Serious Moonlight(106)

My heart pounded furiously.

I peered past the woman and stared at colossal, white metal legs that stood at the base of a towering urban structure I saw every day I came into the city. It was iconic and weird, an engineering miracle, and it kicked the Eiffel Tower’s ass any ol’ day.

It all happened so fast. One minute Joseph was stopping the Mustang and jumping outside. Then next he was talking with the woman in the blazer, and she was opening the passenger door and waving me out.

“I’m Martha,” she said, smiling. “You’re Birdie? You’re to come with me.”

I gave Joseph a look that said I’m freaking out right now. Please help me. And he gave me a shrug that said, You’re on your own now. Before I could protest, I was briskly led away by Martha and swept into glass doors. We passed the gift shop, where tourists browsed T-shirts and glass cases, and then hiked up a curving ramp, skipping past lines of people. It was all I could do to keep up with her hurried gait as she swept me into an elevator and closed the door on all the people gawking at us.

Then we began ascending.

“So,” Martha said as we rose over the city, flashing through the glass. “Normally I’d tell guests that we are climbing five hundred and twenty feet at five miles per hour. And that the Space Needle was built in 1962 for the World’s Fair, and the total height is over six hundred feet, which made it the tallest building west of the Mississippi for a few years. This your first time up here since the renovations?”

“Since I was a kid, so yes. Also, my first time in a private elevator.”

“My first time taking anyone up privately, so we’re even.” She unfolded her arms as the elevator slowed and then dinged. “And here we are at the observation deck.”

“But what am I supposed to do now? Is there an envelope you’re supposed to give me or—”

“Enjoy,” she simply said, urging me out of the elevator.

I stepped onto the round, flying-saucer section of the tower: the observation deck. An enclosed inner area that had been recently renovated with clean, smooth lines: white floors and ceilings, modern benches, and floor-to-ceiling windows that sloped outward to form the Space Needle’s distinctive shape.

People meandered around the circular space. They snapped photos and headed through glass doors that led outside, to the outer ring of the deck and the darkening purple city, lights twinkling on while the last orange rays of the sun sank on the horizon.

I swung around, heart racing, looking for the next clue—anything recognizable. And when I turned back around, I found it right in front of me.

Leather jacket with the diagonal zipper. Hair pulled back into a samurai topknot.

Daniel.

My frightened-rabbit heart thumped wildly with joy.

“Hi,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “You made it.”

“You left a trail of bread crumbs,” I said.

“I knew you were a good detective.” He took a couple of steps and stopped in front of me, tugging his ear and looking more than a little nervous. Guess he couldn’t always hide it. Or maybe I’d gotten better at recognizing it. “What do you think about it up here? Was I wrong? The view’s not too shabby, yeah?”

I’m sure it was amazing, but I couldn’t possibly look at the city right now. My chest constricted painfully, because suddenly all I could think was how much I’d missed him over the past few days.

I missed his cheerful smile and his jokes.

I missed the way he looked at me right before we kissed.

I missed the thud of his heartbeat under my palm.

I missed all of him.

“Birdie,” he said in a low voice. “I’m sorry for everything. I was an idiot and I’m sorry. I should have told you right from the start about Darke. I was stupid. I know you have no reason to trust me, but I’m asking you to try, Birdie—please. No more secrets. Forgive me. I need you to forgive me. I need . . . you.”

I stared at him. He stared at me. And then I nodded.

“Because if you wanted to bail again, I wouldn’t blame you.”

I shook my head.

“Is that a no, you don’t want to bail, or—”

I blurted out, “I’m in love with you.”

He stilled. His eyes became glossy. He blinked rapidly, shifting his gaze to the side, blowing out a quick, huffed breath. Then he reached for me.

His mouth came down on mine. He kissed me quickly—small, desperate kisses all over my mouth, until I flung my arms around him and kissed him back. Earnestly, rapturously. Like he might disappear at any moment.

Warm fingers cradled the back of my head. He rested his forehead against mine, breathing heavy, eyes teary, and whispered, “I love you too.”

I let those words cascade through me, soaking them up like sunshine. “Are we going to be okay now?”

“We’re going to be okay,” he whispered back. “I told you fate would find a way.”

“And I told you there’s no such thing as fate.”

“Sorry. Can’t hear you,” he teased, his mouth turning up at the corners. “Can you repeat that?”

“Listen,” I said against his good ear, and then I told him I loved him again. And again. I couldn’t stop telling him. I didn’t care that we were standing in the busiest tourist attraction in the city and that people were gawking.