He grins faintly, tugging me closer and guiding my head onto his chest. “Means I take care of you. Love you. Adore you. Probably fuck you like I might never get the chance again until we’re old and gray?—”
I push against his firm hold and press my hand against his chest. “I’m being serious.”
Chris’s grin fades. A flicker of confusion replaces it, pulling at his brows. “What’s going on,baby?”
I stare at his abs, tracing the faint scars there, the stories I still don’t know. My voice comes quieter. “I love you. More than it should be possible to love someone.”
“I know.” He says it so easily, so matter-of-factly, like it’s the simplest truth in the world.
“But I also love my career,” I continue, the words catching in my throat. “The work I do… It’s not just a job to me. It’s… everything. It’s how I make sense of what’s going on in the world.”
He tenses, just slightly, but enough so I feel it under my palm. But his voice stays gentle. “I would never ask you to give that up.”
“I know you wouldn’t,” I whisper. “That’s why I’m asking.”
“Reese…”
“What does our marriage look like,” I ask, the question spilling out before I can stop it, “if I’m traveling the world for a story and you’re running missions on the other side of it?”
There’s a long silence. Just the sound of the rain and our breathing.
I finally lift my eyes to meet his. He’s watching me, unreadable, his expression a careful stillness I’ve come to recognize.
He sits up, pulling me with him. His large hands cup my face, his fingers warm against my skin as they dust over my jaw. The moonlight hits his eyes, turning them to a shade between gray and blue—a storm caught mid-break.
“Baby,” he exhales softly, “I saw what you did. What yougaveto make that story happen. I know what that part of you looks like. I would never ask you to stop chasing the truth.”
I open my mouth, but he keeps going, his voice low but certain.
“I can run my company from anywhere. I don’t have to be in Chicago. That’s why I have Abby. She keeps the operation going when I’m gone. I can fly to you on a whim, stay where you are. Hell, I’ll carry your fucking camera bag if it means being with you.”
A quiet laugh escapes me.
Chris brushes his thumb along my cheek. “You are the most important thing to me, Reese. You always will be. The rest—I can make it work.”
I want to believe him. I do.
But the images still play in my mind—the places I’ve gone, the people I’ve chased, the danger that follows my stories. I’ve built my life on movement, on throwing myself into chaos and digging until I find truth buried within it. Chris has lived in the shadows, orchestrating control, protecting what he loves by never letting his guard down.
Can we really build something steady between two people who’ve spent their lives running toward opposite things?
He must read the hesitation on my face, because his fingers tighten slightly around my jaw, his gaze fierce now. “Hey,” he presses. “What’s really eating at you?”
I breathe in slowly. “You say it like it’s simple.”
“Itissimple.”
“No.” I shake my head. “It’s not. It’s late-night flights and dangerous places. It’s months apart and too many miles. It’s wondering if I’ll pick up the phone one day and you won’t be on the other end.”
His expression softens. “You will worry about all of that, eating MREs in the desert or sitting in this big empty house alone. Just like I’ll worry about you every time you walk out that door to chase a lead. But never once would I stop you. You’d suffocate without it. Same as I would.”
“I’m scared,” I admit, looking away. “Not of marrying you. Of losing myself in it.”
He lets out a slow exhale, pressing his forehead to mine. “You won’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I won’t let you.”
