the manuscript truly was complete.
When Corbyn finally saved the document and turned off the tablet, silence settled between them, each lost in their thoughts.
They both jumped when the door to the study opened, and Ellie’s excited voice cut through the silence.
“Edie told me you were finishing the book today, so I thought I’d…” Ellie trailed off abruptly as she took in the scene before her. Her eyes widened in surprise, taking in their intimate position with obvious delight. “Oh.”
The single syllable hung in the air, a sly grin spreading across Ellie’s face. Sadie immediately moved to stand, heat flooding her cheeks in a rush at being caught in such a compromising position, but Corbyn’s arm tightened around her waist, holding her in place.
“Stay,” he murmured against her ear, and the combination of his voice and his breath against her skin sent a shiver through her that Ellie definitely noticed—her smirk and arched eyebrow gave her away.
“Behave,” Sadie whispered back, swatting at his hand as he tried to pull her back down. But she was smiling despite her embarrassment, unable to resist his newfound playfulness.
“We’ve just finished the final chapter,” Corbyn told his sister, trying to appear nonchalant, although Sadie could see the slight flush creeping up his neck above his collar.
“I can see that,” Ellie replied, her eyes dancing with undisguised delight as she fully entered the room and closed the door behind her, her gaze fixed on her brother with a wicked little grin.
“Very… collaborative finishing technique you’ve developed there, Corbie.
Is this the sort of thorough editing process they teach in university these days? ”
“Don’t…” Corbyn began, but his protest was doomed from the start.
“Because if so,” Ellie continued blithely, settling herself in the worn leather armchair across from them with the apparent intent to stay, “I might need to reconsider my career path. Medicine suddenly seems terribly dull.”
Sadie bit back a laugh, returning to her chair. Corbyn could growl and grumble all he liked, but she knew he had a soft spot for his sister. They had a dynamic she had come to enjoy watching, Ellie’s sharp wit a match for her own.
“We were working,” Corbyn said with as much dignity as a man could muster while his sister’s grin threatened to split her face in half.
“Oh, I’m sure you were,” Ellie said solemnly. “Tough work, by the looks of it. Quite hands-on. I do hope Sadie’s getting proper compensation for such… dedicated editorial services.”
“Don’t start,” Corbyn warned. Sadie had learned to read the subtle differences in his tone. This was exasperated affection, something that was common when he was dealing with Ellie.
“Start what? I’m impressed by your commitment to the collaborative process,” Ellie laughed, crossing her legs with a triumphant smile. “In fact, I think we should celebrate the completion of the book with a toast!”
“Edie keeps a bottle of good champagne hidden in the back of the refrigerator, ‘just in case,’” Corbyn quoted, glancing over at Sadie, the hint of a smile forming as his shoulders relaxed once more. “She thinks no one knows it’s there.”
“Well, why don’t I get it while you two catch up?” Sadie said, pushing up from the chair to stand. “I think Edie’s still in town shopping, so I won’t have to be too sneaky.”
Heading out of the study, Riley followed her into the kitchen.
When she opened the cabinet door to retrieve three champagne flutes, he nudged her back with his nose, eliciting a laugh.
She turned to look at him, and a little whine escaped him as he looked hopefully in the direction of the tin where Edie kept his dog biscuits.
“You know, handsome, Edie is going to hide these if she catches me sneaking them to you,” she told the dog as she set the glasses down and rewarded him with a treat.
Taking it from her gently, he trotted off back toward the study.
With a shake of her head, she muttered fondly, “Well, I see your loyalty is short-lived.”
For a moment she stood in the middle of the kitchen, soaking in the familiar sights and scents.
The scones Edie had baked that morning sat on the counter under a covered dish, everything in its place exactly as she liked it.
Paul’s toolbox sat by the back door, and her coat was mixed among those of the others on the hooks just above it.
Reality surged through her, and she found herself rapidly blinking back tears. Her assignment was over. She was expected to return to New York, to go back to a life that no longer felt like her own. To leave behind the people who had become her family.