Chapter 30
The house is too quiet.
It's not just the absence of the coffee maker's hum or the soft shuffle of footsteps from upstairs. It's the absence of her—Lily's laughter, her voice drifting through the walls, the low-energy hum of her presence. It fills every space he's always kept empty, and now that it's gone, it feels like something is missing that he doesn't know how to replace.
Quinn sits at his desk in the home library, laptop open. The warm glow of overhead lamps casts shadows on the bookshelves, each one carefully organized by color. Which, to be honest, is incredibly dumb—how the hell can you find anything that way? But he likes it anyway, because it reminds him of her.
He should be working—he's got notes to prep for a critical meeting in Tel Aviv, and his brain knows that's important. But the words on the screen blur together. They're static. His mind keeps drifting.
Lily's been gone for four days—off to Paris for a work trip. Despite all the nights he's spent alone over the years, something has clearly shifted. The silence in the house is louder than he anticipated.
He stares at the screen, his eyes unfocused. He's a master at compartmentalizing, at making work the center of his life. It's what keeps him grounded. But now, it's different.
It's not just the silence—it's her absence. He doesn't just miss her; he doesn't know how he ever lived without her.
Quinn exhales, pushing the thought aside. Focus. The briefing needs his attention. The President and the Prime Minister are meeting, and it's a big deal. But there's another reason he's stressing about the upcoming trip to Tel Aviv: the proposal.
His gaze flicks to the corner of the room, where a closet is partially open, revealing a safe. Only he knows the combination. Inside, there are several weapons, yes, but there's also something else—something that feels far less familiar in his hands than a Glock.
Honestly, he has no idea why he hasn't taken the damn ring out yet. He bought it a month ago, hid it in the safe, and still, the hesitation gnaws at him. This should be easy—like every other decision he's ever made: direct, no-nonsense, black and white. But this is different.
Lily is different.
The thought of her saying no—of her deciding that this life with him, a life of constant risk and unpredictability, is too much—haunts him. No matter how much he wants it, how much he needs it.
Quinn leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He's already thinking about the trip, about how he finally agreed to bring her with him. This will be one of the most critical sets of talks between U.S. and Israeli leadership. He and Saul and Dar will be there, along with the President and his advisors.
And Lily… she insisted on coming. After all, it's their anniversary, and since he's going to be stuck on another work trip—again—on their anniversary (as she's reminded him six times this week—her ability to multi-task even from Paris is remarkable), she wants to be with him. He finally relented.
It's not just about the trip, though, is it?
His gaze flicks over to the closet again. The ring.
He can't deny it anymore—Lily's become the most important thing in his life. She's the one he trusts with everything. The one he doesn't have to second-guess. The one who doesn't ask for more than what he can give. She's the person who made him want to stop pretending that his work was everything.
He thinks back to the early days, when it was all about the mission. The job. The thrill of the chase. The quiet, lonely satisfaction of accomplishing something—but always walking away. Always leaving.
When Lily came into the picture, everything changed.
A year ago, he would have never believed it.
Another thought pulls him back to the present: What am I waiting for?
He picks up his phone, glancing at the screen to check the time. It's still early in the day, but he knows she'll be calling soon—asking how the day is going, if he's remembered to eat, whether he got any sleep.
That's the funny thing about Lily. She's not just a partner in their life together. She's the one who keeps him grounded. She remembers the little things. Remembers to ask the questions he never thinks to ask.
"I love you," he says out loud, the words slipping out before he can stop them. It's the first time he's said it so easily—and suddenly, it feels like the most obvious truth in the world.
He has to make a decision. A commitment. If he wants her in his life for good, it has to be now. No more second-guessing. No more running.
The sound of his phone buzzing breaks his train of thought.
Lily.
He smiles, a slight tug of warmth in his chest. He picks up the phone, already halfway out of his chair.
"Hey," he says, his voice softening. "How was your day?"
As the conversation begins, he feels a small sense of relief. He's made his decision. The ring might still be in the safe, but it won't stay there for long.