“Well, originally there was a night of great sex, a few bottles of wine, a box under your pillow when you woke up next to me, but then you came and told me about this, and…” He sighed. “You mean something to me, Luna. I love you, and I want you to be my wife, and I may not get the chance to ask again so will you please put me out of my misery and say yes or no?”
A litany of excuses flew through my head. It’s only been six months. You’re cursed, I’m a were—it would never work. I fear commitment like a vampire fears a spicy marinara sauce … “Will…” I sighed. He was still holding my hands, and I gently extricated myself. “I just don’t know.”
His face fell, and he stepped back, running his hands through his hair and dislodging a blond chunk to hang in front of his eyes. “Not the answer I was wanting to hear.”
“I know, and I’m sorry, but this was just so sudden and no one has ever proposed to me before, so I don’t know the etiquette…” I babbled, trying to salvage something from this.
“The etiquette is, you say yes, ” Will said testily. “And I don’t embarrass myself.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think this is supposed to be about you being embarrassed,” I said gently. He grimaced, and paced a few steps away from me. I stayed where I was, suddenly feeling very cold and small in the scheme of things.
“This isn’t about trying to control you or trying to make you settle down or my own happiness,” Will said.
“This is about us, being together. If you don’t love me in the same way, tell me now and I’ll walk away and we can end this before it causes some real pain.”
I looked at my feet. Six months was, in the larger timeline, no time at all, but to me it was huge. Six months was the longest I’d managed to be with anyone, except Dmitri, and we’d had enough fights and problems to make maybe a handspan of weeks in those six months actually good.
Will was not Dmitri. He was solid, dependable, loving. And more than any of that, he accepted meexactly as I was. He’d never tried to make me change or conform to his ideas of what a woman should be.
I didn’t want Will out of my life. I just wasn’t sure I wanted to be his wife. “Please don’t go,” I said. I came to him and wrapped my arms around his waist. Will had a few inches on me, enough so that I could lay my head on his shoulder.
He sighed and stroked my hair. “I cocked this up royally, didn’t I?”
“It’s not you,” I said. “It’s me.”
“That’d be funny if we weren’t standing right here,” he said. “What do you need, Luna? A guarantee that I won’t make you wear a frilly apron? Me to proclaim adoration from the rooftops? A complete list of every other woman in my life? What?”
“Well, since that last one would take literally years,” I said, “I’m not gonna go there.” I pulled back and pushed the gold strands of hair out of his face. “I just need time, Will. Time to process. Time to decide.” Part of me whispered that if I were really sure one way or the other I’d know already, but I told it to shut the Hex up.
He shut his eyes, and I knew gut-level that this was the end. He was going to throw up his hands, like all of the men in my life eventually did. I was just too much trouble for my own good.
Will opened his eyes and gave me a crooked smile, one that did a fairly good job of masking the hurt in his expression. “Time, I’ve got.”
I blinked. “Really?”
“Really. For you, doll, I’m prepared to wait.”
I started to shake with relief for the second time that day. “Thank you,” I said, covering Will’s mouth with kisses. “Thank you.”
“You’d better get going,” Will said, checking his watch. “You’re going to be late meeting your cousin.”
“We’ll talk about this more when this case is closed,” I said. “I promise.” Whatever I decided when I had time to actually think, I’d never meant anything more.
Will kissed me chastely on the cheek and squeezed my hand. “Be careful, Luna. I mean it. I know you’re a tough broad but the Russians are tougher.”
I gave him a reassuring smile. “Honey, they’ve never met anyone like me. Trust me on that one.”
———
Vines, the wine bar I’d told Sunny to meet me at, was a discreet stone building on a discreet corner in Cedar Hill. The waiters all wore black, as did most of the customers, and the music was the kind of self-conscious world tracks that no one actually likes to listen to.
But it was quiet, it was dim and no one looked atyou to do anything except size up your hair and clothes. Once the clientel realized that I was in a wrinkled pair of suit pants and an off-the-rack blouse, they ignored me.
Sunny was in the corner with a glass of water, twisting it between her fingers. “You’re late,” she said when I slid in across from her. “I was starting to think you’d ditched me.”
“Will proposed,” I blurted. Sunny’s mouth opened a fraction, and she froze, her perfectly curved eyebrows in a perfect arch. Sunny is the petite, polished, pretty one in the family. I’m the one with surprise proposals.
“Come again?”
“He proposed marriage. Legal union between two consenting adults.”
Sunny grabbed a passing waiter. “House Merlot. Make it quick.”
“I hate Merlot,” I protested.
“You stroll in here looking like you just punched a semitruck in the face and tell me that your immortal boyfriend proposed. It’s not for you.” She folded her arms. “Now, why don’t you explain why you look like you just rolled out of a gutter in Times Square, circa 1979?”
“I…” I sighed. “That’s the other part of
