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When he didn’t respond, she glanced up to find him watching her, his eyes following the path of her hands as they smoothed over her waist, her ample hips, the thick thighs hidden beneath layers of chiffon and wrestled into submission with the help of sturdy shapewear.

“You look beautiful,” he said. “You always do.”

Her cheeks heated, and she looked away, needing to calm the rising redness in her face before they walked the press line. “Shall we?”

Beckett exited the car first, buttoning his suit jacket as though he weren’t being bombarded by the relentless flash of cameras. He held his hand out to her, folding her into his steady grasp as she tried to exit the car gracefully, which was easier said than done in three-inch heels. She winced as the bright flashes went off around them, the floating orbs of light in her vision obscuring any of their surroundings. For a moment, it was just the two of them, the shouts from the press line melting into white noise behind the curtain of light.

He gripped her hand tightly, slowly raising it to his lips and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. The corners of his eyes crinkled as his lips turned up in a smile, the whole scene playing out in slow motion before her as she was plunged into the past, to the thousands of times he’d smiled at her, the thousands of times she’d felt his breath on her skin. For a moment, it was a decade ago, and he was looking at her across a poker table. Laughing with her in the wings before going on stage. Grinning as he tumbled her into bed.

“Beckett! Have you set a wedding date?”

The shouted question pulled Kat back to the present so harshly she felt the whiplash of it in her spine.

“Is it true you’re getting married in Rhode Island?”

The laughter faded from his eyes, his smile tight, and she fell into step beside him as they made their way down the path to the front door of the hotel, the press held at bay with steel barricades. She was vaguely aware of Rodney at their back, always a few paces behind, pausing when they paused to pose for the photographers. Beckett’s hand on her hip tugged her closer beneath the barrage of flashes. After a moment, he gave a small wave and turned them back towards the front door.

“Beckett! Is it true Kat’s books are about you?”

Kat’s heel caught in the sidewalk, and she pitched forward, cement rushing towards her face before she was caught around the waist, tugged against a firm chest. Beckett’s hand curled protectively around her head, tucking her face into the crook of his neck. The fingers of his other hand dug into her hip. She stumbled as she tried to catch her footing, her heel scraping across her calf, a stinging sensation bursting to life in its wake.

“Alright?” Beckett asked into her hair. She nodded against his chest, embarrassment making her face hot and her eyes sting. “I’ve got you, Luna,” he murmured, that hand on her hip stroking a soothing line over her flank.

Kat swallowed down the knot of tears in her throat. God, why was she always on the verge of tears lately? “I’m okay. Thank you.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. It was so gentle, such a small, tender gesture, and yet her heart squeezed, that invisible tether between them tightening around her sternum. He smoothly turned back to the press, smiling that plastic smile again, and gave a cursory head bob before leading her into the safety of the hotel lobby. Once inside, he took her by the biceps, holding her away from himself as his eyes darted around her face. “You’re okay?”

“I just tripped. These stupid shoes.” She lifted one foot to the side as if to illustrate the ridiculousness of the pointy heels, so much spikier than her typical pumps. But Beckett wasn’t looking at her shoes. The movement had shifted her skirt, revealing a stretch of her calf, pale skin marred by a long, angry scratch. Bright red blood beaded at the surface and dripped down her leg. “Shit.”

“You’re hurt.”

“It’s only a scratch.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“Barely.”

Beckett turned to Rodney with an arched eyebrow. The security guard nodded once, already pulling out his phone.

Kat glanced between the two men. “What kind of Jedi mind trick bullshit was that?”

“That’s not what a Jedi mind trick is,” Beckett said. “Nico would never let you live that down.”

She brushed off his comment. “I’m fine. Can we just go into the party now?”

“You’ll get blood all over your dress.”

“It’s a rental.”

“Someone ask for a first aid kit?” a young man in a hotel uniform asked, holding up a white case with the red cross symbol on the front.

Beckett held out a hand for the case. “Thank you. Is there somewhere my fiancée and I can be alone for a few minutes?”

“Of course. This way.” The young man turned on his heel and started down a side corridor away from the large signs directing guests to the hospital fundraiser. Beckett held out a hand, waiting for Kat to take it.

“Oh, fine,” Kat said, slapping her hand into Beckett’s outstretched palm and letting him lead her down the hallway.

The hotel clerk led Beckett and Kat to an employee bathroom at the end of the hall, the sounds of the party fading in the distance beneath the piped-in easy listening music. Beckett slipped the clerk a twenty-dollar bill, then held open the door for Kat, leaving Rodney to stand guard in the hall.