“But I told you we could weather this, Nikki. I meant what I said about your independence.”
“I didn’t do it for you. How indie is that? I did it because there’s a job that interests me more. A job where I know I am needed. I turned it down once before, but now I am ready.”
“You’re taking over the Twentieth Precinct.”
“Damn it, Rook, do you ever let anyone deliver their own punch line?”
“Apparently not. Continue.”
“They weren’t delighted, that’s safe to say. But they got it. I saw what happened last time when I passed, and they brought in Wally Irons. Then I got a look at that doofus today, and I could see it happening all over again. To my squad.”
“I am with you a hundred percent.”
“Tell me that when we have our fifth canceled dinner in a row.”
“And this would be new?” He thought a moment and said, “Don’t you have to be a captain to command a precinct?”
“I already passed my boards, remember? The Hammer still has my gold bars in his desk drawer from three years ago when I told him to shove them where the sun don’t shine.”
Rook hefted the jewelry case in his palm. “Is that what you’re going to tell me?”
Heat finished her wine, set her glass on the coffee table, then bounced on the couch cushion to face him. “I don’t know. Let’s find out.”
He slid off the sofa, lowering himself on one knee before her. In that instant all the light in the firmament, the sum total of the heavenly glow of the sun, the moon, the stars, the comets, and the planets conspired to fall on the beaming face of Jameson Rook. Nikki’s skin chilled with excitement and irrepressible glee and she swallowed hard. Keeping his eyes true, caressing hers while she cradled his, he reached out a hand and she took it, thinking, thank God his fingers were trembling, too. His smile filled her heart, and somehow it grew bigger as he finally spoke.
“Well, Captain Heat…”
A sound came out of her, whether a laugh or a cry, it was born of joy, and that’s all that mattered. “…Yes, Mr. Rook?”
“I have loved you from the first day we met. And, as unbelievable as it would have seemed to me then, I love you more now—this day, at this moment—than I ever have.”
Nikki wanted to say I love you to him, and almost did, but didn’t dare interrupt. So she told him with her face.
And he got it.
“Nikki, I believe in destiny. Not only has everything I’ve ever done led me to you, every time we are apart—whether I’m in Paris or a jungle or across town in Tribeca—I measure everything, every minute, every breath, by how soon we can be together again. Which, in a way, means we are never really apart. But here. Now. Together like this. This is what I want forever. To spend the rest of my life with you. And you with me. Rockin’ happiness.”
After working some swagger, he paused before he continued. “I want to be your husband. And I want you to be my wife.” He started to choke up and some water rimmed his eyes. Rook collected himself, held out the ring, and smiled at her—an angel’s smile. “Nikki Heat, will you marry me?”
First off, I am not Richard Castle. It seems proper to get that out up front, although certainly you have already discerned that from the absence of his flair in this section. Normally, Mr. Castle would write this part himself, but circumstances I’m not at liberty to discuss have intervened to make him…unavailable by deadline. So it falls to me, this lowly junior editor, to fulfill his wishes by acknowledging those who assisted him with this book. Please bear with me. Searching his office, I found his notes to be less than organized, and anyone I could consult for clarification is too rattled to talk. Here is my best offering gleaned from his work space.