Page 29 of Wait For Me

“Tell him to come by sometime,” Seamus said, and I wondered if that might just be the thing that brought my brother home. I missed him harder than I’d ever missed him before, now that Tristan and I were together. Even though we’d visited him twice in the past year. The whole year had been a whirlwind of travel, reunions, and the two of us making up for lost time. My biggest win had been getting him to have dinner with his mom, who’d finally left Randy, and had been sober for the six straight months since. It was my greatest hope that now that we were settling back home in Quince Valley after a year of mostly being abroad, that Tristan could have at least something of a relationship with his mom. I could see how badly she regretted the years of mistakes she’d made.

After dinner, Tristan and I share the most delectable chocolate mousse cake I’d had in my life, then walk across the lobby toward the elevator. We’re staying at the hotel for the night, even though as of last month, we officially live in Quince Valley. I finally gave up the lease on my apartment, which is where we’d been staying when we came home between Tristan’s assignments, after he gave up his place in New York. I signed it over, funnily enough, to one of the executives at Reilly, a woman called Sarah Cooper, who’d be starting at the company at the same time as me. Tristan and I closed on an adorable house close to downtown which we’re moving into tomorrow. But tonight, I plan on making full use of the hotel, and its elaborate spa.

Tristan loops an arm around my shoulder as we walk. He holds our coats under the other, which he insisted we keep when the bellhop took our luggage in case I got cold. That was Tristan, always so sweet.

“I wish we could visit the east wing again,” I say as I lean into Tristan while we wait for the elevator.

Unfortunately, that whole side of the building is sealed off now, the entrances not only locked but boarded over. The renovation will be starting in a few months. I know this because Reilly Contracting, as they’re called now, is the one doing the job.

“I’ve got something even better in mind,” Tristan says into my hair.

I look up at him, confused.

But he just smiles like the Cheshire Cat.

“Tristan…” I say.

But I can’t ask him anything else, because the sound of heels clipping the marble floor comes up behind us. I turn, expecting to see another guest, but to my surprise, it’s Cassandra Kelly.

She smiles broadly. “Hi, you two.”

“Hey!” I exclaim, embracing the woman who was my boss for only a few weeks, as we’d waited for a replacement for Louise, and then I’d left. I was deeply apologetic about going when the whole hotel was in flux last year, but she’d been so supportive. Especially when she heard why I was going.

“Following your heart is never a bad thing,” she’d winked.

I have a big friend-crush on Cassandra, and if I wasn’t so confused about what was going on between her and Tristan—who’re both looking like they’re carefully controlling their expressions—I’d ask her to call me so we could hang out.

As it is, Cassandra swipes her card on the elevator keypad and says nothing more until we emerge at the top floor,where we follow her down the same corridor Tristan and I had sprinted down that night as we ran from security.

I look up at Tristan, mouthingwhat are you doing?

But he only winks.

“Here you go,” Cassandra says, swiping her card for the stairwell leading to the roof. “Remember, security’s coming back at eleven, and if they find out I did this, they’ll report me to the safety committee. So, you know, be careful.”

She winks at me as we push through the door. Then she’s gone.

“Tristan!” I say. “I didn’t even know you knew Cassandra well.”

“I asked Jude to pull a few strings,” he grins. “He’s off in Europe somewhere right now, but he makes good on his promises.”

I shake my head, laughing. Turns out Tristan is the sappiest romantic there is. Between the surprise helicopter tour in Costa Rica when we were visiting Sam after Borneo, and the birthday trip when he told me he was taking me camping and instead took me to Iceland and where we stayed in a luxury yurt next to some hot springs, nothing should surprise me.

But seeing the two folding lounge chairs and fluffy duvet, I’m truly surprised.

“Tristan, this is beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful,” he says, brushing the hair from my eyes.

I laugh.

Tristan looks out at the river. “We didn’t get to appreciate the view last time we were here, so I thought tonight would be the perfect time.”

It really is stunning—the river sparkles in the distance, and all of downtown Quince Valley twinkles in a warm glow. Overhead, the night is clear and crisp; the stars breathtaking.

“It’s gorgeous,” I agree.

Tristan doesn’t say anything though, and when I look back, I see why. He’s down on one knee, a gorgeous diamond ring in his hand.

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