“Thirty-five.”
Then again.
“Forty-five.”
He kisses me three times in a row.
“Fifty-five, sixty-five, and seventy-five.”
Then, he grimaces.
“It may be a stretch to promise I’ll still be around when you’re eighty-five, angel, but I swear I’ll fight like hell to make it that long.” Grinning, he presses his forehead into mine. “I want to celebrate every milestone with you, Evangeline. From now until forever.”
A flood of emotion steals my breath and renders me speechless.
So I kiss him, pouring every ounce of gratitude and care andloveI feel for this man into the action. Telling him without words that I want forever with him, too.
CHAPTER 44
EVANGELINE
Despite the heated promises in the elevator and Alaric’s coaxing, I refuse to leave the kitchen in disarray. I’m the one who made this mess when I presented him with breakfast in bed this morning, and I’d rather not leave it for him to worry about tomorrow.
In a hilarious role reversal, I sent Alaric to go relax in the tub—it’s his birthday, after all. Every few minutes, he calls out from the bathroom, tempting me to join him.
I intend to, but not until I’ve finished tidying the kitchen and closed down the condo for the night. After we climb out of the tub, it’s unlikely either of us will feel like wiping counters or double-checking locks.
As I make broad strokes across the quartz countertop with a dishrag, my fingers bump the edge of one of the decorative plates lining the backsplash near the range.
The plate topples over, rolls onto its side, and falls to the floor.
It hits in slow motion, bursting into three jagged pieces.
My heart plummets. Oh shit.
Ohno.
I sink to my knees, wincing when they hit the cold tile, and pick up one of the broken pieces. It looks like bone china, which is probably why it didn’t completely shatter. A hint of relief crawls through me, but it vanishes as I assess the damage, noting an Italian stamp on the back, along with a signature.
Oh god.
This wasn’t just a decorative plate. It was a special piece, and probably expensive.
I did this. I broke a valuable item in this man’s house. I’m such a klutz. I swear I make a mess everywhere I go.
Nibbling on my bottom lip, I carefully collect the other pieces off the floor. I move slowly and methodically, avoiding the sharp edges the best I can.
This will be impossible to repair. I can’t imagine how much?—
“Evangeline? Where are you?”
I pop up off the ground, panicked, a piece of plate in each hand.
Alaric stands on the other side of the kitchen, barefoot and dripping wet, a white towel hung low around his waist, his eyes wide.
“I’m so sorry,” I blurt. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Are you hurt?”
