Rory hadn’t been planning it or anything. It wasn’t
marked with a big red circle on her calendar. The
realization just came to her as she and Tristan were
sitting there in the candlelight.
She was ready.
He hadn’t been pressuring her. In fact, he had made
it perfectly clear that even he didn’t think they
Rory turned this idea over and over in her head until
it began to settle. Yes, tonight was the night. She
reached across the table and placed her hand over
Tristan’s comparatively larger one.
“Tristan, baby.” Her calm tone and demeanor
automatically tore his gaze away from the menu. He
met her brown eyes with his blue, and without a word
being spoken a consensus was made.
“Rory, are you sure?”
She bit her lip, careful not to smudge her lipstick,
which was a new practice. Carefully picking up her
water glass and taking a sip, she nodded.
Turning his hand over and placing hers in his palm,
he studied her long fingers. “I’m sure,” she
reaffirmed, tracing his palm.
After a long and painfully distracted dinner, they
found themselves at the front door of the Dugray’s
abandoned mansion. As Tristan fumbled with locks and
keys and doorknobs with one hand, the other stayed
calmly intertwined with Rory’s. He felt a light tug,
and giving up on the keys, turned his attention to