Page 133 of Rush

We fall into a comfortable silence, moving together in slow rhythm. I rest my head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart syncing with the music. Across the room, I spot Carole and my father dancing, Philippa and Andrew swaying nearby. Riley chats with Jack, her head thrown back in laughter.

Everyone’s here.

Everyone except my mother.

The thought slips in, uninvited.

“Do you have any siblings?” I ask, glancing up at him. It occurs to me how little I know about his family—outside of his father passing, and his mother.

“I do. Twins,” he says.

“Twins?” I blink, surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah. My younger brother and sister. They’re two years younger. Elijah lives in Chicago—he’s a writer for theChicago Chronicle.Georgia’s in Florida. She’s a teacher.”

He smiles down at me, and I can’t help but return it.

“Do you see them often?” I ask.

“When time allows.” He shrugs. “Work with Goodman takes up a lot of it. Elijah’s wife just had a baby, so he’s tied up with my niece. I caught up with Georgia on my layover to Argentina. We’ve got a group chat, and we call when we can.”

It’s not lost on me—the way he carves out time. How he makes space for me in a schedule that barely has room to breathe.

“Aww. Uncle Brody,” I tease. “So, your younger brother got married before you?”

“Yeah. Georgie too.”

Oh.

“Maybe we should upgrade our agreement,” he says, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m starting to feel left out.”

I nearly choke on my laugh.

Marriage.

It’s never been something I’ve truly believed in. I want to be loved—fully, deeply—but that didn’t have to come wrapped in a certificate and a ceremony. Not when it could all so easily unravel with lawyers and silence.

And yet…now that he’s said it, I can’t help but think about it.

“I have it on good authority that you’re married to your job,” I scoff, arching a brow at him.

He narrows his eyes. “Who’s your source?”

I shrug, flashing a cheeky grin. “A lady never tells.”

He chuckles, then leans in—his breath warm against my ear. “I have it on good authority that you are far from a lady, sweetheart.”

The whisper skates down my spine like a shiver.

Before I can catch my breath, he spins me. Butterflies detonate in my stomach as he pulls me back into his arms—closer this time, his body pressed fully against mine, the heat of him seeping through his tux.

“What about you?” he asks.

“What about me?” I ask softly, lifting my gaze to his.

“Would you want to be married?”

“Why are you asking?” I laugh, trying to keep it light.