“Do you think love and marriage and a honeymoon is all about sex? Do you think we don’t have anything unless we’re fucking like monkeys?”

She would have shaken her head but he was holding her too tightly.

“I love you, P.J. You. And that’s not conditional on us having sex yet, or even tomorrow, or next month. We’ll get there. And I plan on having fun every step of the way. But you know, I’m an old-fashioned guy, and I kind of like the idea of having paperwork that says you belong to me and I belong to you. So what do you say we hop a plane to Vegas after we’re done here and get hitched before our two months is up?”

She smiled down at him, a sheen of tears obscuring her vision. He leaned up and kissed the scar that ran straight down her midsection.

“I do love you, you know,” he said, repeating the words she’d spoken to him after that terrible day when she’d taken Brumley out.

“I do know,” she said softly. “And I think Vegas sounds like a hell of a lot of fun.”