He hurried back through the window and reached the front door just as Gwen arrived.

“How lovely,” she said, taking in the candlelit apartment and drifting toward the gorgeous bouquet of flowers on the table. He steered her shoulders toward the fire escape instead.

“First I thought we could head outside for a little toast,” he said.

“Your mother isn’t here?”

“It’s just you and me tonight. It will be like old times out on the fire escape.”

Gwen smiled agreeably. “I have fond memories of evenings on the fire escape. What’s the occasion?”

He was suddenly tongue-tied and ducked out the window first, then turned to help her navigate through. She had done this so many times that she didn’t need his help, but she still took his hand and demonstrated surprising grace as she emerged on the other side.

“My goodness,” she said, gazing at the votive candles and the cluster of flowers decorating the plain metal platform. Her face flushed a gorgeous shade as the implications of the romantically transformed fire escape started to penetrate. The champagne had already been uncorked, and he poured her a glass.

“To us,” he said as he raised a glass to her.

She smiled and took a sip but set it down quickly. “Patrick, what’s this all about?”

He swallowed hard and stood up straight. This was it.

“I may be a big Irish lunk, but I learn from my mistakes,” he said. “I love you very much. I’m sorry it took me so long to get off my high horse and see that you and I could be perfect together despite all the differences between us.”

He was about to launch into the rest of his prepared speech, but Gwen’s attention had wandered across the lane.

“Good heavens, that looks like my cousin Joshua,” she said in amazement.

He followed her gaze, where Joshua sat on one of the benches outside the pub across the street. Father Doyle sat beside him, with Aunt Martha and Uncle Milton on the other side.

“I really didn’t want an audience for this,” Patrick muttered.

Gwen leaned over the railing, squinting through the gathering twilight. “Liam is watching us through the pub window,” she said.

Patrick scowled. Sure enough, Liam, Natalia, and Bertie were all crowded inside the pub, looking up at them. The entire pub was probably crawling with Blackstones.

“My mother never could keep a secret,” he said in frustration.

Birdie’s voice rang out from next door. “I heard that! It was Martha who rounded everyone up.”

Down below, Joshua stood up and hollered, “Did she say yes?”

“I haven’t asked her yet,” Patrick bellowed down. “Too many people keep butting in.”

“Oh!” Joshua looked suitably embarrassed as he sat back down beside Father Doyle. “Don’t mind us. Carry on.”