“Your sister and your best friend.Are you okay with that?”
“Are you kidding?I’m delighted.Tommy deserves someone who’ll actually challenge him.And Margot needs someone grounded.”He pauses.“Though I’m not looking forward to getting pulled into their disagreements.”
“Think they’ll be worse than ours?”
“My love, we rarely disagree.Those two…”
“Rarely?How long ago did we not see eye to eye on the need for The Sanctuary’s new security system?”
“That was a discussion.And your point of view was correct, as you love to remind me.”
“I wasquiteright about it.”I grin up at him.“Just like I was right about hiring Macon as your director of operations.”
“You do realize thatIhired Macon, not you.”
“After I strongly suggested it.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?”But he’s still smiling, his thumb tracing lazy circles on my hip.
The past six months have been a delicate dance of negotiation—figuring out where my work ends and our relationship begins, learning to trust each other with the messy, complicated parts of our lives.It’s not always easy.There were nights when I came home from surveillance operations too wired to sleep, and days when Adrien’s family or business pulled him away for weeks at a time.
But we made it work.We’re still making it work.
“I saw the tarot cards,” I say quietly.
His expression shifts, something vulnerable flickering across his face.“Hmm.”
“You left them on the nightstand.I wasn’t snooping, I just…” I touch his jaw.“The Fool, the Lovers, and the World.That’s quite a reading.”
“I went to see Celeste last week.While you were finishing the Foster case.”He looks almost embarrassed.“I know it’s superstitious, but?—”
“But you wanted to know what the cards said about us.”
“About our future, yes.”He captures my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm.“The Fool for new beginnings, the Lovers for partnership and union, and the World for completion and achievement.Celeste said it’s the strongest positive reading she’s ever given me.”
My throat tightens, mainly because I hadn’t been sure what they meant, or why he was holding onto them.“And what do you think it means?”
“I think it means I should stop being afraid of what I want.”He releases my hand and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box.“I think it means I should stop overanalyzing every possible outcome and just ask you.”
My heart stutters.“Adrien?—”
“I know this isn’t a well-staged proposal.No rose petals, no string quartet, no photographers for the society pages.Margot will scold me.”He opens the box, revealing a ring that catches the fading sunlight—a sapphire surrounded by diamonds, elegant and understated.“But this is where it started for us.Where I met a woman who made me want to be more than what everyone expected.Where I found something real in a world full of beautiful facades.”
I can’t speak.Can’t do anything but stare as the shoreline lights blur in my peripheral vision.
“Brie Anderson, former CIA operative, periodic pain in my ass, love of my life—will you marry me?”
The laugh that escapes me is half-sob, half-genuine amusement.“You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet.”
“Is that a yes?”
I grab his collar and pull him down to kiss me—hard and sure and full of every emotion I’m terrible at expressing with words.When we finally break apart, I’m breathless, and his eyes hold that heated promise that says we won’t be making it to dinner anytime soon.
“Yes,” I whisper.“Obviously yes.”
He slides the ring onto my finger—it fits perfectly, of course, because he’s Adrien, and he’s probably had my ring size since the third week we reconnected—and then kisses me again, slower this time, reverent.
He exhales a shaky laugh, still holding me.“You know what Celeste told me when I left her studio?”
