His eyes flicked to hers and finally he touched her, thumb wiping tears off of one cheek. “You are part of the reason I changed. Your strength. And then you were the thing that made losing my shit seem worth it. Being an emotional wreck who couldn’t hack it seemed worth it if it got me you.”
Oh, damn him, making her cry harder. “No! That is not right. You can’t out-sweet-talk me. It’s not fair. I’m apologizing. I should win the sweet talk.”
He took her hand, brushed his mouth across her knuckles. “It can be a lifelong contest.”
Her breathing hitched, instead of with tears with a sharp intake of breath. “What exactly does that mean?”
He looked down at her hand in his, thoughtfully, then turned it over, pressing a finger to each of the calluses on her palm. “Are you really ready to put all the hard work you put in here”—he brushed a fingertip across a broken piece of skin—“into us?”
“Yes. Absolutely.” It was a much scarier prospect than actual physical labor she could control, but it also offered a better reward. A reward that didn’t disappear if her ability to work did. She would have him. What more could she want?
“You make a compelling argument, I suppose. I think I can forgive you.” Before she could throw her arms around his neck and just hold on, he held a hand between them. “On three very important conditions.”
She nodded, probably too eagerly, but she didn’t care. “Anything.” And she meant it. She would do anything, and that made anything seem possible.
*
Dan had no idea what to do with her apologies and declarations of love. He didn’t know what to do with her anythings, or if forgiving her was selling himself short. He didn’t have a clue if any of this was right, but he’d gotten through the past few weeks doing what felt like the right thing to do.
And that would always be her.
“Anything?” he replied, still holding on to her hand with one of his own and holding her off with the other. “What if I said I wanted the llamas to live inside with us?”
She was leaning over the console, leaning into him. Like she really would do anything. Hell, she even smiled. “I’d take you to a psychiatrist. Lovingly.”
He barked out a laugh. The past week felt like some bizarre movie. Had this all really happened to him? Up, down, and up again. But she was sitting there saying she loved him. In Chicago. In a dress. She was telling him she wanted to work hard on them, and wouldn’t it be the stupidest thing if he let one mistake be the thing that kept them apart forever?
“Okay, really, three conditions. First, you come live with me. Permanently, unpacked bag and everything.”
She bit her lip. “I’d have to make some arrangements with Caleb, but I do want to do that.”
“Good. Second, sometime around Christmas, you come to Florida with me to visit my grandparents.”
The crying that had finally stopped didn’t start again, but her eyes got all watery. She nodded, hand in his, squeezing.
“Third…” He trailed off. Went quiet.
She let out an impatient breath after he was silent for a while. “You’re killing me here,” she muttered.
“I can’t think of anything,” he admitted. “But three seemed like such a good number.”
“Dan!”
“Okay, serious third condition.” He moved so he could have both of her hands in his, so he could look her straight in the eye. If that’s how it had ended, that would be how it began again. “When you’re afraid or panicked, when you’re sad or hurt or ecstatic or …whatever, instead of, oh, I don’t know ripping my heart out and stomping on it, or either of us running away, we could go with the easy route. ‘I’m scared.’ etc.”
Her throat moved, but she nodded again. “I will work on that. And just so you know, I didn’t relish ripping your heart out, but I was busy ripping out mine, so I may have failed to notice. Maybe we both agree to keep our hearts firmly in place.”
“Sure.” He brought her hands to his mouth, kissing both. “Except mine belongs to you.”
She wrinkled her nose, but there were tears falling over her lashes again. “Gross.”
“It can’t be that gross—you’re crying again.”
“I want to go home!” she said with a sniff. “With you.” She leaned forward, pressing her mouth to his, briefly. Far too briefly. “Let’s go home.”
Nothing could have sounded better. Well, maybe one thing, but they’d have plenty of opportunity to do that at home too.
“Sharpe.”
When he growled, she laughed.
“I just wanted you to know that I fully expect you to be able to use that name on me at some point.” She said it so archly, like a challenge.
“That name on y— Oh, no, no, no. You are not proposing to me. I will be the one proposing when we are ready.”
“Of course,” she said, all wide-eyed innocence. “Who said anything about proposing?”
He took her face between his hands. “You are a giant pain in my ass, and I love you with everything I have.”