I asked questions. He answered them. My initial shock began giving way to reluctant understanding.
The plan had a certain cold, practical elegance to it.
But it hurts. Because I want him to propose. For real. Because he loves me. Not because his lawyer thinks it's tactically sound.
"So what do you think?" Quentin dipped his head.
“It all makes sense. It’s just… not exactly how I thought getting married would look.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you think Isobel will find the proof we need?”
He nodded. “She might. Then you wouldn’t have to marry me.”
I cupped his cheek. “Maybe I want to. Just not under these circumstances.”
He turned his face to kiss my hand. “Yeah… it makes sense to me. Let’s wait and see what happens.”
Quentin stood, offering me his hand. "Come on. It’s time to go home. Let me walk you out."
I took it, feeling the warmth of his palm against mine. We walked to my desk where I gathered my things. Then down the hallway in comfortable silence, his thumb absently stroking the back of my hand.
At the elevator, he turned to face me, his free hand coming up to cup my cheek. "We're going to figure this out."
"The marriage thing or the someone-trying-to-kill-us thing?"
"Both." His lips quirked. "Maybe not in that order."
"Priorities are important."
"Exactly." He leaned in, pressing his forehead to mine. "Get some sleep tonight. Tomorrow's going to be intense."
"You too." I tilted my face, and he met me halfway—a soft, lingering kiss that promised more when we had time. When we weren't racing against visions and deadlines and bullets.
When we pulled apart, I was breathless. "Goodnight, Quentin."
"Goodnight, Julia."
The elevator doors opened. I stepped inside, watching him until the doors slid shut between us.
I exited the elevator and made my way to the parking lot doors. Footsteps came from behind me.
"Julia, wait!"
I turned to find Serenity hurrying toward me, already tugging off her gloves.
"Serenity? Everything okay?"
"Yes. I just—" She stopped in front of me, slightly breathless. "I need to see something. May I?"
She held out her bare hand.
I didn't hesitate, placing mine in hers.
Her fingers closed around mine, warm and gentle. Her eyes drifted shut, brows drawing together in concentration. For a long moment, she was perfectly still.
Then her face softened. The corner of her mouth lifted into a small, genuine smile.
