“What?”
“She said to stop chasing what’s already mine—and to fill the empty space.”
I blink.“Meaning?”
He reaches into the pocket of his linen pants and pulls out a folded photograph—a vibrant abstract by Adam Ball, color and light exploding across the frame.“This.It’s finished.He shipped it to your building in New York this morning.”
It takes me a second to find my voice.“You commissioned a piece from Adam Ball?For me?”
“For that wall in your apartment that’s been empty since before we met.You once said you couldn’t find anything that felt like you.”He brushes a strand of hair from my cheek.“I wanted you to have something that does.Something that reminds you where this all began.”
Emotion catches in my throat, unexpected and sharp.“You remembered that?”
“I remember everything.”His smile softens.“And before you argue—yes, I know you love that apartment, and no, I’m not asking you to give it up.But maybe consider renting it out…or turning it into an office.Because as much as I admire your independence, I’d like you to live with me full-time.”
I huff a laugh.“You mean move in permanently, not just fill a drawer or two at your place?”
“Exactly that.Move in officially.Keep your space, your view of the park, whatever you need—but come home to me.Your fiancé.And one day, at the date of your choosing, your husband.”
There’s no manipulation in what he’s saying, just hope.Completely justifiable, and the thought of taking this next step together feels right.
“I’ll think about it,” I say, mostly to make him grin.It works—his mouth curves, slow and sure.
“Good,” he murmurs, kissing me again.“I love you.”
“Is that so?”
“It is.You’re the most lovely person I know.”
I feign a frown.
“And I mean lovely in all the important ways.”His palm flattens against my chest, warming the skin.“In here, my love.”
“You’re irresistible.I never stood a chance.”
“Of life without me?”He grins.“No, you didn’t.”
We stand there on the deck as night fully settles over the sea, the warm weight of the ring on my finger still unfamiliar but somehow exactly right.Tomorrow we’ll call our families and deal with the inevitable chaos of announcing our engagement.Eventually we’ll head back to New York—to our complicated jobs and the beautiful, messy life we’re building.
But for now, we’re just two people anchored offshore, choosing each other again and again, building something genuine in a world that too often settles for surface beauty.
Some unions don’t require tarot cards or mystical predictions.They require courage, commitment, and the willingness to be seen—really seen—by another person.
As he laces his fingers through mine, I squeeze once, deliberate.
“I love you,” I say, like a promise I intend to keep.
And as Adrien leads me below deck, his hand warm and certain in mine, I know I wouldn’t trade this reality for any fantasy the world could offer.
Not even close.
Next in the Sinful State series…
You met Alicia Morgan when everything was on the line.
She’s the strategist.The fixer.The woman who keeps scandals contained and reputations intact.
But even the best crisis manager can’t control everything.
