Despite the flicker of hope that refused to be quashed by the evidence at hand, Duncan had been trying to forget about Alix for the past few days. It hadn’t been easy—especially once he realized how much had changed because of her. Even his room was different. When she started coming by every night, he had wanted to make her feel comfortable. He asked a decorator to redo a few things: switching out the silk sheets for cotton, using brighter, softer colors everywhere. He had told himself that it wasn’t for her, at first; it was just time for a change. Now, looking around, he saw that he had created an Alix-like room. It would be impossible to forget her here.

A knock at the door interrupted his moody thoughts and he jumped up, hopeful and expectant. At this hour, it could only be her. When he opened the door, it was all he could do not to ignore everything she had said to him in the car and take her into his arms. He smiled wide, in spite of himself.

“Hi,” she said nervously, playing with a lock of her dark hair. “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” he said, leading her to the couch. Blue, cotton fabric had replaced the dark leather since she’d last been there, but if she noticed, she didn’t say anything. He sat next to her and waited for whatever she had come to say. His heart beat faster as he tried to keep himself from hoping she was here to tell him she’d changed her mind.

“I got my final placement,” she said all in one breath, not looking at him.

He inhaled sharply. Nothing had changed, then.

“That’s great,” he said, trying to sound enthusiastic—and failing.

“It’s in Jordan,” she went on, turning slightly towards him without looking at him. “It’s where there’s the most need right now, and even without any medical training, I’ll be able to help with paperwork, welcoming people to the centers, helping them find what they need… that sort of thing.”

“I’m sure you’ll be wonderful,” he said encouragingly, though he wasn’t sure that she was looking for encouragement. He didn’t know what she wanted. That was, apparently, the problem.

“I’m really sorry I got so mad at you,” she said, taking his hand, still without meeting his eyes. She looked past him, to the wall behind him.

“It was my fault,” he apologized. “I was out of line.”

“Yes, you were,” she agreed with a small smile. “But I didn’t have to be so harsh.”

“I needed to hear it,” he admitted, more to himself.

“Your plan backfired, anyway, though” she went on. “My parents and I had a long talk. They’ll miss me, but they know that this is something I have to do. They’re proud of me.”

“I’m proud of you, too,” he put a finger under her chin so that he could finally look into her eyes as he said the words. “I love you.”

She took a deep breath.

“I know,” she said. “But—”

He didn’t let her finish. He kissed her with all of the passion he had in his heart, and after a brief moment of hesitation, she responded in kind. He knew she was leaving in just a few days, that the plans were already in motion, but maybe there was still a chance.

She wouldn’t have come to see him if she didn’t care for him. As he moved his kisses from her mouth to her neck, down her shoulders, gently lifting her shirt, he could feel it. She may not need him, but she wanted him. Could he make her want him enough to stay?

Duncan had to admit that the fabric couch was certainly more comfortable than the leather ever had been. He set a slow and steady pace, wanting to make it last as long as possible, not wanting it to end. If he could make this moment last forever, she wouldn’t have to leave.

The moment did end, however, and it ended spectacularly for both of them. As they lay in each other’s arms, spent and exhausted, he thought of one more thing he could try. A Hail Mary. She had used the expression once during a particularly boring cocktail hour. She had attempted to get Stella to call them with an emergency to get them both out, but she hadn’t replied. He remembered laughing out loud at the time, enjoying the American sports metaphors she would casually slip into her vocabulary on occasion. Now he’d see if it worked for Prynesse games of the heart, as well as in football.

She was curled up in his arms, every possible part of them touching. He breathed in her warm, familiar scent, running a hand along her dark hair that fell in soft waves down her back. She sighed deeply, her breath ragged as it hit his chest

“I wish I didn’t have to leave,” she whispered.

“Then don’t,” he said, shifting so he could look into her eyes. “Marry me.”