“Youlook gorgeous. Thank you for ... everything, Zander. For staying with me so that I could sleep last night and bandaging my finger. And all the rest of it, too. Years’ and years’ worth.”
He gave her a crooked smile. “You’re welcome.”
He looked like what he was. Honorable. Dedicated. Smart. The lines across his forehead gave faint witness to his years and his hardships.
Wind riffled the trees. Her mouth went dry. “Renoir’s painting came home today,” she said.
“Yes.”
“Thanks to you.”
“Thanks to us,” he corrected.
“Young Woman at Restbelongs here.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“In exactly the same way, you belong with me,” she said. “And I belong with you.”
Hard-fought hope fractured his expression.
Some things simplywere. Like the seasons. The sun and the moon. The tide. She and Zander were like that. They were.
“I love you,” she said.
He stared at her in amazement.
“I love you,” she said again.
He took a step closer, looking determined and more than a little possessive. They were just inches apart.
“You belong with me,” he vowed. “And I belong with you.”
“Yes.”
He set his forehead on hers. They both closed their eyes.
Britt’s chest clutched with rightness and joy.
His fingers lightly cupped the back of her neck. She latched her hands around his wrists, feeling the warmth of his skin.
He pulled away just enough to meet her eyes. “Did you say that you loved me?”
She laughed. “I did.”
“You love me?”
“Yes.”
“You do?” he asked again, as if he needed to make positively certain.
“Yes. I love you, Zander.”
“And you’re never going to tell me you need a break from me again?”
“No. In fact, if you ever decide to finish your Grand Tour, you’re going to have to take me with you.”
“If you love me—”
