Cross Fire

of the Catholic University campus, where I parked.
    “Um, Alex?” Bree looked out the windshield — and almost straight
up.
“When we talked about a small wedding, I think I should have been a little more specific.”
    The Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception is one of the ten biggest churches in the world and, for my money, the most beautiful in Washington, maybe in the whole country.
    “Not to worry,” I told her. “We’re just passing through. Come on.”
    “Okay, Alex. I guess.”
    The Romanesque-Byzantine architecture inside those walls is almost overwhelming, but it’s unbelievably peaceful in there, too. The soaring arches make you feel tiny, while the million little gold mosaic tiles in the artwork fill every corner with a kind of amber light I’ve never seen anywhere else.
    I took Bree’s hand and walked her up one of the side aisles, through the transept, and into the wide area at the back. It’s enclosed from behind with a row of arched stained-glass windows, and open to the whole length of the cathedral at the front.
    “Bree, can I see your ring?” I asked her.
    “My ring?”
    She smiled, a little puzzled, but gave it to me anyway. Then I got down on one knee, and I took her hand again.
    “Is this a proposal?” she asked me. “Because I’ve got a little news for you, sweetie. I’m already there.”
    “In front of God, then,” I said, and took a breath because I realized suddenly I was a little nervous.
    “Bree, I didn’t need you before we met. I thought I was doing okay — I
was
doing okay. But now… here you are, and I have to think that’s for a reason.” I hadn’t rehearsed any speech, and it felt like I was stumbling over my words, not to mention the lump in my throat. “You make me believe, Bree. I don’t know if I can explain what that means for someone like me, but I hope you’ll let me spend the rest of my life trying. Brianna Leigh Stone, will you marry me?”
    She was still smiling, but I could see her fighting back tears now. Even here, Bree was trying to stay tough.
    “You know you’re a little crazy, right?” she said. “You know that?”
    “If lovin’ you is wrong,”
I whisper-crooned to her,
“I don’t want to be right.”
    “Okay, okay, anything but the singing,” she said, and we both laughed like a couple of kids cutting up in the library. But it was laughter through tears, for both of us.
    Bree knelt down with me, put her hand gently over mine, and slid the engagement ring back onto her finger. When she kissed me lightly on the lips, I felt the warmth, and a quiver, all the way down my spine.
    “Alexander Joseph Cross, as many times as you want to ask me, the answer is
yes.
Always has been, always will be.”

Chapter 17

    ROMANTIC FOOL THAT I AM, I wasn’t done yet. From Immaculate Conception, I drove us back downtown, where we checked into the Park Hyatt for the night. I had told Nana we wouldn’t be home.
    After the bellman left us to our suite, Bree looked around and asked, “Alex, how much is this costing?”
    I had a chilled bottle of Prosecco waiting, and handed her a glass. “Well, I’m not sure we can still swing college for Damon after this, but the view’s great, isn’t it?”
    Then I sat down at the baby grand — absolutely the reason I’d chosen this place — and started to play. I stuck to old standard love songs, things like “Night and Day” and “Someone to Watch Over Me,” each one with a little message for Bree. And, by request, I mostly stayed away from the singing.
    She sat next to me on the piano bench, listening and sipping the wine. “What did I do to deserve all this?” she asked finally.
    “Oh, that part’s still coming up,” I said. “Something about taking off all your clothes. Slowly. Piece by piece.”
    First, though, we had dinner sent up from Blue Duck Tavern and shared everything — orange and arugula salad, fresh ahi tuna, soft-shell crabs, and a warm-centered chocolate cake for two.
    I opened a bottle of Cristal with dessert, and we finished it in the big limestone soaking tub afterward.
    “I feel like we’re already on our honeymoon. First a church, and now this,” she said.
    “Consider it a preview,” I told her, running a bar of lavender soap up and down her back, then her long legs. “Just a little taste of the future.”
    “Mmm, I like the future.” She put her mouth on my shoulder and bit down softly when I abandoned the soap and started using my