Page 182 of The Pucking Arrangement

I arch a brow. “Why not? Works for taxes.”

She smacks my chest, but there’s no heat behind it.

“This is too much,” she whispers.

“It’s not enough,” I counter, my hands sliding down to her waist, pulling her closer. “Not after watching you leave. Not after realizing what I almost lost.”

She swallows, fingers curling into my shirt. “I was coming back.” Her voice is quiet, like she’s just realizing it herself. “After Dubrovnik. After the tour.”

“I know.” And I do—now. After weeks of an empty house, of Ris asking when Erin was coming home. After finally understanding that letting her go meant trusting her to return. “But I wanted to make sure you had something to come back to.”

Her lips part, her breathing unsteady. “Something?”

“Someone.”

A beat of silence.

“You’re so smug.” Her voice shakes, but she’s smiling, blinking fast like she’s trying to hold herself together.

I grin. “And humble. Don’t forget humble.”

Her laugh is barely a breath before I lift her clean off the ground. She squeals, arms wrapping around my neck, legs locking around my waist.

“Put me down, you caveman!”

“No.”

“Dmitri!”

I spin her in a slow circle, drinking in the sound of her laughter—the sound that’s been missing for too damn long.

“Say yes first.”

“Yes to what? You haven’t asked me anything!”

I stop, lowering her just enough so we’re eye to eye. My hands cradle her face, my thumbs stroking her jaw.

“Say yes tous.” My voice is low, steady. Certain. “To making music and making a home and figuring out the rest as we go.”

Her lips tremble, her green eyes shining. “That’s not a question either.”

I exhale, exasperated and helplessly in love with this woman. “Will you move in with us?” I press my forehead to hers, my voice rough. Wrecked. “Build a life with us? Let me love you even when you’re halfway across the world?”

She exhales sharply, her hands tightening in my shirt.

And then, finally?—

She nods.

A sharp, tight breath leaves me. I kiss her, hard and deep, until she’s gripping me like she never wants to let go.

When I pull back, my lips graze her ear, my voice low and teasing. “Also, if you need time to adjust, we can always go visit Attalus.” I nod toward the windows, where the Met is just a block away. “He’s been a solid wingman before.”

She chokes out a startled laugh, half sob, half breathless amusement. “You did not just bring up the statue right now.”

I grin, holding her tighter. “He helped me get my hands on you once. Seems fitting to give him an update.”

Erin shakes her head, still laughing, still crying, stillmine.

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