Page 99 of Code Name: Atticus
“You’re pacing,” her father observed from his armchair, setting down the book he was reading. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, son. She’s loved you for years.”
“And I loved her. Even though I was too afraid of your son to admit it at the time.”
The sound of him chuckling was warm and familiar. I thought back to two days ago, when I’d told Brenna I had a few errands to run and came down here to ask his permission to propose. Luke had met me here, and I’d asked him too. He and Andy had both responded positively—with enthusiasm. “You’re already part of the family,” Brenna’s mother, Cathy, had said when her husband told her why I was there.
Now, I could hear her warm laughter mixing with Brenna’s protests about being perfectly capable of chopping vegetables without supervision.
“Mom, I’m a federal prosecutor. I think I can handle a knife.”
“You’re my daughter, and in my kitchen, you’re sous chef at best.”
The front door opened, and Luke came inside. He glanced at me, then toward the kitchen. “Are we late? Did we miss anything?” he asked in a low tone of voice.
“Not yet, but he better get at it before he wears a hole in our carpet,” Andy responded.
“Where’s Emma?” I asked.
“Still in the car, wrapping up a phone call. Hey, Bug,” Luke said when she came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel.
“Mom and I just finished prepping dinner, no thanks to you.”
“Traffic was brutal,” he said with a wink.
Brenna looked at her watch. “It’ll be ready in about half an hour. I need some air. Take a walk with me?” she asked, sliding her arm through mine.
My pulse kicked up three notches. This was my opening to ask the question that would change both our lives forever.
We stepped out the back door to where Brenna had attempted to kiss me all those years ago. The evening was perfect—warm but not humid. Cathy’s roses were in full bloom, their scent heavy in the air.
“This place,” she said softly, leaning against the porch railing. “Lots of memories here.”
“Best worst decision I ever made.” I moved beside her, close enough to feel her warmth. “Neither of us was ready then.”
Her eyes were bright in the fading light when she faced me. “And now?”
“Now, I can’t imagine my life without you.”
Unable to remember a single word of my carefully prepared speech, I dropped to one knee and pulled the green velvet box from my pocket. “I hope you say yes. I mean, your dad already did—wait, that came out wrong. Your dad said I could?—”
“Mason, ask me already.”
As I opened the box, revealing my grandmother’s Art Deco diamond ring, the sapphires around the center stone caught the light from the setting sun. “Brenna Austen. We started with a fake marriage that I immediately knew I didn’t want to end. I love you. Completely. Ridiculously. Permanently. Will you marry me? For real this time?”
“Yes, I’ll marry you,” she breathed, tears streaming down her face.
I slipped the ring onto her finger. It was a perfect fit, like everything about us was once we stopped fighting it. She pulled me to my feet and kissed me with ten years of waiting behind it.
Luke burst through the porch door before we could even catch our breath. “Did she say yes?”
“She did!”
“Mom! Dad! Emma! She said yes!” Luke shouted behind him.
We were mobbed within seconds. Cathy was crying, and Andy was clapping my back hard enough to leave bruises.
“You all knew?” Brenna accused, laughing through her tears. “Even you?” she said to Emma, who nodded.
“Atticus asked permission like a real gentleman,” Andy said proudly.
