Page 137 of Parting Shot

I laughed.

“Hey.”

“What?” I couldn’t stop smiling.

He cleared his throat. “Marry me, all right?”

That fast, we were all serious.

“You’re sure?”

“I am.”

“Can’t get married in Chicago,” I said, running my fingers over the chain at his throat.

It turned out, Aaron was the one who needed grounding, especially when he had to fly away from me for business. The collar he had removed from me that night in Sedona never came off of him and was always flipped to the D for Duncan. I would have been the only person who saw it, but the chain had been visible in pictures snapped at a hot spring in Landmannalaugar, Iceland.

“We’ll have a civil union here and go get married in Boston.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah, sorry. I was admiring your collar, Mr. Sutter.”

Instantly, his smile returned.

“Where are we getting married?”

“In Boston. When it’s legal here, we’ll get married here, again, in front of all of our friends. But in the meantime, I want to fly you to Boston.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

I stared into his eyes, and he held my gaze.

“Okay, then.”

His face lit up. “That’s a yes?”

“It is.”

He reached for me, and I met him halfway, kissing and hugging and trying to press us together tighter.

Once we could both stand and get dressed, we rejoined the crowd, grabbed drinks, and found our seats at the table with Max and Astrid and Prentiss. Aaron lost no time telling them and asking Max to be his best man.

Max nodded quickly and lunged at Aaron; Astrid, seeing him, covered her mouth with her hand. I could tell she was trying really hard not to cry. It was good to see the brothers Sutter having such an unguarded moment. I put my arm around her and tucked her against me. The way she snuggled in was nice. I had a family again, and I was so very thankful.

After dinner, after Sarah Levin and I took a turn around the dance floor and I got my coveted dollar, and once many people crowded the floor, Aaron sat with his long, muscular legs in my lap as we talked. His face was flushed, and the white cravat at his throat contrasted beautifully with his bronze skin and gold hair. His eyes were soft as he stared at me like he was drunk.

“You look wasted.”

“No, just looking at you.” He sighed. “I like looking at you.”

“You know all this lovey-dovey crap will fade, right?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he said thoughtfully. “It’s permanent. I’m in love.”

“Me too,” I said, massaging his calves, using the strength in my hands to push into the muscles and knead them.

He whimpered in the back of his throat.

“Feel good?”

“God, yes.”

“Maybe I should take you home and give you a full-body massage.”

“Will you wear the boots?”

I couldn’t stop smiling. “Sure.”

“Okay, you’re on.”

And as usual, when we left, after saying good night to Max and Astrid and even Prentiss, he was holding my hand.