The Last Time They Spoke
She had barely finished signing the final lines to the papers when there came the clink of boots and spurs on the hard flooring outside of her office door. Her ears caught them immediately and she flinched, the ballpoint of her pen curving erratically on the document. Not now. It couldn't possibly be now. She wasn't ready.
There was a series of knocks on her door. His signature style—of course. There weren't any other desperados in the halls of the Prosecutor's Office and Police Department anymore.
"Lana, can I come in?"
Her mind burned for an excuse, an exit strategy. If she stayed silent, would he think that she wasn't in and come again later? She had just decided to try this solution when she saw the door handle swing down and heard the telltale click. The door swung open.
Jake Marshall walked in, shutting the door behind himself. Looking over to him she studied his features, noting again how he had aged all but overnight on that fateful evening weeks ago. There were more lines on his face and a tightness around his eyes. Even now, when he appeared to be in a state of relative contentment—God, would she have to tell him now?—there was still a grim, worn air that stayed about him, dampening his joy. Still, he looked far happier than he had since the last time they had met.
"Jake..." Her voice caught in her throat and she had to clear it. She couldn't muster a smile, not even a formal one. "Please, sit down."
"Just one minute."
The cowboy ignored the chairs and sidestepped her desk, approaching her directly. Startled, she rose to her feet as well, wondering what he could possibly be up to—and dreading the worst.
It was.
He took her hands, rubbing them gently with his fingers. She only realized how ice cold hers were, how warm his, from the contact.
"Jake."
"Lana, I've been an absolute beast, only thinkin' of myself these last few weeks. Yesterday, I came to the realization—the whole mess has been just as hard on you too. You were as close to Neil as anyone, and with what your sister went through and your sudden promotion..."
The colour drained from her features and she tried to stop him from continuing. He shook his head insistently, demanding to finish.
"Those spats we've had were all on account of my callousness. Shoutin' at a lady in such a manner, when she'd been through such a rough time..." Jake paused and chuckled in embarrassment for a moment. She managed to pull her hands away, but he used the freedom of his fingers to remove his hat from his head, placing it over his heart.
"Will you forgive me, bambina?"
That nickname caused a spark of pain inside her and a melancholy twitch of her lips.
"I forgive you. But please, if I may speak—"
He shook his head again. "I gotta get this over with, 'less I choke up and can't get it out no more." The hand that wasn't holding his hat reached under his poncho, to his pocket, and he drew out a tiny box. She shut her eyes, trying to keep the emotion from reaching her features. Clearly, Jake was too excited to notice or to stop.
"We've talked about this for quite a bit. It's always been 'someday, someday' – well I got to thinkin', and I thought—heck, why can't that someday be now? A confirmation of our intents. It comes really close after Neil's—" Here he hesitated somewhat, but soldered on. "Neil's passing, but I know it's what he would've wanted to see, too. You should've heard all the times he'd tease me to just get the act over n' done with already."
He drew her close with an arm. She couldn't find the strength to resist.
"So bambina, what do you say? Won't you hitch up alongside of me and let us go down the long road together, driving in double harness?"
She fought hard to look at him—those eyes of his, weary but still shining in anticipation—she fought hard to steady her voice for the words she had to say.
It came out colder than she'd intended.
"Detective Marshall. Let go of me, and sit down."