“You didn’t warn me,” I croaked.
“No.”
I stepped closer. “You were playing it a year ago,” I said. “In my apartment.”
He blinked. “You remember that?”
“I remember everything where you’re concerned.” I reached for him then, my hand settling at his jaw, my thumb brushing once, grounding both of us.
Kieran was trembling.
“I let you walk away once.” I cupped his cheek. “I’m not doing it again. Because now I know.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “What do you know?”
I closed the gap and kissed him on the lips, then pressed my forehead to his.
“You are my life now.”
I let the silence sit, because I wanted him to hear all of it.
I slid my hand to his nape, then looked into his eyes.
“Marry me.”
Kieran stared at me, his eyes wide.
I took a breath. “I’m not asking impulsively. I don’t do that. YouknowI don’t.” Another breath. “I’m asking because I’ve already made the decision.” My thumb moved over the warm skin at the back of his neck. “There isn’t a version of my life that exists without you in it. And?—”
He cut off my words with a kiss that wasn’t gentle or careful, his hands on my face, pulling me into him, the kiss leaving no space for doubt or question.
When he pulled away, his breath was unsteady, his eyes bright.
“Yes.” Then he smiled. “Yes.”
That was all I needed.
I held him close, and this time the kiss was different.
Slower, sweeter, with as much love as I could pour into it.
We were the last to leave. Karl had already taken Diana and Miles to the bar where the after-party was taking place, and I’d assured them we would follow in due course.
Neither of us made any real effort to do so.
Outside, the night had settled into something quieter, the earlier energy of the crowd softened into a low hum that drifted through the streets. Kieran’s hand slipped into mine as we stepped out onto the pavement, the gesture instinctive.
I closed my fingers around his without hesitation.
We walked without speaking at first, our pace unhurried, our destination not tugging us forward. The music still lingered somewhere beneath everything, not in sound but in memory, in the way it had settled into me and refused to fade.
“You’re very quiet.”
I chuckled. “I’m thinking.”
“To quote you, that’s always dangerous.”
I smiled. “Less so than it used to be.” I squeezed his hand. “You were amazing tonight. Both performances.”