“I take no satisfaction in being right.” Ian sighed. “I am entirely at fault for putting you in harm’s way so many times.”

“A large cast played out this particular tragedy. We chose our roles. We can’t go back and change things,” I said. “I tried to. I think Wil was my trial amnesia, my effort to return to the sort of girl I was before … And after I killed the guard, I didn’t want to be myself anymore.”

“So you went back to Oswald.”

“Lily thinks I went back to Edna. I felt safe there. The ranch represented something to me, too: a home, family, love.”

“Do you still plan on marrying Oswald?”

“Why does it matter to you?” I molted from the sleeping bag and crossed my arms over my chest. “You already told me that you never wanted to see me again. You described your passion for the woman you love, but you’ve never told me who you love.”

“I was talking about the most exciting, beautiful, amusing, infuriating, irresistible woman in the world, the only woman I’ve ever loved.” He stood and came close to me. “I was speaking of my coy mistress.”

“Why don’t you just tell me directly, Ian?”

“I was waiting for you to tell me first.”

“The classic Mexican-vampire standoff,” I said, and took a step back. “You had Cricket and you still have Ilena, and you blew up a building.”

“If I’d wanted Cricket, I would have had her and the situation would have been so much easier because no one would have known. You wouldn’t have known. But I don’t want anyone but you,” he said. “As for those who died at the facility, I have no pity for merchants of death.”

I wanted to believe Ian. I did believe him. “You have too many secrets.”

“I would tell you my secrets if I trusted that you would not run away.”

“I’m not running away. I’m taking responsibility for the innocents who got caught in the trap you set for Poindexter.”

“Milagro, what if I could provide an alternative safekeeping for Ford and Cricket, so that you do not have to exile yourself like a succulent missionary nun, abstaining from all of life’s pleasures to act as a caretaker?”

When Ian took my hand in his firm, sturdy hand, a pleasurable fizz ran through me as quickly as an electric shock. He said, “Tell me that you love me.”

I looked into his dark eyes and said, “From the first moment I saw you. My heart knew, but my brain’s wiring is a little off. I interpreted the signal as sex, sex, sex. But my heart meant love, love, love.”

Ian bent to kiss my neck and must have felt my pulse racing. “I love you, Milagro de Los Santos. Tell me that you’ll marry me and never leave me.”