Page 153 of The Sun & Her Burn

It hurt to know that his pain had been so obvious for so long.

“I am,” he told Imani. “For a long time, the only thing that brought me joy was acting. Now, I have someone who reminds me how to live for myself instead of my characters.”

Imani and I both swooned in tandem.

At the end of the interview, Imani handed me another bouquet, this one a massive array of daisies.

“How did you know I love daisies?” I murmured as I accepted the flowers and tucked them into one arm along with the orchids. “Miranda tried to shame me out of loving them. She said they’re cheap and they smell bad.”

Adam shook his head at her antics as we walked to the next interview. “You have daisy designs on that white sundress you’ve worn a few times and on that lingerie I peeled you out of on Thursday. Not to mention, they suit you. They’re happy flowers.”

After the next interview, the reporter asked, “Is Adam romantic, Linnea?”

I laughed as I tipped my head at the flowers. “Wildly so, yes. Not just by giving me flowers but by showing up for me whenever I need him.”

Adam turned his head to kiss my hair, his arm secure around my waist where it had settled most of the evening.

“What is the most romantic thing he has ever done for you?” Amy Liu asked, a mischievous look in her eye.

“I haven’t done it quite yet,” Adam stepped in to say before I could. “But now seems as good a time as ever.”

“What?” I whispered as Adam led me to the right where a tall stage at the edge of the carpet obstructed my view of what perched on top. “What are you doing?”

“Going against my own orders,” he said mildly as he helped me up the stairs, “and begging you to fall in love with me.”

I stopped dead at the top of the treads, blinking madly at the small white stage arranged with dozens and dozens of flower arrangements of the same florals I held in my arms. Petals scattered over the glossy floor, and a trio of string musicians started to softly play “Feeling Good” by Nina Simone.

Until that moment, I never realized how fitting the childhood song was for my relationship with both Adam and Sebastian.

Speaking of the Italian, he stepped forward from where he had waited with the musicians to take the flowers from my arms.

“You knew about this?” I whispered in a hiss as he leaned close.

His grin was a quick flash, like the green light as the sun sets over the horizon. “You think he could plan something this romantic himself?”

He stepped away, giving Adam the floor.

I had only a moment to wish he could be at the center of this with us before Adam captured my entire attention, the axis of gravity for my whole universe.

He took my hand to lead me to the center of the small stage, then pulled me into his loose embrace. Vaguely, I was aware of cameras flashing, but the stage was tall enough that they couldn’t get a good angle on what was happening between us. A public moment, a bold declaration, but still somehow intimate.

“Adam,” I said, a question and trembling plea.

“You make me love the sound of my name,” he murmured, pushing his hand into the side of my hair to cup my face. “You make me love a lot of things again. Before you, I think I’d entirely forgotten how to dream and desire. I only knew yearning and angst.”

“What are you doing?” I asked because hope and love were threatening to burst through my skin like a supernova, and I wasn’t sure I could contain it.

I needed to know if this was really what it seemed to be andwhyhe was doing it in this manner.

We had spoken about simply going down to the courthouse to get married, done between one day and the next for the press to find out after the fact even though Mi Cha and Rachel wanted a big white wedding for us.

What we had was a business arrangement, so why was Adam looking at me like a blind man seeing the sun for the first time?

“I’m asking you to be my wife,” he murmured, bringing his other hand up to my face so that I was framed by him. His long-lashed eyes were as serious and intent as I’ve ever seen them, filled with something I had never witnessed before.

I thought it might have been hope.

“I’m asking you for permanence because I think, in both our lives, that has been lacking. I don’t want to marry you for three years, Linnea, I want to marry you for however long you’ll consent to have this old curmudgeon in your life and, maybe one day, in your heart.”