Page 94 of The Italian Reckoning
I didn’t realize how desperate I’d been to hear those two words until this moment. Constantly telling myself that it didn’t matter if she didn’t feel the same, that I’d be okay if I never heard her say it.
Without knowing just how much I craved to hear it.
“I love you too,” I say, tightening my grip on her hand. “So much. You have no idea.”
“Oh, I think I do,” Sarah murmurs softly and she leans down, kissing me gently. “I definitely do.”
40
EPILOGUE
SARAH
“Sarah?” Rocky’s voice drifts through the apartment, followed by a yell and a hiss, then a clatter of claws. “Iris! You scared the shit out of me!”
It’s difficult to hold in my laughter while applying the last of my mascara, and when I lean away from the mirror Rocky is standing in the doorway looking somewhat flustered.
“You good?”
“Iris decided to hide under the couch and attacked my ankle on the way past,” Rocky groans, leaning against the doorframe on one leg while massaging his ankle. “I never should have taught her that.”
“It is your own fault for spending however many hours teaching her hide and seek so you one hundred percent only have yourself to blame.” A final dab of lipstick and I’m ready.
I turn around as Rocky limps into the room and his eyes drift down me as a smile grows across his lips. “You look beautiful in blue.”
“Thank you.” When he’s close enough, I lightly pat his shoulders and slide my hands down the lapels of his suit jacket. “This had better be worth it.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
“I do. What I don’t trust is that it’s the middle of March and I’m pretty sure I saw rain on the forecast.”
“Nah,” Rocky murmurs, leaning in close to nudge his nose against mine. “I warned the weather away.”
“Oh, you did, did you?”
“Mmhmm.” His lips press lightly against mine, then the pressure increases for a few brief seconds as his arm circles my waist. “Your lipstick doesn’t taste good.”
“It’s not supposed to!” Laughing, we part, and I catch Rocky’s face before he moves away. “Red is a good look on you, though.”
“Really?” He lifts a brow as I slide my thumb across his lower lip and remove the trace transfer of lipstick.
“Yeah, I almost have competition.”
“Never.” Rocky steps back and takes my hand. “Come on.”
As we leave the apartment and head up the stairs to the roof, I detail Rocky on the most recent success of my new task force. After closing twelve missing person cold cases in the past six months—with the help of a few unlawful friends—my promotion gave me my own team to direct as I please. Closing our first case with the missing person being alive and well starts us off on a high. Not all the results in this line of work are happy, but it’s much better than Homicide. I can’t stomach that, not anymore.
“I’m proud of you,” Rocky says while holding the door to the roof open with one hand. “You’ve been throwing yourself back into things and I admit I was a little worried about how well it would go.”
“Not having a serial killer breathing down my neck makes a difference,” I tease lightly. “Besides, after that terribly awkward dinner with your father, I feel like I can take on the world.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I’d give him credit for making an effort but honestly, that’s being too generous.”
“Yeah, well…” Stepping past Rocky, I trail off in shock and my heart suddenly picks up pace.
There’s a table and two chairs laid out on the roof, complete with covered meals, a bottle of champagne on ice, and a nearby cooler. Hundreds of multicolored lights string from the roof antenna to the door and back, then swoop upward to a temporarily installed pole. From there, the lights fan out in all directions and connect to various spots on the roof, creating a tent of color.
“Rocky, what is this?”
