“You’re running,” he said. “You’ve been avoiding me ever since I first posed the question, avoiding talking aboutthis, us, setting a date. Wedding plans. You’ve been using all that shit about hours, needing to work around the clock, seven days a week, no weekends, as a—”
“Itoldyou! I fuckinghatewhat I’m doing right now, sneaking around in the dead of night, hanging out in cheap clubs and motels tailing couples indulging in sordid affairs, trying to catch them in flagranteto prove their infidelity to a sad and jealous spouse who then detestsme”—she jabbed her fingers against her chest—“for rubbing their noses in the photographic proof.” She swore softly. “But Ineedto accrue those hours as fast as possible so I can get out from under that jackass Brixton’s control and go out on my own. I—”
“Don’t. Do not mess with me, Angie,” he said firmly. “This has less to do with Jock Brixton than what I asked you in the car on the drive up. I saw your reaction. That question set the tone for the weekend. It goes right to the heart of this, of us, doesn’t it?”
She turned her face away from him, away from the diamond ring in the box he was still holding, the ring she had not touched. She glared into the flames. He watched her carotid pulse at her neck.
“It was just a simple question about whether you’d ever thought about having kids, Angie.”
She swung to face him. “Listen—”
“No, you listen to me. I don’tcareabout having children if you don’t want them. I have Ginny—I’ve been there. I don’tneedto start parenting all over again. I just wanted to know what you want. Because I care about understanding what’s going on inside the woman I love, the woman in my life. The woman I want to spend therestof my life with. It’s a normal question, one of the things normal people discuss when they’re going to spend the rest of their lives together.”
A tear escaped her eye and leaked down her cheek.
Maddocks cursed inwardly. Wrong thing to say. How could Angie Pallorino be “normal”? Her childhood, her past, was violent and bloody and abusive. She was a textbook case for some victim psych study. And yeah, a true crime book on her life story would be out soon, written by forensic shrink Dr.Reinhold Grablowski against Angie’s wishes and without her cooperation. It was a miracle she was even functional.
“I miss it,” she said eventually, still not meeting his gaze. “The job. Sex crimes. Homicide. Being a cop. Carrying a gun. Having some authority around a crime scene. Running an investigation.”
“I know.”
She turned sharply to face him, her features raw. “I’m struggling. I don’t know hownotto be a cop, Maddocks. I feel like I’m something ... less. And making such a big life commitment at a time when I can’t even figure out who I am, who I want to be—I don’t know if that’s the right thing to do.” Her gaze bored into his. “Because most of all, I never want to disappoint you. I don’t want to let you down and have you think one day down that road that you made a terrible mistake.”
“Thiswas a mistake,” he said, closing the lid on the box and shutting the diamond away from the light. “My mistake.”
He’d forced his girl’s hand, and she’d rejected him. This was it—plain as day: it wasn’t going to work out with Angie. Maddocks was almost shaking with the reality of the blow. It made him realize how badly he’d wanted her in his life, at his side, always, forever. “I should have waited,” he whispered, more to himself than her. “Done this another time. I just wanted to confirm we were moving forward, but—”
She placed two fingers over his lips and shook her head, tears beginning to spill down her cheeks. She removed the box from his hands. In silence, she opened the lid and took the ring from the foam. She slipped it onto her ring finger and held her hand out to the firelight.
Emotion balled in his throat as he watched her face.
“It’s too big,” he said, voice hoarse. “I can see it’s too big.” He cleared his throat. “I used a ring I found on your dresser for size.”
“That was my adoptive mom’s ring. My dad gave it to me after she went into the home. It doesn’t fit me. I just keep it on my dresser ... to think about her. About things.”
“Give it back to me,” he said. “I’ll have it resized. We ... we can try another time.” How could he stick this genie back into the bottle? It would be like putting smoke back into a fire, impossible now to retract.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, still staring at the ring. “Elegant. Pure. Simple.”
“Let me take it. I’ll get it fixed.”
“No, James Maddocks,” she said softly as she unclasped a silver chain she wore around her neck. She threaded the diamond onto the chain.
“Here, help me fasten it.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder and bent her head forward.
He closed the link at the nape of her neck. She slipped the diamond ring on the chain under her shirt. “I’m wearing it until we can have it resized. Together.”
Emotion slammed his chest. He took a shaky breath. “Does that mean what I think it means?”
She cupped the side of his face. “Yes,” she whispered. “A hundred times over, yes. I love you, James Maddocks. I didn’t even know it was possible to love someone like I love you. Didn’t know it was in me.” She paused. “Or how scary and vulnerable that would make me feel. And how badly I don’t want to let you down.”
Tears blurred his vision. “Let’s do it before the end of next year, before Christmas. Maybe this spring or summer?”
“I like spring,” she whispered. “I’ve always loved the streets of Victoria when they’re filled with cherry blossoms and petals litter the pavement.” She leaned in, kissed his mouth. Her lips and cheeks were cold and damp. Her scent was her, and he loved it. He slid his hand under her fall of hair, cupping the back of her neck. He deepened the kiss, desire stirring hot and low in his groin.
She moaned, and her body softened against his as his tongue tangled with hers. She moved her hand up the inside of his thigh, cupped his hardening erection.
“Tent,” he murmured against her mouth.
