My fingers closed over Reid’s heart.
Outside, the harbor wind moved rain against the windows. Downstairs, the yard rested beneath locked doors and new systems and work waiting for morning.
Reid whistled softly.
Two short notes.
One long.
Find me.
I answered against his chest.
“I’m here.”
Epilogue
NOAH
Two Years Later
“Your hands are shaking.”
“They are not.”
I caught Reid’s left wrist before he could hide it behind his back.
The new wedding band waited on a folded square of velvet in the office safe downstairs. The hand I held was still bare, broad-knuckled, and unmistakably trembling.
“Interesting,” I said. “The evidence disagrees.”
Reid frowned at our reflection in the bedroom mirror.
He wore a charcoal suit that fit his shoulders so well I had lost my train of thought twice while fastening my own cuffs. His white shirt was open at the throat, his tie still draped around his neck. Someone—probably Marian—had convinced him to let a barber trim his beard instead of attacking it himself with the workshop clippers.
The result was unfair.
He looked like the kind of man a sensible person would avoid staring at in public.
I had never been especially sensible around him.
“You’re the one who should be nervous,” he said. “You’re giving a speech.”
“Vows.”
“In front of people.”
“People we know.”
“That makes it worse.”
I released his wrist and straightened his collar.
“Caleb has seen you cry over a seized propeller.”
“It was a custom shaft.”
“Owen saw you fall off the loading dock.”
