All for You (Paris Nights #1)(86)

He could.

Damn it, he could.

Mostly because he just wanted it so damn bad.

Célie reached up from her position against his thigh to stroke his cheeks, and the coolness of her fingers made him realize how hot his skin was. Oh, f*ck, was he blushing?

“How am I doing on the cuddles?” he asked.

She nestled her face into his thigh. “I’m so happy.”

Sometimes he didn’t know what to do with how much tenderness swamped him in moments like this. He almost couldn’t breathe from it, as if it was his kryptonite or something. A force that could overwhelm a man no matter how strong he tried to be. He had to stroke her cheek and just sink into it.

“I wanted to ask you something.” Heat burning in his cheeks, he rubbed one hand against the slate of the hearth. “I suppose now is a good time.”

“Okay,” she said quietly. She’d gotten so good at that—listening to him. She’d managed to breathe that anger out of her somehow and release it, in the way his mother had never been able to release her anger with his father, not even when she let it spill onto her son, too. Célie’s quiet when he tried to talk to her now made him feel as if they were teenagers again—when they could talk about anything. When she had been his refuge, the person who made his thoughts feel whole and true and worthy of being shared.

Like teenagers, but … bigger. Stronger. Even a little wiser.

Oh, hell, he just had to go for it. He cleared his throat and dug awkwardly into the pocket of the hip she wasn’t lying on. Yes, he had been putting this item in his pocket every morning for the past six months, just in case his chances looked good that day. Just in case he could get his nerve up.

He got it free and took one deep breath, trying for the techniques he’d learned to deal with adrenaline in the Legion—fill your lungs. Hold it two seconds. Let it out long and slow. And go. “Do you ever think there might come a time again when people would think you were running around in sequins because it would make you so happy … to wear this?”

He held out the diamond ring she had once turned down.

And his stomach tightened to the point of implosion. The platinum burned against his fingers as if he’d pulled it straight out of a fire.

She drew in a breath, pressing her fist to her mouth.

Was that—oh, God, that was the exact same expression she’d had on her face just before she said no the other time.

His fist clenched around the ring. “Or, if you’d rather …” He had to clear his throat much harder this time. He fished in his pocket again. “There’s this one.”

God, this goddamn ring. Cheap, slim band, oversize fake diamond, bent setting. He had to breathe slowly to keep his hand open and the cheap thing resting on his palm, instead of hidden inside a fist.

But Célie … she lit up like, like … sequins. She sat up, grabbing his hand so she could look at it better. “Did you go back and buy me one just like the one you almost bought me before?” Her voice came out so hushed and wondering.

Damn, his throat felt rough. Five years in the Legion had ruined his voice. He tried to clear it anyway. “This is the one I bought before. Five and a half years ago, the night before I left.” See how pathetic it was? See why I couldn’t offer it to you?


Her hands tightened spasmodically on his. She jerked up her head so fast she almost hit him in the chin. “You bought it? You actually had it in your pocket when you told me good-bye that night? And you lost your nerve?”

“I wanted to be better,” he said low, a little helplessly.

“Oh, Joss.” She threw her arms around him, holding on as tight as she could. Hell, that felt good. That was so much better than crying and telling him to go away. Oh, thank God. No matter how badly this proposal attempt turned out, at least it was already better than the last time. “I will strangle you one of these days, I swear.”

He rubbed her back gently. “I’ve got a strong neck. I can risk it. For you.”

“I love you so much,” she whispered. “I always have.”

Okay, so he was making progress. He was definitely getting better results this attempt than last one. But …

Oh, f*ck, would she just say it? Yes or no? The f*cking suspense was killing him. What if she was letting him down gently? Or what if she was going to say yes?

He set both rings into the same hand and held them out to her on his palm. “You can have either one you want.”

His pinky finger curled surreptitiously over the cheap one, trying to hide it.

Célie peeled his pinky finger back, looking at it. Oh, hell.

She looked back and forth between the two rings for a long time, the one that he was so proud of, that showed all that he had been able to accomplish, and the one of which he was ashamed, that showed where he came from. When she looked up at him, her eyes were shimmering. Fuck, not the tears. That had ended so badly for him last time.

And then she said, “Can I have both?”

He blinked, not quite able to absorb what she had just said. He felt kind of … dizzy. As if all his world had just turned into this mass of swirling sequins under a disco ball.

“Because I love both those parts of you. Who you were and who you drove yourself to become. I love that you loved me then, and I love that you love me now,” Célie said.