Page 197 of Revere: A Legacy Novel

Cross’s father and his mother were the last two that actually had items, though they were not the end of the line of people Catherine had to get through, apparently.

Calisto unfolded a yellowed piece of paper, and turned it around for Catherine to see the sketch she had given to Cross for his fifteenth birthday. He folded it back up without a word, and tucked it into the slot at the top of the shadowbox.

Emma Donati smiled softly as she held out a tiny bag of white powder that was tied off with a little red ribbon. Catherine instantly laughed.

“Is that flour?” she asked.

“It is. I have no idea why, though,” Cross’s mother said.

“I do.”

She wouldn’t tell, though.

It was a part of their story.

Not anyone else’s.

Emma dropped the small bag into the box, and then she and Calisto stepped aside. Slowly, the rest of the people behind them followed the same idea. They separated until Catherine could see who waited at the end of the drive for her.

On one knee, dressed in black Armani, dark gaze on her, and waiting.

She figured Cross had been waiting on her for his whole life.

She hadn’t realized it until then, but as she blinked, the water gathering in her eyes fell. The tears made tracks down her cheeks as her next breath caught in her throat.

“Go ahead,” she heard someone say.

She wasn’t even sure who.

Catherine hugged the shadowbox tight to her chest as she finally found enough bearings to make her legs move. As she came to a stop in front of Cross, he flipped open the top of a black velvet box in his hand.

The ring in the box made her heart stop.

It belonged to her grandmother, Cecelia. A family heirloom that was always safely hidden away in a safe with other precious things. Her grandmother only wore it on very special occasions, and when asked, had never said who she would give it to. It had been used as the engagement ring for her mother and father, too, but was again stored once they were married and Catrina never wore it again.

“Catherine,” Cross murmured. “Won’t you look at me?”

Her gaze darted to his.

He smiled.

She sucked in another shaky breath and let more tears fall.

“Oh, my God,” she breathed through tears. “You’re making me cry, Cross.”

“I so love you, my girl.”

“Too much, apparently.”

“Never,” he countered. “Are you ready?”

“To cry more?”

“Probably.”

She laughed weakly. “I mean, thanks for the heads up.”

He wet his lips, and took a quick breath.