And since it was Sunday, the only day her boyfriend, who, in an interesting twist, was turning out to be a bit of a workaholic, took off, they were planning to walk up the mountain.

It was also the day after she’d gotten the news that her novel was going to be published. It was just a small publisher. It wasn’t—probably—going to be a bestseller. It wasn’t going to make her rich. But she had done it. She had officially left one career and started another.

She didn’t bother treading lightly as she climbed the stairs back up to the garret. The noise she made was enough to wake Max Minimus, who popped his head up from his preferred spot in Max Maximus’s armpit and began yapping happily.

“I’m so proud of you.” Max smiled as she handed him his coffee.

“So you said last night, about a thousand times,” she said, but she was secretly thrilled by his praise. “I’m proud of you, too.”

“Me?” He yawned. They had flown in from New York two days ago, and he was still jet-lagged. “I haven’t done anything.”

“Oh, my mistake. I would have thought keeping an estate and a company running while you refocus the priorities of said estate and company and maintain a side gig consulting on museum design was something.” The Innsbruck mine museum was going to open this coming spring, and the firm he was working with had called upon his expertise for a few other projects. “Not to mention beginning drafting a book that will rewrite the postwar history of Eldovia with new information about Karina Klein.” As predicted, the news about Karina had made quite a splash among the few historians Max had told, and he had a contract with a university press for a book that was part national history, part family history. He even had some leads on Karina’s mysterious New York trip. So now there were two writers toiling away in the garret. And two reasons to keep up their two-countries lifestyle. “But, right, you haven’t done anything.” She grinned and shrugged playfully. “I guess I was wrong.”

He sat up and grabbed her. Max Minimus yipped while they made out.

“I should take him outside,” she said against his lips, waiting for the question.

He merely grunted and kept kissing her. Leave it to him to deviate from the script on today of all days.

The yapping escalated, and he relented, letting go of her and mock-glaring at the dog. “All right, all right.”

She clambered off him and went in search of her robe—they slept up here but kept their clothing in Max’s old bedroom, which had been converted into a closet.

“Will you marry me?”

There it was. She turned. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, bending over as he pulled his underwear on.

She smiled. “Yes.”

He fell off the bed.