Author's Note: The second of two chapters dealing with "A Rose for Ever After."
Then Came Love
Chapter 53
The next morning, Kate had to try harder to assume her usual cool, unflappable Detective Beckett façade as she entered the precinct. She could almost–almost but not quite–be relieved that she was, as usual, arriving alone since Castle had, also as usual, left her apartment early this morning so he could go home to have breakfast with Alexis before the girl left for school. (Because of Alexis, Kate and Castle almost never arrived at the precinct together even when Kate stayed at the loft.) She suspected that if Castle had been with her, she really would have given herself away by smiling foolishly at him, at the very least.
She stepped out of the elevator, noting that Ryan was at his desk while Espo was nowhere to be seen for the moment. "Ryan," she greeted.
Ryan gave a little start as he spun around, his eyes wide so he momentarily resembled a deer in headlights. "Beckett! Ah, the results of the surveillance you ordered are on your desk," he hurriedly volunteered.
"Great, thanks," she nodded before making her way to her desk.
As Ryan had reported, the surveillance file sat in her inbox and she flipped it open as she turned her computer on, sparing a moment to be thankful that she hadn't ordered surveillance on Kyra too, as she'd been momentarily tempted to do last night. But with Castle's last retort echoing in her mind, she'd backed down from the temptation. And maybe it had at least partly been the last gasp of her own rational mind pushing back, no matter what she had said to Castle, because she'd known in some corner of her mind that it really was unlikely that Kyra had killed Sophie. Motive (which Kyra did have) aside, Sophie had been several inches taller than Kyra so the likelihood that dainty, petite Kyra had managed to strangle Sophie from behind–at the angle which the ligature marks showed–was slim, not outright impossible but unlikely.
Now as long as the surveillance didn't show that Greg had done anything incriminating, Kate could relax more.
As it happened, Greg hadn't done anything incriminating according to the surveillance. He appeared to have spent the evening at the hotel bar with his uncle and then with his brother and one of the groomsmen (not Mike Weitz), before going up to his room (a different room than the one in which Sophie's earring had been found, she knew). From the pictures, he also appeared to have still been entirely sober, which said something for his calm and might indicate innocence.
Well, that was something at least.
She turned to her computer and then started to go through the background checks that had come in about the rest of the wedding party, nothing particularly interesting at first glance. In spite of her focus, her concentration abruptly deserted her more than an hour later when the elevator door opened and she sensed, knew, that Castle had arrived and couldn't keep herself from looking up to confirm her instincts.
It was Castle, offering cheerful greetings to people he passed as he usually did, but in spite of his social bonhomie, she knew that his attention was actually on her, knew he caught the smile insisting on tugging on her lips. "Good morning, Detective," he greeted, quite as briskly as if he hadn't left her naked in her own bed just a couple hours ago, although his tone was belied by the look in his eyes. "I bring sustenance," he announced as he took his seat, placing a cardboard cup holder with two cups of what she knew were the herbal tea she normally drank these days and the black tea he'd taken to drinking in deference to her avoidance of coffee, along with a white paper bag that she guessed contained an oatmeal muffin, also as usual. (Not for the first time, she felt a little tendril of warmth curl around her heart at the thought of how Castle had quietly and without even mentioning it to her, cut back on his coffee consumption almost as much as she had. It was, she had found, characteristic of him that he didn't mention most of the small, considerate gestures he was capable of.)
"So I see," she managed in as close to her usual manner as possible, an attempt that was entirely ruined as he let his fingers linger over hers as he passed her cup of tea to her and a smile escaped her. It really was absurd. He had, after all, been bringing her tea and healthy muffins for months now but this morning, somehow, with his voice saying 'I'm in love with you' lingering in her mind, it felt almost like the first time. Almost like the first time he'd brought her coffee, getting her usual order exactly right, and she'd first thought that Castle, irritating as he was, could also be surprisingly thoughtful.
"Thanks, Castle." Oh lord, was that her voice, so soft and almost breathless?
"Always."
She flushed and hurriedly ducked her head to inspect the contents of the paper bag as if it had suddenly become the most interesting thing she'd seen in weeks when she became belatedly conscious of an odd lessening of the usual noise level and glanced up to see people studiously not looking at her or at Castle.
Oh. Oh damn. She had forgotten–or deliberately pushed out of her mind–that her argument with Castle yesterday had not been subtle and would have been noticed by enough of her colleagues to once again put her relationship with Castle on the front page of precinct gossip, so to speak. And of course the fact that she and Castle had obviously reconciled would be a matter of interest to her nosy colleagues. It occurred to her too that it probably explained Ryan's jumpiness earlier, if he'd been braced to be on the receiving end of her continuing bad mood if she and Castle had not already made up.
Really, she didn't know how her colleagues could act as if they had nothing better to do besides gossip over her private life. They were cops, after all, not a bunch of spinsters in a small town like in one of the Miss Marple mysteries.
She swept a pointed look around the bullpen and everyone ostentatiously returned to their work, the bustle and low buzz of conversation snapping back into place with just a shade too much alacrity to be natural. Oh, damn the nosiness of cops.
She turned her attention back to work even as she started to eat her muffin.
"You know," Castle observed conversationally, "you have a very effective death glare. If you use that look on the Sprout, she'll probably end up being the best-behaved child ever."
She scoffed a little. "Considering the Sprout is half you, I doubt it since I haven't noticed you finding me all that intimidating." (She liked that about him, at least most of the time, although she wouldn't have minded sometimes if he listened to her instructions a little better.)
"What can I say, I guess I'm just that brave. I impress even myself sometimes," he declared, striking a mock-heroic pose like George Washington crossing the Delaware.
She snickered in spite of herself as he smirked. And there, he had done it again, made her forget her irritation at the fishbowl nature of the bullpen.
He quickly sobered. "Say, Beckett, I was thinking there's something about the case that doesn't make sense to me. What's the victim's motive?"
"The victim's motive?" she repeated. "What do you mean?"
"Sophie–what was the point? We know she contacted a drug dealer, roofied Mike Weitz, stole his keycard, and then snuck into Greg's room to try to seduce him but what I'm not seeing is why. Why would she go to all that trouble? Are we supposed to believe she did all that just because she has a thing for Greg?"
Huh. "You have a point," she acknowledged. "It does sound far-fetched, put like that." She remembered, too, that Mike Weitz had characterized Sophie's demeanor as "determined"-but why had she been so determined if her goal was simply to try to seduce Greg into some last fling before his wedding? Kate hadn't looked at it from quite from that angle before, focused on who might have motive to kill Sophie, not about Sophie's motives. But then this was why Castle was useful; he often came at things from a different way.
"It sounds insane. I mean, I get unrequited love–as the saying goes, been there, done that." He momentarily paused, something flickering across his expression as he looked at her, and she realized with some surprise and a little flutter of her heart that he was thinking about her, in the weeks after That Night. He blinked before she could react and shifted back into business. "But to go to such lengths? It doesn't make sense to me. There's got to be something we're not seeing, maybe someone we're not seeing."
"Someone we're not seeing–you mean, like an eminence grise?"
He blinked and stared at her. "You are so hot. Say that again, please."
She suppressed a smirk. Only Castle. "No. Now focus."
He pouted for a moment before complying. "Fine, yes, someone who was pulling Sophie's puppet strings."
"But why? Even assuming this Svengali exists, what's the motive?"
"So hot," Castle murmured in another aside. "That's the thing. Seducing Greg the night before the wedding serves no real purpose unless Sophie planned to tell people about it. Whatever happened, Greg certainly had no motive to mention it. And if Sophie talked–"
"The wedding would be off," they finished in messy unison.
"But Sophie was killed before she could talk." She paused and made a small face. "That seems to bring us back to Greg again for motive."
"Maybe but I was thinking, if we assume Greg was telling the truth, the Svengali's motive in sending Sophie to seduce Greg appears to have been to get the wedding called off so we might be looking for someone who doesn't want Greg to marry Kyra and is really strongly motivated to make that happen."
"That actually makes sense."
He affected injury. "You don't have to sound so shocked."
"Any theory from you that doesn't involve CIA conspiracies or alien abductions is a shock," she shot back with a smirk.
He clapped a hand to his chest in mock dismay. "That is so unjust! I do not suggest alien abduction theories."
She opened her mouth on a teasing retort but before she could, Espo arrived with more background on Greg, which wasn't particularly helpful, but he was followed by Ryan, who did have some very interesting information about Sophie and her last days. They both snapped back into work mode, following the victim's money trail–or her lack-of-money trail, which seemed to vindicate Castle's Svengali theory (which she was sure he would gloat about later).
The trail led them to Greg's uncle–and another confrontation between Castle and Greg except this time, Kate couldn't help but notice, Castle wasn't engaging in the confrontation. Regardless, she stepped in to summarize for Greg his uncle's suspicious behavior and Greg was distracted.
The evidence came in and she (reluctantly) sent the boys in to get the final confession while she watched through the glass. She didn't like it but in her condition, she knew Montgomery would not be happy if she took on this interrogation, not of a man with the kind of bulk Greg's uncle had and not when they already knew he was the killer. Damn it, she still hated this, hated being relegated to the sidelines like this.
"You can say it, you know," Castle commented conversationally from beside her.
"Say what?" she huffed a little.
"That I was right, of course." He widened his eyes at her. "I said someone was pulling Sophie's strings and lo and behold, I was right! I really am brilliant, aren't I?"
"You're certainly not modest."
He pasted on a theatrical pout. "Please, Beckett, would it kill you to admit that I was right?"
She sternly bit back a smile. "It might and I don't want to risk it. I have to be careful of my health, you know," she returned primly.
"You're mean, you know that. I don't know why I like you so much," he pretended to sigh.
She widened her eyes, assumed a vacuous simper, and pitched her voice to sound as much like a breathless bimbette as she could manage. "Oh Mr. Castle, you are such a genius. You are just the bestest writer who ever lived. And you know so much about crime. I don't know how the NYPD ever managed to function without you."
Castle shuddered. "Stop! Oh please, stop!"
She stopped. "What, I thought you'd like that better," she said, dropping the saccharine tone, while pretending innocence.
"That was just disturbing! I don't want nightmares."
She rewarded him for this sentiment–a man who viewed a brainless woman as a nightmare–by slipping her hand into his and briefly resting her head against his shoulder, something she would normally never do in the precinct but they were alone right now after all. And that was how they watched the rest of the interrogation as the boys coolly laid out the damning evidence they'd found in Ted Murphy's room.
Afterwards, she got started on the paperwork to wrap up the case while the boys took Ted Murphy down to the cells and Castle talked to Kyra to tell her about the case, about Greg's vindication. And if she found herself sneaking glances at Castle and Kyra in the conference room, well, it wasn't because she was worried or anything because she wasn't; she was only curious.
She couldn't quite see Castle's expression, just his profile, but she could see Kyra's and it occurred to her that now, they really did seem like old friends. Whatever had been unresolved between them had been resolved; Castle had his closure now. Kyra bent and kissed Castle's cheek–and Kate abruptly realized that she really had no business to be essentially spying on what was a private conversation and hurriedly swiveled back to focus on her paperwork.
Only to pause and look up to meet Kyra's eyes as Kyra paused beside her desk. Kyra smiled a little. "Take care of him, will you? He's a good guy and he deserves it."
"I know he is and I'll try."
Kyra's smile deepened. "Good." She briefly rested a hand on Kate's shoulder and then she was gone.
Castle resumed his usual seat by her desk and she studied him. "You okay?"
"Kyra loves him so she's happy," was his somewhat oblique response. He blinked and focused on her. "How much longer do you think your paperwork will take?"
"Give me a half hour or so to finish up the immediate paperwork. The rest can wait until tomorrow." She had, at least, mostly resigned herself to obeying Montgomery's strictures against overtime, helped by how much easier she grew tired these days.
Castle nodded and settled back into his chair to amuse himself on his phone while she did paperwork and afterwards by unspoken agreement, they went home to the loft for dinner.
It was later that evening, after dinner and after Alexis had gone upstairs to her room to do her homework and while Castle was washing the dishes, that Castle's phone rang and he wiped his hands dry before answering. "Castle… Kyra, hi."
The mention of Kyra's name surprised her and she glanced at him even as she replaced him in front of the sink to finish washing the dishes. He shot her a look of mild chiding which she ignored. She might be pregnant but she was perfectly capable of washing the dishes, never mind how Castle (often aided and abetted by both Alexis and Martha) tried to shoo her away from performing even the most basic household tasks. Anyone might have thought she was attempting to lift weights or engage in some other heavy manual labor the way Castle and his family (and fine, even her dad to a lesser extent) tended to react. In another month or so, she half-expected Castle to start trying to spoon-feed her–and they might end up having a real fight then. Up until now, she had mostly refrained from arguing, helped by the fact that if she pushed back, Castle usually gave way. She wasn't being reckless or unreasonable, after all.
Similarly, this time, aside from the single look, Castle didn't try to interfere, only listened to whatever Kyra was saying before he smiled. "That sounds great and I'd love to… Okay, see you then and congratulations."
He ended the call. "That was Kyra," he explained unnecessarily. "She invited us to her wedding, tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" Obviously, Kyra and Greg had already been ready to be married but even so, tomorrow seemed awfully fast to have planned a second ceremony.
"Yeah. She and Greg talked and decided they didn't want to postpone it any longer so they're going to go ahead and get married, no fancy ceremony this time, just the two of them and the wedding party, plus us, tomorrow evening at the hotel."
"Wow, Kyra and Greg really don't want to waste any more time, do they?"
He lifted one shoulder into a half-shrug. "Apparently, some of the wedding party has other commitments so they can't stick around in the City for much longer and as it happens, one of the invited guests is a judge who's a family friend of Greg's so he agreed to officiate. So, what do you say, Beckett, want to go to a wedding?"
"Sure, Castle. It'll be nice to see the happy ending to a case. As long as another body doesn't drop before tomorrow evening," she qualified out of habit.
He made a small moue of understanding. "Of course, that's always implied when we make plans, isn't it?"
She rewarded him for that demonstration of understanding about the demands of her job with a quick kiss on his chin before she finished up washing the dishes.
And the next evening, once she finished her shift, she and Castle returned to the hotel for Kyra and Greg's wedding. She had worn a nicer blouse than usual and changed into a skirt in the locker room of the precinct for the occasion.
Although she wondered if Castle, at least, felt a moment of regret for accepting the invitation because the first person they saw on entering the small event room the hotel had allocated for the wedding was Sheila Blaine, almost walking right into her. Beside her, she sensed Castle stiffening a little.
Sheila stopped short, her features hardening. Clearly, Kyra had not mentioned to her mother that they would be coming. "Detective. Richard," she greeted flatly, her tone and expression about as welcoming as a person viewing an insect who'd crawled into their food. "I thought we'd seen the last of you now that this nonsense about Sophie is over."
Really, what was the woman's problem? Even if she hadn't approved of Castle as her daughter's boyfriend, Kyra was just about to marry another man. And that aside, Castle had his faults but at his worst, he would never deserve even a tiny fraction of the venom Sheila was practically spitting.
Castle opened his mouth to respond but before he could, Kate sidled a small step to the side in an attempt to edge in front of Castle, and she momentarily spared a moment to regret not being able to wear her usual heels since in her flats, Castle was noticeably taller than she was. Well, never mind. She manufactured a cool, polite smile. "Kyra invited us since Castle was instrumental in helping the police solve Sophie's murder to allow Kyra and Greg's wedding to go forward. And if you'll excuse us, we should congratulate Kyra and Greg."
She didn't wait for Sheila's response, only tugged on his jacket before walking away from Sheila, knowing Castle would fall into step beside her as always, his large warm hand finding its customary spot on the small of her back.
"Have I told you that I like your dad?" he bent to murmur in her ear.
A little giggle escaped her. "In comparison to Sheila, that doesn't sound like much of a compliment."
"Fair point. Compared to Sheila, I really really like your dad."
She bit back another laugh. "Yeah, well, he likes you too."
"I'm vastly reassured," Castle quipped. "And did my ears deceive me or did you admit that I was instrumental in helping to solve the case?"
"I said it for Sheila's benefit."
"You were defending me. My hero."
She bit her lip and tried not to flush. "It was nothing," she demurred but couldn't say anything more as they'd reached Kyra who turned away from talking to her maid of honor.
"Kate, Rick, I'm so glad you could make it," she beamed at them.
"We wouldn't have missed it," Castle answered as Kate accepted Kyra's quick hug.
"Thank you for inviting us," Kate responded. "And you look beautiful."
"Oh, thank you. So do you. You're not too tired, coming here after work?" Kyra really was sweet.
"Oh no, I'm fine. I spent most of the day just sitting at my desk anyway."
"Kyra," Greg approached them, placing a hand on Kyra's shoulder and nodding at Kate and Castle with what was probably the first genuine smile he had ever directed at Castle. "Detective, Rick, thanks for coming."
Castle held out a hand and Greg shook it. "Congratulations, Greg, you're a lucky man."
Greg relaxed further, his smile becoming a beam. "I know I am. Thank you, Rick." He turned to Kate. "And thank you, Detective, for making this possible."
"I was just doing my job," she gave her stock response.
"Well, thank you, anyway. I'm sorry if I was rude the other day," he added.
Kate had to laugh a little. Having a one-time suspect apologize was probably a first. "No need to apologize. I deal with much worse every day."
Greg nodded and turned to his fiancée. "Kyra, Judge Elcott is here now and is ready to start."
"Oh, of course. Excuse us," Kyra added before she and Greg left and walked across the room to take their places in front of an older man, who had to be the judge.
As if everyone in the room had been watching Kyra and Greg–which was probably the case–the small wedding party didn't need any sort of prompting and all took their places in a rough semi-circle behind Kyra and Greg. And in what was a very short time (at least when compared to the length of the commitment they were making), Kyra and Greg were married, each of them pronouncing their vows in clear, confident tones. Kate felt silly, absurd tears pricking at the back of her eyes–oh, these stupid hormones–because Kyra and Greg looked so happy and while Kate had stopped believing in happily ever after, she did think that Kyra and Greg would stay happy. After all, they had survived Greg being suspected of murder on the eve of the wedding, to say nothing of Sophie's ill-fated seduction attempt, and if they could survive that, it was hard to imagine that the usual troubles of everyday life could break them apart.
"By the power vested in me by the state of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife," the judge declared. "You may kiss the bride."
The newly-married couple kissed as everyone applauded and then Greg released Kyra for–oh, right, the traditional tossing of the bouquet, Kate realized, silly tradition that it was. But almost before the thought had crossed her mind, she found the bouquet coming straight at her and was forced to catch it to save herself from being smacked in the face. Beside her, she heard Castle laugh as everyone else cheered and clapped and she had to laugh as well, momentarily using the bouquet to hide her flushed face. She was starting to see another reason why Kyra and Castle must have gotten along so well; Kyra had a sense of mischief too and was certainly not being subtle in her encouragement of Kate's relationship with Castle.
Not that she actually believed the silly superstition about catching the bouquet because she didn't. At all.
Besides, Castle might not even want to get married. He had, after all, already been married twice and burned both times. It would hardly be surprising if that had put him off marriage for good.
And not that it mattered to her. She and Castle were doing just fine as they were. Well–except for the one detail that she had yet to talk to him outright about her moving into the loft before the Sprout was born. She'd been intending to but had been distracted in the Hamptons and then since returning from the Hamptons, Castle had wanted to stick closely to Alexis, partly because he had missed her and partly because he'd wanted to make sure that Alexis wasn't troubled by Meredith's deserting Alexis for that one evening the way she had. And then, of course, the last couple days, she'd been doubting the entire future of their romantic relationship.
So maybe she and Castle did need to have a serious talk sooner rather than later.
She was pulled back to the present by the renewed sound of applause and cheers and saw that it was because Greg had pulled Kyra into another kiss, dipping her back a little this time.
She glanced at Castle to see that he was watching Kyra and Greg too, a faint, somewhat wistful smile on his lips and she wondered what he was thinking, if he was remembering his own relationship with Kyra. Even if he wasn't interested in Kyra like that anymore, it had to be a little odd to watch an ex marry someone else.
But then he blinked and turned to smile at her, slipping his arm around her shoulders. "Hungry?"
"I could eat," she admitted blandly, quite as if she wasn't almost constantly hungry these days.
Castle's eyes lit with humor, his lips quirking, but to his credit, he didn't laugh, only nodded. "I think the hotel planned a dinner for the wedding party but I told Kyra not to include us in the head count for it. Want to just slip out now? We've already wished Kyra and Greg well. I don't think we need to linger."
True and after all, it might get a little awkward if they stayed much longer since she and Castle weren't actually part of the wedding party. "Yeah, let's just slip out."
They duly turned and headed to the exit as inconspicuously as possible, stopping by the coat rack by the door to shrug into their coats, Castle holding her coat for her as he always did, and bending to nuzzle a quick kiss to the hollow behind her ear after he had done so.
At the last moment as they slipped out, Castle paused, glancing back, and she looked over to see that Kyra, at least, had noticed them leaving. Castle raised a hand and Kyra smiled before her attention was pulled to her new brother-in-law. And Kate thought she really was glad that chance or fate (when had she started thinking in terms of fate, thinking like Castle) or whatever had arranged for this case to fall into their laps. Because Castle did have closure for his relationship with Kyra, their story had an end now, and Kate knew that would matter to Castle.
"Do you want to stop somewhere to eat or just go straight back to the loft and eat there?"
"Do you mind if we just go to the loft?" Whatever she had said to Kyra, she was tired, got tired much more easily these days.
"Of course I don't mind," he agreed easily. So back to the loft they went–back home (when had she started to think of the loft as home?)
The loft was, somewhat to her surprise, dark when they arrived.
"Alexis has plans with friends for dinner," Castle commented, as if guessing her thoughts. "As for my mother, who knows. I've given up on trying to keep track of her."
She hid a smile at his characteristic show of exasperation with Martha and her active social life.
"I'll get a vase for your bouquet," he offered, opening one of the kitchen cabinets and reaching up to the top shelf to retrieve a vase.
She handed him Kyra's–well, it was hers now–bouquet as she perched on one of the stools at the kitchen island. But the bouquet, or rather the traditional belief ascribed to catching the bouquet, reminded her that she should talk to Castle about a next step for their own relationship. "Actually, Castle, I wanted to talk to you about something," she began, trying to sound calm, and then inwardly cringed because even to her own ears, she sounded hesitant, unsure of herself. Nice way to sound calm. It wasn't as if she really had any fears that Castle would say no but then, as usual, it was less about Castle's reaction than it was about her own because she had never suggested, or even thought of suggesting, that she move in with a boyfriend. So this was all new and different–as, it seemed, just about everything about her relationship with Castle was.
Castle glanced at her as he filled up the vase with water, a smirk tugging on his lips. "You don't have to be nervous, Beckett. I don't expect you to have bought me a ring," he joked.
She choked on air. "A–what?! That's not–I wasn't–Castle!" she spluttered, knowing she was flushing bright red and unable to help it. She wasn't–she really wasn't–at all ready to think about that! Not yet–wait, what–not yet, as in she would be, at some future time? She pushed the thought aside–that way lay panic. She was not ready to think about that.
He gestured to the bouquet. "Well, you did catch the bride's bouquet and you know what that means," he said with mock innocence.
She might just end up strangling him sometime. "It's a silly superstition and I don't believe in it anyway."
"No?" he waggled his eyebrows at her. "And yet, you blushed an awful lot when you caught the bouquet for someone who doesn't believe and you're blushing again and seem very flustered now."
She clutched at what remained of her dignity. "I'm not flustered; I'm thinking it's a minor miracle I haven't killed you yet," she returned primly.
He only smirked. "Eh, you wouldn't do that. How would you explain it to the Sprout?"
"That's the only reason I'm refraining," she told him tartly.
He grinned. "You only say that but I know you like me. Now, what did you want to talk about?"
She belatedly realized that thanks to his provocative teasing, she had… forgotten or at least been entirely distracted from her earlier nervousness. He had essentially baited her out of her nervousness. Of all the sneaky and irritating and–oh fine, clever and kind of sweet too (weirdly)—things to do. Such a very Castle-like thing to do too. "I was thinking that with the Sprout coming along, it would make sense, would be easier, if the Sprout had just one home for every day and, well, you have Alexis and Martha here and the loft is bigger so…"
It was Castle's turn to choke a little, turning it into a cough. "Beckett, are you–do you mean you want to move in, here?"
She bit her lower lip. "Yes? If it's okay with you and with Alexis and Martha, of course," she hurriedly added.
He dropped the flowers into the sink and rushed around the island so fast he knocked his hip against the side of the island but didn't even seem to notice before he caught her up in his arms with enough fervor that he surprised a small gasp out of her, and then bent and kissed her as if he thought he might be dying and kissing her was his only chance of salvation. Kissed her for so long and with so much intensity she was a little dizzy when he finally broke off the kiss, had to clutch at his arms.
"Yes," he blurted out. "Of course, yes, are you kidding me? And Alexis and my mother have already told me they think you should move in."
A little, breathless laugh escaped her. "Really?"
"Kate, if you want to move in, then all I want to know is when." He paused and then added, his expression so bright it was almost painful to look at, "How about tomorrow? I can clear my schedule, call a few guys I know to help–"
She laughed again, a wobbly little laugh this time. He was so happy and she had been the one to make him this happy. "I do need to work tomorrow, remember?"
He heaved an exaggerated sigh and grimaced. "Oh, fine, yes, if you must."
She lifted her hand to ruffle his hair above his ears in one of those little caresses she knew he liked. "But then it's the weekend and I was thinking I could pack up more of my clothes and bring a couple suitcases over? What do you think?"
"I think my closet might not be big enough for your shoe collection," he pretended concern.
She nudged his shoulder. "You have a problem with my shoes?"
"As long as you come with your shoes, nope, no problem."
"Nice save."
"I know, I'm very clever that way."
She had to laugh and then leaned in to kiss him quickly. "If you say so, oh vain one. Now, I do believe you promised me dinner, didn't you?"
"Coming right up," he returned, kissing her nose before releasing her.
He made quick work of finishing up with the bouquet and equally fast work of making dinner, a vegetable stir fry with noodles, while she munched on celery sticks with peanut butter. Warmth bubbled up inside her, seemed to wrap around her heart like a blanket. She knew there would be issues, logistics to work through, and some possible squabbles as they tried to accommodate her things into the loft, making it more of a shared space for them rather than just his, but for now, she could only feel happy. Moving into his home might be a big step but it also felt right, somehow. As if being here, at the loft, with Castle, was where she belonged–she and the Sprout too.
~To be continued…~
A/N 2: Thank you, as always, to all readers and reviewers. And apologies in advance as I won't be able to post next week as I'll be travelling.
