“Is this a proposal?” she asked me. “Because I’ve got a little news for you, sweetie. I’m already there.”

“In front of God, then,” I said, and took a breath because I realized suddenly I was a little nervous.

“Bree, I didn’t need you before we met. I thought I was doing okay — I was doing okay. But now… here you are, and I have to think that’s for a reason.” I hadn’t rehearsed any speech, and it felt like I was stumbling over my words, not to mention the lump in my throat. “You make me believe, Bree. I don’t know if I can explain what that means for someone like me, but I hope you’ll let me spend the rest of my life trying. Brianna Leigh Stone, will you marry me?”

She was still smiling, but I could see her fighting back tears now. Even here, Bree was trying to stay tough.

“You know you’re a little crazy, right?” she said. “You know that?”

“If lovin’ you is wrong,” I whisper-crooned to her, “I don’t want to be right.”

“Okay, okay, anything but the singing,” she said, and we both laughed like a couple of kids cutting up in the library. But it was laughter through tears, for both of us.

Bree knelt down with me, put her hand gently over mine, and slid the engagement ring back onto her finger. When she kissed me lightly on the lips, I felt the warmth, and a quiver, all the way down my spine.

“Alexander Joseph Cross, as many times as you want to ask me, the answer is yes. Always has been, always will be.”

Chapter 17

ROMANTIC FOOL THAT I AM, I wasn’t done yet. From Immaculate Conception, I drove us back downtown, where we checked into the Park Hyatt for the night. I had told Nana we wouldn’t be home.

After the bellman left us to our suite, Bree looked around and asked, “Alex, how much is this costing?”

I had a chilled bottle of Prosecco waiting, and handed her a glass. “Well, I’m not sure we can still swing college for Damon after this, but the view’s great, isn’t it?”

Then I sat down at the baby grand — absolutely the reason I’d chosen this place — and started to play. I stuck to old standard love songs, things like “Night and Day” and “Someone to Watch Over Me,” each one with a little message for Bree. And, by request, I mostly stayed away from the singing.

She sat next to me on the piano bench, listening and sipping the wine. “What did I do to deserve all this?” she asked finally.

“Oh, that part’s still coming up,” I said. “Something about taking off all your clothes. Slowly. Piece by piece.”