“You said there were two buts about the flowers. What was the other one?”
“Oh. Um—”
She felt foolish telling him now, when his face was all closed off and unreadable.
Then she remembered Maria Moretti’s words that day Vin’s mother had come to visit her. If you want him… you’ll have to be the brave one.
Jill lifted her chin. “The second thing I was going to say is that while the roses really are quite lovely, I find that I’ve recently discovered a new favorite flower. Carnations. Red, to be precise. Sort of like the ones a certain man got for me, only I was too blind to actually see them.”
His gaze snapped back to hers. “Is that so?”
She nodded, and this time when she reached out a hand toward him, she didn’t stop until her arm was all the way extended.
His eyes traced the motion warily, and Jill stared at him steadily in challenge. If this was going to work, he needed to be brave too.
Vin blew out a breath and then leaned forward, taking her hand in both of his and cradling it.
“Jill—”
“Wait. Me first,” she said. “About that night, I shouldn’t have pushed you. I shouldn’t have made demands, I shouldn’t have rushed you into anything, I shouldn’t have—”
“I love you.”
Jill’s words trailed off at his interruption. “What?”
He leaned his head down to their joined hands, pressed his lips against her palm. “I love you, Jill Henley. Always have. Always will. And you don’t have to say it back. And even if you never say it back, know that I will still want you, still love you, still die for you—”
Her free hand found its way to his cheek, and he turned his head, pressing his lips to that palm as well before finally lifting his eyes to meet hers. “My brothers said that saying it would be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. They were wrong. It was the easiest. Because loving you is easy.”
Jill’s eyes filled with tears. “Took you long enough to realize it,” she whispered.
He stood, leaning over her as he pressed his mouth to her eyes, her nose, then finally to her mouth, kissing her soft and sweet.
Vin started to pull back, but Jill’s fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, holding him close. “You interrupted my speech,” she whispered.
He ran a thumb over her cheek. “So finish it now. But make it quick—I’m dying to know if this hospital gown is one of the ones that gapes open in the back, displaying your perfect ass.”
She laughed. “All right then. I’ll skip to the end of my pretty speech. I love you too, Detective Moretti.”
The playful expression vanished from his face, and something tender and heartbreaking flitted across his harsh features. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she whispered.
His kiss was longer this time, hotter, and when he pulled back, they were both a little breathless, and both remaining red Jell-O cups had been knocked to the ground.
“I don’t understand why they don’t make these beds for two,” he growled.
“Um, probably because the walls are made of glass.”
Vincent whipped his head around to see every last one of his family members staring at them with happy smiles.
“How long have they been standing there?”
“Oh, you know. The whole time.”
“And how long have my mom and Maggie been crying?”
“Also the whole time,” she answered, grinning happily as she traced a finger over his jaw.
“Uh-huh. And Nonna and her camera—”
“Yeah. Whole time.” She kissed his cheek.
“Awesome,” he muttered. “Have they given you any indication of when you get out of this voyeuristic hellhole?”
“They said one more day for observation, then I’m all yours.”
He gave a satisfied grunt and leaned down for another kiss.
“If I get rid of my Peeping Tom family, what are the odds of me getting to see that delightful open-backed gown of yours?”
“It depends,” she said, running a finger along his chest.
“On?”
Her hand fisted in his shirt once more and she tugged him downward, pressing her lips to his ear.
“On whether or not you’ve got your handcuffs.”
Vincent’s groan was low and tortured as he rested his face against her neck. “You’re mine forever. You know that, right?”
“I do,” she said, running a hand over his cheek. “At least… I’m yours until the next time I have to go to Florida, and someone with an exceptionally pretty face offers me a diamond ring—”
Jill’s tone was teasing, but when Vincent pulled back, his expression was both earnest and intense. “Detective Henley, I regret to inform you that while I definitely see a diamond ring in your future, the only one who will be putting it on your finger is me.”
“Oh yeah?” she asked, lifting her eyebrows in challenge. “How long will that take?”
“I’m guessing six years. Give or take,” he deadpanned.
And then he was kissing her again, his hands sneaking around to the back of her gown, and Jill grinned.
No way were they making it six years.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR