Nicholas lifted her hand to his lips, kissed it tenderly.“Marry me.”
Her breath shuddered.
“Marry me,” he repeated softly, “and let us face whatever comes next together.”
Bea looked too full, too fragile, too immense all at once.Her throat worked.She tried to speak and failed, covering her mouth again as tears continued to slide freely down her cheeks.
Nicholas waited, silent, steady, certain.
Finally, with a trembling breath, she lowered her hand.She leaned forward and framed his face in her hands, pressing her forehead to his.“Yes,” she whispered, a laugh and a sob tangled together.“Yes, Nicholas.”
His exhale was a sound of relief, gratitude, and something else—something that sent warmth through her like sunlight.His hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her into him, holding her tightly as if he finally dared to believe she was his.
