Chapter 28

TWENTY-EIGHT

T wo months later

Truman had never been more nervous in his life.

"How about this one?” Dolan asked. “Marquise cut. Emeralds and diamonds in titanium.”

He adjusted his tie. He was headed to Emma's father's for dinner. A very important dinner "I'm not giving her an engagement ring from your pawnshop."

"It's never been worn." Dolan pulled out another from his collection. "How about the sapphire? It's a beauty."

"I've got it covered. Leave me alone.”

Spence watched from a bar stool in the corner, fiddling with some of the gadgets on the countertop that were in disarray. “He’s got a serious case of the collywobbles.”

“I do not.”

“You don't even have a job, you mucker,” Spence went on. “You should take Lanny up on one of those beauties and save some quid. Emma's going to want a nice house in the country. Her beater of a car is on its last legs, and she probably wants kids. God, you’ll make a terrible father.”

"I do have a job, thank you very much, and Emma’s not like that. She probably wouldn't care if we lived in the back of my Jeep.” He’d had to downgrade his usual fancy car. It was temporary, he told himself. He wasn’t sure about the kid thing, but a farmhouse and a few mini-Trumans, maybe a dog… “I meet with Claire Fox tomorrow to get my badge and complete my final paperwork. The embassy job is mine.”

“Yeah, working for Russell,” Dolan said as if the ambassador was Satan himself.

“He’s a prat,” Spence said, agreeing.

“Hence, why I’m stepping in as his consultant.” He straightened his cuffs, raised his chin, and ignored the burning sensation in his chest—not from his healing injuries but from the one thing he hated more than anything else—fear. “I’ll be stationed in DC, and Emma and I can start a new life together.”

“No more spy shit.” Spence shook his head as if in disbelief. “I can’t believe you’re willing to be put out to pasture.”

“I’d hardly call it that,” Truman argued. “The crown still finds me valuable, and this is how I can best serve my country.”

Dolan snorted. “This has nothing to do with serving JOE. You’re giving up SIS to be with Emma.”

There was that. “She’s worth it.”

“Does she know that you’re doing it for her?” Spence asked.

“Of course not. She’d have a cow, and the next thing you know, she’d be shoving me on a plane and sending me back to Whitehall. This way is better. I don’t want her to ever feel like it’s her fault that I’m switching careers.” He pinned each of them with a look. “And she better never find out.”

They raised their hands in mock surrender. “Mum’s the word,” Dolan said. “But you should reconsider the engagement ring. I’ll give you a good deal on the marquise.”

Truman flipped him the bird and strode for the door.

Spence yelled after him, “You can’t ask her to marry you without a bloody ring!”

Watch me .

But all the way to Charlie’s place, he worried.

Pulse racing and short of breath—because holy hell, he was about to ask Emma to marry him—he pulled into the parking lot of a convenience store.

He probably wasn’t thinking straight, and it might blow up in his face, but…

He parked the Jeep and went inside.

He was late.

Emma’s heart was in her stomach. What if he didn't show? What if he’d changed his mind?

Her dad passed by with a bowl of salad in hand. He placed it on the dining room table amongst the other dishes he’d made for dinner. "He probably ran into traffic. He'll be here. Relax."

Soft jazz came from the living room speakers, and her mother hummed along. She’d been granted a pardon. It felt like they all had. They’d held their own private memorial for the Red Hearts they’d lost because they’d been part of their family in so many ways.

Emma checked the clock on the wall. He was already ten minutes late. The food was getting cold. She’d texted him. Was it too needy to send a second message demanding to know where he was? If he was stuck in traffic, why didn't he say so?

Everything had been going so much better. She had a new job as a geologist for an online retailer. The company handled stolen merchandise the police had been unable to return to its owners. She helped find most of them, and it felt good to reunite mothers with items their children had given them, wives with stolen engagement rings and wedding bands, and young girls with family heirlooms handed down from their grandmothers.

Some days, she worked from home—her dad’s place, since she still hadn’t found a new apartment—and others, she went into the small office where the handful of employees treated her like anyone else, not the daughter of the infamous Catherine Owens.

But without Truman… Her shoulders slumped, and she sighed. “We should go ahead and eat," she told her parents. "I don't think he's coming."

Her mother emerged from the living room and shared a knowing glance with her dad. The cut on her throat was a pale pink line, but she’d covered it with a bandage so as not to disgust Truman if she showed. Emma had told her he’d seen much worse, but her mother could be vain. “Em, it's no problem for us to stick the stuff in the fridge,” she said, her voice raspy. “We can reheat it when he gets here."

"No. It's okay. Come on. Let’s eat.”

It was so not okay. He’d said he loved her. She’d made plans. But when he’d said it, he’d just been through a traumatic event and doped up on morphine. His subsequent recovery had been rocky. The past few days, he’d been exceptionally quiet and secretive.

He’d changed his mind, plain and simple.

He was probably on a plane heading back to London. That’s why he hadn’t replied.

Her parents took their places, and her dad started telling her mother about the new collections the museum was getting that fall. Catherine made polite responses while helping herself to the baked lasagna and salad. Her dad poured wine. All the while, Emma felt them sneaking glances at her.

They were halfway through the first bottle when her mother cleared her throat, and Emma glanced up. She’d zoned out and missed something important. “Sorry, Mum,” she said. “Could you repeat that?”

“If that boy doesn’t show up in the next two minutes,” Catherine started with a look Emma knew well, “I’m going to cut off his?—”

“Mother!”

The bell rang.

Emma nearly tripped over herself in her hurry to answer the door.

Her heart stuttered and then jumpstarted itself. There he stood on the other side in one of his fancy, designer suits, grinning from ear to ear.

He held out a bottle of champagne. “My abject apologies for my tardiness. I had an unexpected emergency.”

She ushered him into the tiny foyer. “You could have called.”

“I certainly could have, but I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“What surprise?”

He pointed at the alcohol. “The reason for the celebration.”

She felt like she was missing an important piece of the conversation, much like she had at the dinner table. “Sorry?”

Her mother and father appeared. “Ah,” Truman said. “Dinner smells amazing. So sorry to keep you waiting.”

“We started without you,” Catherine told him with a chastising tone.

“As you should have,” Truman replied.

“I would think someone like you would know the importance of timing,” she continued.

“Mother,” Emma grumbled. “Save the lecture, will you?”

“No, she’s right,” Truman said. “My timing is poor, but for reasons I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive.”

Celebration. Champagne. “Did you get a job?” Emma asked. “Were you at an interview?”

“I have procured a job at the British Embassy, yes.”

“That’s great, son,” Charlie said.

Emma cringed, but Truman didn’t seem to mind the moniker. “Thank you, sir. It looks as though I’ll be residing here in DC for now.”

“Why don’t we get back to our dinner?” Catherine suggested. “You can tell us all about it.”

“Boring stuff, really.” Truman grasped Emma’s hand as she started to follow her parents. “I wonder if I could speak to Emma alone for a moment. I promise it won’t take long.”

Catherine looked like she wanted to slug him with the champagne bottle. Charlie, ever the polite host, took it from him. “Of course. I’ll get some glasses.”

“What is it?” Emma whispered as Truman dragged her back to the foyer.

He reached into his pocket, and she heard crinkling. “I’m good at many things, luv, but this is all new to me.”

“Having dinner with your girlfriend’s parents?”

“No,” he said. “Well, actually yes, that, too, but…” Dropping to one knee, he held out a faceted piece of red candy. “I was referring to asking the woman of my dreams to marry me.”

Her jaw dropped. The thing he held up for her inspection was a kid’s candy ring.

He gave her the most sincere smile she’d ever seen. “Emma Grant, will you marry me?”

“What?” she gasped.

“With your eye for gemstones, I figured it would be best to let you pick your own for an engagement ring. I hope this will do in the meantime.”

She didn’t know what to say. “You’re proposing? With a candy ring?” She narrowed her eyes. “What flavor?”

He grimaced and got to his feet. “A terrible idea, eh? I’ve mucked it all up, I guess.”

She snatched it from his grip. “Are you kidding me?” She laughed, sliding it on her finger. It was small, but the band was adjustable. “I love it.”

He brightened. “You do?”

“It’s cherry,” she said after taking a lick. “My favorite.”

“You’ll marry me, then?”

“What’s the magic word?”

“Please?”

She launched herself into his arms and he caught her with a grunt. His injuries were healing, but it would be a while before he was totally up to par. She couldn’t wait—she had plans for him. “Yes, Truman Gunn. I’m going to marry the hell out of you.”

Her parents clapped from the doorway, and Truman brought his grinning lips to hers. “I’m the luckiest man in the world,” he said and kissed her.

“Yes, you are,” she said breathlessly, the candy picking up a ray of light coming in through the transom. “And don’t you forget it.”

Dear reader, I hope you loved Truman and Emma’s story. It was long overdue, and I’m thrilled I finally had the opportunity to write it.

How about Dolan? Isn’t he the character? He’ll get his HEA in the upcoming Operation Blade, due out next year. Be sure to sign up for my newsletter so you don’t miss the announcement about his book and the upcoming Black Swan Division spin-off (the first story releases in early 2025)! https://www.mistyevansbooks.com