Page 357 of The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The Second Collection
“No.” I take a deep breath and feel my resolve harden. “I’m not doing that to myself again. If Mac can’t love me, he can’t love me. Better to know now.”
“And you’ll break it off with him?”
I reach back and grab one of her hands before she gives me a friction burn. “Em, I know you’re trying to be there for me, but don’t push me right now, okay? I’m feeling really—” Idiotic. Fragile. Ever since I met Ruby, I’ve always wanted to be just likeher, the strong one. No man’s ever broken her, and no man ever will. I won’t let a man break me. Not even my Sir. “I’ll figure it out. Just give me a little space, okay?”
She stops rubbing, thank the Benevolence, and wraps her arms around me. “Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push. I just hate that Master Mac’s turned out to be no better than Master Ten. I thought he was the one for you.”
I pat her hand. “I’m not sure there is a person for everyone, hon.”
“There is, Bren,” she whispers. “I promise.”
But I’m not so sure, and by the way the movie ends, Disney isn’t, either. It’s kind of awesome that Merida doesn’t need a love interest, but it kind of stings, too. If Disney can’t give their warrior-princess a happy ending, what chance do I have?
“How aboutHunger Games?” I suggest as the movie ends. “I’m in the mood for a little Katniss Everdeen.”
“You got it.” Emily picks up her phone and fiddles around with it until the movie changes over.
I must fall asleep sometime during the third Quarter Quell because when a rustling wakes me, the cat’s gone, Emily’s gone, and the TV screen’s dark. I rub my gritty eyes and try to focus on what’s woken me.
It’s a bouquet of beautiful, blue roses, wrapped in crinkling tissue paper, held in a strong, masculine hand, that’s poking through the front of the blanket fort.
“Hell.” I hear Mac curse softly. “I’m not going to be able to get in there without bringing the whole thing down on my head.”
I reach up and flip one of the blankets back. “I’ll come out, Sir.”
“You stay right where you are, girl.” He hands me the bouquet and I bury my face in the blooms, letting the silky petals tickle my cheeks and chin. I’m not crying. There’s no point incrying over flowers. They’re a nice gesture, but they don’t change anything.
Mac figures out how to climb into the blanket fort without destroying it and I slide back into the space Emily was lying in as he stretches out against my front. He pulls my left hand away from the bouquet and slides something cold onto my middle finger.
I hold my hand up to see what it is. A plain, slightly battered silver band with a flat top. There’s a worn insignia stamped into the flat part: a shield and a Latin motto I can’t read. It’s way too big for my finger and looks like a man’s ring.
“What is this, Sir?”
Mac winds his arm around my waist and pulls me tightly against him. “It’s a promise ring.”
“A what?”
“A promise ring. Sorry ‘bout the size. It’s all I had, and I didn’t think this could wait while I went and bought a ring. This is the best I could come up with, girl. I love you, Brenna. I do. You’re my reason to get up in the morning and what gets me through the day and the goddess I want to worship every night. But those words are for my wife. So, if you need me to say them, and God knows I want to, I need to know that one day, you’ll wear my ring and be my wife.”
My heart fucking stops.
“Bren, damn it, say something.”
I stare at him in shock.
“Sweetheart, you’re killing me. Please say something.”
“You want to marry me?” I croak.
He smiles slowly, that wicked, warm grin of his. “Told you I’d still want to fuck that ass when I’m a hundred. You bet I’m going to wife it. No way I’m not locking down my daily anal.”
“Are you talking about anal sex while you’re proposing to me?”
Mac begins kissing me, laughing while he does, in that way that he does, which breaks my heart open again, although this time it feels like he’s knitting it back together with each kiss. “That’s what I got, bold girl. Are you gonna give me an answer before I die here?”
“How imminent is that, Sir?”
“Pretty fucking imminent. Will you marry me, Bren? Real talk. You’re starting to scare me.”
