"I love you," I whispered against his lips.
"I love you too. Think we'll ever have a boring day?"
"Not a chance."
"Good." He pulled me closer. "Boring nearly killed me. Then you walked into my office with a fake resume and a plan to murder me, and suddenly I had a reason to get up in the morning."
"How romantic. 'She might kill me, better stay alert.'"
"Exactly." His lips twisted. "Best motivation I ever had. Though I'll admit, falling in love with my potential assassin wasn't part of my business plan."
"Your business plan was boring anyway."
"See? This is why I married you. You keep me honest."
"I keep you alive."
"That too." He kissed my forehead. "Though I'm pretty sure you're still the most dangerous thing in my life."
"Always will be."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
Three Months Later
Julia
Marriage, I'd discovered, was both easier and harder than I'd expected.
Easier because waking up next to Quentin every morning felt natural. Right. Like something I'd been doing my whole life instead of just three months.
Harder because combining two lives—two families, two businesses, two very different approaches to things like "how many coffee mugs is too many coffee mugs"—required constant negotiation.
"Twelve is too many," Quentin said for the third time this week, staring at the cabinet.
"Twelve is reasonable. What if we have guests?"
"We have six guests maximum. That's six mugs. Plus ours makes eight. We have four extra."
"What if some are in the dishwasher?"
Quentin sighed. "Then we wash them. Like normal people."
"Or we could have twelve mugs and never worry about it."
"You're impossible."
"You married me anyway."
“Moment of weakness.” At my gasp, he pulled me close. "But the best moment of my life."
"Even with Nonno's gun?"
"Especially with Nonno's gun. It's a great story."
"People are going to be so confused when they hear this story."
