“Everyone,” I said, and the room quieted enough to hear me. “Today is my husband’s thirty-eighth birthday.” I looked around at the faces I had eaten with and worked beside and formed deep friendships with. “You have been my family. I wanted to celebrate him with all of you.”
I turned back to Reed. “Do you want to cut the cake?”
He was looking at the inscription.
To Bigfoot. From your Prince. Happy 38th.
He read it once, silently, and I watched his face move through rapidly cycling expressions. When he looked up, his eyes were bright. “This is the best birthday I have ever had,” Reed said. His voice was rough at the edges. “That shot was worth it.”
I laughed despite myself. He pulled me into his side with one heavy arm around my shoulders and held his other hand out to Theo, who placed the cutting knife in it, handle first. Reed looked down at the cake, holding me against him, and brought the knife to the surface.
The room erupted again, clapping and a ragged, half-singing attempt at “Happy Birthday.” Reed cut down through the frosting and lifted out a slice with his fingers. He turned to me and held it up between his thumb and forefinger.
I stiffened and felt my face go up in flames. I hadn’t expected this part. But Reed was waiting, his eyes full of happiness.
I leaned in, my eyes locked onto his, and slowly opened my mouth. He pressed the edge of the slice directly to my lips. I took my time, making sure to lick his fingers thoroughly as I pulled off. I was rewarded with his blue eyes dilating and his jaw going slack.
The cafeteria lost its mind. Whistles came from every direction, and Viktor said something in Russian. Theo stepped forward and took the knife back from Reed’s hand and began cutting proper slices, setting them on the small plates, and someone came alongside him to start passing them down the tables.
Reed leaned down to my ear. “That was hot as hell.”
I ducked my head and studied my shoes.
“Come on,” he said. “You haven’t eaten anything. You’ve been running around all morning.”
I watched him go. I took a deep breath. Garrett, who had made the matching ring for Reed, met my eyes across the room and gave me one slow nod.
“Reed.”
He turned.
“Come back.” My voice came out steady despite my insides churning. “There is one more thing.”
He looked at me with the easy expression of a man who expected nothing, who thought the cake was everything, who had no idea what was about to happen.
“What is it?”
The cafeteria was still moving around us, plates passing, forks scraping, conversations running.
I dropped to one knee. Reed stared down at me. The room went silent a second time, or maybe that was just the blood pounding so loudly in my ears that I couldn’t hear a thing. I reached into my pocket and held out my hand.
“Daniel!” Reed yelped and scrambled back. “What the fuck?”
Oh shit. In my hand, I held the syringe. I felt my face go fully red as I shoved the syringe back and reached into the other pocket.
“Wrong pocket,” I said.
Laughter detonated across the room. Someone howled. I screwed my eyes shut in embarrassment, but my shoulders shook in silent laughter. My fingers found the box. I pulled it out and looked at Reed. He was still looking at me warily, like I was going to take out a black mamba next from my pocket.
I opened the box with my other hand, still down on one knee, and held it up for him. Inside sat a band identical to mine, simple metal, but durable.
“Come back here,” I pleaded.
Reed’s eyebrows rose high. “Is that… a damn ring?”
I nodded. He walked back until he was towering over me. His eyes were shining bright again.
“I’m sorry that I never got to do this the right way the first time,” I began, my voice tight and low.
