Page 52

Herndon, Virginia

KC had taken Yardley to see the cherry blossoms on the Tidal Basin path by the National Mall, and they’d walked hand in hand, the unseasonably warm weather making the pink petals rain along the path like fairy magic.

The day had cooled down fast, though. Yardley was thinking she should go into Atlas and Marla’s guest room and grab her cardigan to put on over her sundress, but she was so comfortable in a padded Adirondack chair, watching KC laugh at something Gramercy said where they stood by the grill, she didn’t want to.

KC was slaying her in that minuscule cropped T-shirt and low-waisted shorts. She looked edible, freckles everywhere, her hair just long enough to curl disobediently.

She caught Yardley staring and gave her a wicked smile that Yardley felt in every bone in her body.

Dating Katherine Corrine Nolan should be illegal.

If Yardley had known the first time around that this alternate, take-two version of their romance was an option, she would’ve quit the CIA and pursued a different calling a lot closer to what her mama had in mind for her.

The sort of calling that involved a lot of baking and keeping herself pretty for a devastating suitor.

Her only complaint was that she couldn’t have more of it. More ecstatic moments when KC’s voice came through on her apartment’s intercom and Yardley buzzed her in, desperate to kiss her, desperate to convince her they didn’t need to go out.

More long conversations into the wee hours of the morning on KC’s back deck, wrapped in blankets, talking about everything and nothing, showing each other funny videos on their phones, dreaming about the future.

More surprise outings to a display of miniatures and models at the Smithsonian.

More vacations like the one they’d taken to a tiny, pretty resort in Mexico, where they’d barely left the huge bed, the doors that led to the ocean thrown open, late-night birria burning their lips.

But more was hard to lay claim to, because by necessity being a field operative took KC out into the field, and Yardley’s hours at Langley as a handler were long. It wasn’t ideal.

Still, having work they believed in was something they both wanted—one of those things they talked about for hours when they mapped their future and made goals.

Yardley had an eye on even higher offices in the agency, and, while KC was enjoying her time in the field, she’d also talked to someone in Research and Development and told Yardley she saw possibilities for herself there. Someday.

“Finally got her down in the Pack ’n Play.” Kris emerged from the patio doors. “But it was a near blessed thing. Thought I’d never get her off my boob. Declan thinks she’s trying to teethe, but it’s too early still. He’s convinced his Corrine is advanced at everything.”

Kris and Declan’s baby was, quite simply, the most gorgeous infant Yardley had ever seen. That baby was giving her ideas. So far, those ideas also remained in the someday column, but she did have a lot of pictures of Corrine Byrne on her phone.

“Between you and me”—Kris leaned in, lowering her voice—“I think she takes after my sister and isn’t destined for the Nobel Prize, if you know what I mean. But god, I love her.”

“Phew.”

Kris laughed. “I’m starved and going to get another hamburger. Can I get you anything, love?”

“I ate two, and potato salad, and a huge Rice Krispie treat from the pan KC brought, and I just finished a bag of chips. I can’t move.

” Yardley stretched for emphasis. “Did I also have a long brunch on Capitol Hill after seeing the cherry blossoms? Yes. I did. There were poached eggs. There was gravy. Things filled with fruit, and fruit filled with cream. But I can’t find my regrets anywhere. ”

Kris laughed. Atlas’s solar party lights were just starting to blink on in the twilight. “Do you find the indictments that came in from the Justice Department to be what you anticipated?” Her voice had a hint of hesitation. “I thought they were… fair.”

Yardley reached up and took Kris’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Yes. Fair.” She studied her face. “How are you doing?”

Kris nodded. “Every day better and better.”

“You start your internship in tech tomorrow. How does that feel?”

Kris’s smile grew. “Can’t wait, if I’m being honest. Corrine already loves the daycare we found. She’ll be such a good American, scrabbling with the other babes. Maybe she’ll meet all the Congress folks’ babies and become part of one of your American political dynasties.”

“I honestly hope for more for my goddaughter.”

“We’ll see. Did KC tell you Declan’s work sponsorship came through at Sparkdesk?”

Yardley loved the excitement on Kris’s face. “She hasn’t had the chance. What a relief, huh?”

“It is. I’m all about doing everything by the book now, let me tell you. Look, here’s your girl with our host and George Clooney.”

Gramercy had tried very diligently to get Kris to stop calling him that, but she remained undeterred.

Atlas handed Yardley a glass filled with the pink lemonade Marla had made. “Too much party?”

“Maybe. I could rally, though. Don’t count me out.” Gramercy had just been embraced from behind by Lucas—rough-edged where Gramercy was polished, smiley where he was reserved, exuberant where he was watchful. But they looked at each other the very same way.

Her KC, who had been lifting with Lucas lately, and shared with him a sense of humor and inability to keep from calling a pig a pig, had nonetheless cultivated her deepest new connection with Gramercy.

He’s always so glad when I’m confident I can do something , she’d told Yardley. Reminds me I’m allowed to be confident.

Marla walked over, her long legs navigating the lawn in four-inch heeled sandals like she’d been born to it—which, just like Yardley, she had been.

Her bright silk romper swished against her deep brown, perfect skin without wrinkling, shifting, or revealing even a quarter inch of bra strap.

When she arrived at Atlas’s side, a familiar hush came over all of them, stupefied by Marla’s terrifying beauty.

She straightened the fall of Atlas’s crochet sweater, kissing them on the cheek in a way that made Yardley blush.

“Come with me.” She pointed at Yardley with a perfect garnet fingernail. “Excuse us.”

Yardley heaved herself from the Adirondack while looking around at her friends for a hint that might explain Marla’s command, but they gave her nothing. Spies, all of them.

“Is your handbag in the guest room with your cardigan?” Marla’s soft south Georgia accent floated behind her in the night air.

“It is.”

“But you only brought that itty-bitty clutch.” They’d entered the house now, and Marla closed the doors behind them. The noise from the party faded.

“I left my tote in the car.”

“Well, go on and get it.” Marla made a shooing motion with her hand.

Yardley, very confused, retrieved the straw tote she’d brought with her in case she needed anything for the long day and hustled back into the house.

Marla led her to her master bathroom. It was as scrupulously clean as an operating room, but with trays of mysterious potions instead of instruments.

Marla opened the tote and pulled out Yardley’s brush, her little makeup kit, and a second, spare cardigan with rhinestones on it that Yardley had thrown in the bag just in case she and KC went somewhere fancy for brunch.

“Sit here.” Marla pulled out a vanity stool. “Can I fix your hair?”

“Yes.” Yardley sat obediently. “But why?”

Marla took out a barrette that had slumped to the side and started brushing.

Yardley closed her eyes at how good it felt.

Marla’s strokes with the brush were as firm and no-nonsense as her mama’s.

“Because your girl’s got a ring in her pocket, and you and I understand that these kinds of things cannot be a surprise.

A woman needs some notice so you can focus on what’s said to you instead of why you didn’t get your nails done. ”

Marla picked up the weight of Yardley’s hair and brushed up her nape.

“Oh, good lord.” Yardley’s chest felt tight. She stacked her hands over her heart and took a deep breath.

She’d known this would happen at some point.

KC had not been even a little bit subtle.

She’d left tabs open on the computer and even one magazine ad flipped so Yardley couldn’t help but see it on the coffee table as a way to jump-start a conversation about what kind of ring Yardley would feel was suitable (a big one, mainly to make KC laugh, but there was a girlish corner of her heart that did shine with pure avarice), what kinds of proposals she approved of (no dancing, no Jumbotron, no strangers present), and whether it would be necessary for KC to speak to Yardley’s father first (yes).

It turned out, however, there was a Grand Canyon of a difference between knowing it would happen sometime and knowing it would happen as soon as Marla finished making her presentable.

Yardley focused on her breathing.

“That’s right, you pray.” Marla opened a drawer, pulled out a parting comb, and deftly sectioned Yardley’s hair. “You have an orange stick in your makeup bag. Work your cuticles while I finish with your hair.”

Yardley nodded and got out her Tony manicure kit to freshen her nails, which, thank god, she’d just had done.

She reviewed every single phone call she’d had with her nan lately, scrutinizing them for clues, because she knew Nan would know it was happening tonight.

No doubt Yardley would receive a call from Nan first thing tomorrow morning to get the details.

She finished with her nails and studied herself in the mirror. Marla had put her hair into a half-up, half-down style accomplished with artful, careless-looking braids that actually had about a dozen hairpins holding them in their bohemian configuration.