Chapter forty-three
North Cleveland Park
Washington DC

Spencer

Eventually someone walked by walking a dog and he politely cleared his throat and at that moment Spencer and Susanna realized that they should probably stop kissing on the sidewalk and start heading home. They walked in comfortable silence for a while before Susanna spoke up. "What are you thinking?"

"That I have abandonment issues." Spencer admitted. "Maybe you aren't the only one who should be in therapy?'

"Oh?"

"Betrothal. Definition, a mutual promise or contract for a future marriage. Which is probably not something we should be talking about right now."

"We shouldn't?"

"We've only known each other for ninety five days." Granted for the last seventy of those days he had seen or at least spoken to her nearly every day. He realized that the best part of every day now was reconnecting with her again, seeing her smile or at least hearing her voice. There was this thing, this connection, that kept pulling him to her from any distance away, even across the country.

She laughed. "In my old life we'd be married with a baby on the way by now. Not just working toward becoming fully engaged in a year or two."

"Really?" Fast was clearly a relative term. "The problem is that I don't want to lose you. I don't even want to send you inside." They had reached the house, which for a moment seemed like some great, evil sinkhole that would pull this lovely warmness away from his side. "I have this bizarre urge to take you home and tuck you away in my sock drawer. Or maybe ring this house with barbed wire. Paint 'I belong to' on your forehead. I'm sorry; I don't know what I'm saying."

But she was laughing, delightedly, even as she led him toward the large, old swing in the shadowed part of the porch. "You never told me, marriage? Children?"

"Yes, to both. Maybe." Emily had asked him about baby geniuses once, and then there was Henry and in the back of his mind he'd considered it ever since. "I mean yes, to marriage. I'm not Morgan, I always wanted to…belong to one…woman and just have one person there for me. As for children, um, maybe. My mother's illness is genetic and I'm not out of the window for showing first symptoms yet."

"Oh."

"But in another five years the odds would be in my favor, and if all went well with it then yes, I think I would like…a child. Maybe…two." He could still remember the first time he held Henry, so very brand new. From that moment he'd been hoping to have some of that magic for himself somehow, someday. He pulled his knees up, even as she nudged his arm to be let in, and soon they were curled up against the pillows, tucked into the shadows, in their own world. "Betrothal, I like the idea."

"Do you?" Susanna asked.

"I've never been the date around kind. And I like the thought of…belonging but being independent for a while. You know, working toward something rather than having it happen suddenly. I prefer time to adapt to change."

"I like the thought of that too." She admitted. "And I know you're not the kind to try to lock me into a woman's place, home and babies and nothing else."

"Never." He couldn't even imagine. "I want you to chase every dream you have. I just want to always be able to come home to you, wherever that is."

"I always want you to come home to me." She replied. "I always want you to tell me about the amazing new thing you did or learned that day. I never want you to stop talking with me."

That, he thought, was something he could easily do. There were details, thousands of details, but in so many ways they wanted the exact same thing, enough to take the next small step. "So do you want to then?"

"Do I want to what?"

All of a sudden he was too nervous to outright ask. "This whole betrothal thing…."

She was grinning, so brightly it almost eclipsed the moon. That was proper for her; she belonged to the moon somehow. He would never look at the moon again without seeing her. "You mean will you marry me? Someday, without any rush."

There was some click, as the world became right "As I recall the legend Blanchfleur asked Percival. I'm not going to make his mistake. Yes. Yes I will." With that he leaned in and started kissing her again. She still tasted of cinnamon and milk, but that hot dark thing was for now overwhelmed by joy.

He was so lost in those kisses that he didn't hear the car come to the curb, or the gate opening, and he only vaguely registered the sound of boots on the porch. But the voice filtered in to his consciousness. "I'm guessing his phone's been off." Morgan said. "We're on our way." He hung up the phone. "Reid, I am so sorry to interrupt. You have no idea." Spencer stopped long enough to give Morgan his best 'this better be worth it' look. "They've got a shooter over at Georgetown.

In that instant his mind clicked over with the risks, issues, concerns…wait… "Alex."

"She's not answering either."

But Spencer was already moving. "Come on." He said as he tugged Susanna to her feet and led her into the house. "Mrs. Knox?" He called.

She came up from the basement. "Dr. Reid, what is going on at Georgetown? They just broke into my shows."

"I don't know; we're on our way there. Is everyone in for the night?"

"They are now."

"Good. Lock up behind us and if anything strange happens at all call 911." He turned and cupped Susanna's cheek. It wasn't just Percival's mistake; he didn't want to make his own again either. "I love you."

"I love you too." She replied as she kissed him quickly. "Come home to me."