Elena.
The realization hit him like warm sunlight breaking through clouds, and Reed was smiling before his feet even hit the floor. He threw back the covers and pulled on a T-shirt, not bothering with anything else as he padded barefoot toward the stairs.
One week. It had been one week since that night at La Prince, since Webb’s death.
Fortunately, the government had confiscated all of Webb's assets and anything connected to WATCHDOG. Therefore, all contracts on Elena had been cancelled.
Seven days that had felt like both an eternity and the blink of an eye.
The first few days had been hard. Elena had been exhausted in ways that went deeper than physical fatigue—the kind of bone-deep weariness that came from carrying an impossible burden for five years and finally being allowed to set it down. She’d slept a lot. Cried sometimes, when she thought he wasn’t looking. Spent long hours sitting on his back deck, staring out at the lake like she was trying to convince herself it was real.
But she’d recovered quickly. That was Elena—resilient, determined, stronger than anyone he’d ever known. By the fourth day, she’d joined him for their morning runs again, her stride matching his as they circled the lake in companionable silence. By the fifth day, she had laughed at James’s terrible jokes and let Walker’s toddler climb all over her while his wife, Sabrina, looked on with knowing eyes.
Reed hadn’t gone to work all week. His assistant had handled everything at the office, sending him occasional updates that he’d barely glanced at before returning his attention to Elena. To being with her. To remembering what it felt like to have her in his life again.
They’d talked for hours. About everything and nothing—the five years they’d spent apart, the futures they’d imagined, the faith that had sustained Elena through her darkest moments. They’d watched terrible movies on his couch, her head on his shoulder and his arm around her waist. They’d cooked dinner together, bumping elbows in his kitchen and stealing kisses over the cutting board.
Normal. They were finding their way back to something like a normal life.
Reed paused at the bottom of the stairs, his hand moving instinctively to the pocket of the sweatpants he’d thrown on. The small velvet box was there, right where he’d placed it last night after coming home from the jeweler.
He’d bought it yesterday afternoon, slipping away while Elena was video calling with Terrel about some technical matter Reed didn’t pretend to understand. The ring had been sitting in a display case at a small shop in Pike Place Market—a single round diamond on a delicate gold band, elegant in its simplicity. The moment Reed had seen it, he’d known. It was Elena’s ring. It had always been Elena’s ring.
He’d planned to wait. Maybe another week or two, when things had settled more, when the shadow of Webb and WATCHDOG had faded further into the past. He’d imagined taking her somewhere special, but standing here, Reed knew he couldn’t wait another minute.
He’d already waited five years. That was long enough.
Elena stood at the stove with her back to him, spatula in hand, her dark hair pulled up in a messy ponytail. She was wearing one of his old Navy T-shirts over a pair of yoga pants, and the sight of her—so comfortable, so at home in his space—made Reed’s chest ache with a happiness so intense it was almost painful.
Thank You, Lord, he prayed silently.Thank You for bringing her back to me.
He crossed the kitchen without making a sound, his bare feet silent on the hardwood, and wrapped his arms around her from behind.
Elena startled slightly, then relaxed into his embrace with a soft sigh. “Good morning,” she murmured, tilting her head back to look at him.
Reed pressed a kiss to her temple. “Morning.”
She turned in his arms, rising on her toes to kiss him properly. Her lips were soft and warm, tasting faintly of the coffee she’d already started drinking, and Reed lost himself in the sensation for a long, perfect moment.
When they finally broke apart, Elena was smiling.
“You didn’t have to make breakfast,” Reed said, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her hip.
“I wanted to.” Elena reached up to touch his face, her fingers brushing along his jawline. “You’ve been spoiling me all week. Taking care of everything. I want to help.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“I know I don’t have to.” Her dark eyes sparkled with warmth. “I want to. There’s a difference.”
Reed stared at her—at this woman who had survived impossible odds, who was standing in his kitchen wearing his T-shirt and cooking him breakfast like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He couldn’t wait. He couldn’t wait another second.
“Elena.”
Something in his voice made her go still. Her eyebrows drew together slightly, concern flickering across her features. “Reed? What is it?”
Instead of answering, Reed reached into his pocket and pulled out the velvet box.
