Chapter Text
It was certain that if anyone knew anything about anything, it was that Thomas Magnum had taken his damn sweet time asking Juliet Higgins to marry him. And Juliet had pointed this out to him after she said yes.
He had proposed at the estate just after sunset one evening, when the light over Oahu softened into a golden haze and the ocean beyond the property looked like a comforting backdrop of perfection. It had not been staged or theatrical and there had been no crowd hidden behind palm trees, no violinist stepping from the hibiscus, no drone spelling out romantic phrases in the sky. Thomas had known better. Juliet would have hated any of that.
Instead, there had been the two of them on the lanai of the guest house, the warm evening settling around them, wine glasses forgotten on the table between them and the faint sound of the tide breathing somewhere in the distance.
Thomas had been oddly quiet, which should have been the first warning.
Juliet had been sitting barefoot in one of the chairs, one leg tucked under her, a tablet balanced on her knee as she pretended to review notes for a case they had finished two days ago. In truth, there was nothing left to review and she was only doing it because the stillness had become a tad bit suspicious.
Thomas stood at the railing, facing the ocean, his hands braced on the railing.
“Are you brooding?” she had asked.
He glanced back. “No.”
“That was terribly fast.”
“Because I wasn’t brooding.”
“You were just staring into the abyss with your shoulders doing that tragic American thing you often do when you’re brooding.”
“My shoulders don’t do a tragic American thing, Higgy.”
“They do. It’s how I know when you’re brooding, Thomas.”
He had smiled at that, but not enough. Not the way he usually did when he was about to needle her into a fight just to watch her eyes sharpen. Instead, he turned around and looked at her like she was his everything.
Juliet remembered the exact sensation of that moment. The way the air shifted and the way her body knew something before her mind caught up. Thomas’s face softened into something she had seen before, but never quite like this. Was it determination? Most certainly. Was it love? Absolutely. But, it was also fear.
It wasn’t the kind of fear that someone faced in battle. Nor was it the tense, calculating alertness of a man measuring his exits and angles. This was a quieter, more vulnerable kind of fear that came not from the possibility of losing a fight, but from standing in front of someone with his heart in both hands and no weapon drawn.
Juliet had lowered the tablet. “Thomas?”
He walked toward her then, slow and steady, which somehow made it worse. She would have preferred a sudden ambush. Maybe a trespasser through the window or an assassin in the shrubbery. Something with rules that she could understand.
Thomas stopped in front of her and then he knelt.
Juliet’s breath vanished. It simply left, traitorous and dramatic, abandoning her completely.
“Thomas,” she said, though it came out much softer than she intended.
He reached into his pocket. The small box appeared in his hand, dark and simple, and Juliet stared at it with a peculiar, stunned clarity. She noticed the hinge. The way his thumb rested along the side and the faint tremor he would deny until the sun burned out.
“I had a speech,” he said.
Her eyes lifted to his. “I’m sure you did.”
“It was pretty good too.”
“Of that I have no doubt.”
“Like academy award winning speech level good.”
“That seems unlikely.”
He laughed once, under his breath, but his eyes did not leave hers. “I’m not going to remember any of it.”
Something inside her bent and softened. Thomas opened the box. The ring caught the last of the sunlight, small and brilliant, nothing ostentatious. Perfect in a way that made her chest hurt. It was not a ring chosen to impress anyone but it was chosen by someone who knew she would rather be understood than displayed.
“Juliet,” he said, and then stopped.
She waited.
Thomas swallowed.
“Higgy, I spent a long time thinking that a day like today wasn’t possible for me,” he said. “Then I met you. Meeting you changed everything.”
Her fingers curled against the arm of the chair.
“You irritated me,” he continued. “Got under my skin quite a bit.”
A laugh escaped her, wet at the edges. “Yes, quite an excellent start.”
“From the get go, you’ve challenged me. You see through me. You understand me in a way nobody else does.”
“Terrible habit I suppose.”
“You’re pretty sexy when you’re angry. You pretend not to worry when you’re absolutely terrified of something. You say my name like an accusation and yet somehow you also make it sound like… I’m home.”
Juliet blinked hard.
Thomas’s voice roughened.
“For a while I felt like I’d never have this. I thought I’d found that perfect person for me once and I couldn’t have been more wrong about it. But that lesson taught me a lot. I don’t want a life where I just make it through. I want the mornings when I wake up next to you. I want the arguments throughout the days while we’re on cases together. I want the quiet and the danger, if it comes. And I want the peace, when we’re lucky enough to get it. I want you there at the desk in the study, by my side each and every day, across every year I’ve got left.”
Juliet had forgotten how to move. Thomas looked at her as if the entire world had narrowed to the answer she had not yet given.
“So,” he said, with a brave little flicker of humor that nearly undid her completely, “since I have apparently taken my sweet time…”
“Oh, you noticed, did you?”
“Juliet…will you marry me?”
There were many things Juliet could have said. Something elegant, something British and composed or even something devastatingly witty that would preserve her dignity and allow her to pretend her heart was not currently behaving like a wild bird trapped in a chapel. Instead, she said, “Yes.”
Thomas froze.
For half a second, he looked like a man who had expected the answer and still had not been prepared to survive hearing it.
Then he exhaled. “Yeah?”
Juliet laughed then, properly this time, because the idiot had asked her to marry him and then needed confirmation.
“Yes, Thomas. Yes.”
His smile broke open. It was not polished or controlled. It was definitely not one of his crooked, teasing grins. It was pure, unguarded joy and Juliet felt the sight of it lodge somewhere beneath her ribs.
He took the ring from the box and slid it onto her finger with more care than the operation required. When it settled into place, he looked down at it, then back at her.
Juliet should have said something romantic. She should have and she had every intention of saying something profound.
Instead, she lifted her hand, admired the ring for three full seconds and said, “Glacial.”
Thomas blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You were glacial.”
“Higgy, I just proposed to you.”
“Yes, eventually.”
He laughed, still kneeling in front of her. “Call me thorough.”
“The Ice Age was thorough, Magnum.”
“I wanted the timing to be right.”
“Continents drifted faster than you, darling.”
He caught her hand and kissed her knuckles, right above the ring. “You said yes.”
“I did.”
“Final answer?”
“Final answer.”
Juliet leaned forward and touched his face. The teasing faded, leaving only the thing underneath it. The terrifying, radiant truth of him. Of them.
“I love you, Thomas,” she said.
Thomas’s expression softened again. “I love you too, Higgy.”
Then he rose, pulled her up with him and kissed her as the last of the sunset disappeared behind the palms.
That had been the proposal. It was quiet, imperfect and entirely theirs. And now, less than twenty four hours later, it had become everybody’s business.
Which, Juliet thought as she stood in the doorway of La Mariana with Thomas’s hand warm at the small of her back and half their Ohana staring at them like they had arrived carrying a live grenade wrapped in ribbon, was precisely the problem with happiness.
It attracted witnesses.
Rick saw the ring first. To his credit, he did not speak immediately. He froze behind the bar, one hand still gripping a towel, the other resting beside a basket of limes. His gaze dropped to Juliet’s left hand, sharpened, then snapped to Thomas’s face.
Thomas gave him the smallest nod.
Rick’s mouth opened, closed and then opened again. Then he pointed the towel at Thomas like a weapon. “You proposed without me? How could you?”
Juliet closed her eyes. “And so it begins.”
Thomas sighed. “Rick.”
“No, no, no.” Rick came around the bar with the grave offense of a man who had been denied his constitutional right to interfere. “I don’t ask for much, man.”
T.C., seated at one of the tables near the windows, lifted his beer. “Actually, you ask for a lot, Orville.”
“No, no, no. I ask for reasonable things.”
Gordon, beside him, did not look up from his phone. “So you’re conveniently forgetting when you asked me to have HPD close the main street out front because you wanted to test a food truck layout?”
“That was a brilliant community building event that would have made for an amazing St. Paddy’s Day, Gordie. And you ruined it.”
“It was still quite a big ask,” the detective replied.
“What about when Rick had his wedding and asked all of us to spend two hours every week to learn a flash mob dance to surprise Suzy?” Magnum added.
“Hey, that was totally worth it and you know it,” Rick said, defending his ask.
“It was a big ask,” T.C. said in agreement.
Rick ignored him and pointed at Thomas again. “For the record, I should have been consulted on this.”
Thomas’s hand remained at Juliet’s back, steady and possessive in a way that made her want to lean into him and elbow him simultaneously.
“About my proposal?” Thomas asked.
“About the logistics.”
“The logistics were kneeling and asking Higgy to marry me. It’s not rocket science.”
Rick looked wounded. “That is exactly the kind of underdeveloped planning that happens when you don’t loop me in.”
Juliet looked at Thomas. “You see? This is why I agreed quickly. Any longer and he might have appeared from the shrubbery with a clipboard and a megaphone.”
“I would never hide in shrubbery,” Rick said.
T.C. took a drink. “You absolutely would do that. And have!”
Rick considered that. “For love, maybe.”
From the far side of the bar, Kumu rose from her chair. Unlike Rick, she said nothing at first. Her face had changed the moment she saw Juliet’s hand. The humor softened into something warm and deep and Juliet felt an unexpected pressure behind her eyes.
“Oh, Juliet,” Kumu said.
It was only two words. That was the trouble with people who loved you. They could undo you with very little effort.
Juliet straightened by instinct. “Yes, well. Apparently I’ve agreed to legally tolerate him for eternity.”
Thomas looked down at her. “Legally tolerate?”
“Yes. I was previously tolerating you out of generosity. Now I’ll be required to by law.”
Gordon finally looked up. “That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard from either of you.”
“You’re welcome,” Juliet said.
Kumu crossed the room and wrapped Juliet in a hug before Juliet could properly prepare herself. Kumu held her tightly, with no fuss and no performance, just immediate certainty.
“I’m so happy for you,” Kumu whispered.
Juliet swallowed. “Thank you, Kumu.”
Kumu pulled back enough to look at her face. Her eyes flicked briefly toward the ring, then back. She smiled, but there was understanding in it too. Kumu knew her well enough to see the joy and the panic braided together like two bright cords. Juliet appreciated her for not naming both in public.
Suzy appeared next, moving quickly from the table where she had been helping Joy color on a paper menu. “Let me see, let me see.”
Juliet surrendered her hand with the resignation of a woman turning over evidence.
Suzy gasped. “Thomas. This is beautiful.”
Thomas shifted, sheepish and proud. “Thanks.”
Rick leaned over Suzy’s shoulder. “Huh.”
Juliet narrowed her eyes. “Do not critique my ring, Rick.”
“I wasn’t going to critique it.”
“You made a sound.”
“It was an appreciative sound.”
“It sounded like a man about to offer unsolicited commentary.”
Rick held up both hands. “No commentary. It’s classy. Understated. Very Jules.” He paused. “I’m almost offended you did that well without me, buddy.”
Thomas smiled. “I struggled through.”
T.C. got up next. He looked at the ring, then at Juliet.
“Congratulations, Higgy-Baby,” he said.
“Thank you.”
Then he turned to Thomas. For a second, neither of them said anything. There were years in that silence. War. Sand. Captivity. Survival. The ugly miracle of still being alive long enough to stand in a restaurant on Oahu while one of them got engaged.
T.C. reached out and pulled Thomas into a brief, hard hug. Thomas clapped him once on the back.
When they separated, T.C.’s voice was dry. “Took you long enough, brother.”
Juliet pointed at him. “Thank you for that, T.C..”
Thomas groaned. “Not you too.”
T.C. shrugged. “I just call it like I see it.”
“It wasn’t that much of a delayed proposal,” said Thomas.
Gordon slipped his phone into his pocket and stood. “It was definitely some type of delay.”
Thomas looked at him. “You want to join the pile-on, Gordie?”
“No.” Gordon came closer, face unreadable except for the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth. “I want it noted that I’m happy for you both and also relieved the island can now move forward from the suspense.”
“Mahalo for your civic concern, Gordie,” Thomas said.
Gordon nodded gravely. “We all suffered for quite some time.”
Juliet extended her hand. “Would you like to inspect the evidence, Detective?”
Gordon glanced at the ring. “Seems legitimate.”
“High praise, Gordie,” Juliet said.
“For him, that was confetti,” Rick added.
Gordon looked at Thomas. “Congratulations, Magnum.”
“Thanks, Gordie.”
Then, after the smallest pause, Gordon added, “Don’t mess it up.”
Thomas smiled. “I’ll do my best.”
Juliet lifted a brow. “A stirring vow.”
“I’m saving the good material for the wedding. You’ll see.”
Rick snapped his fingers. “Vows. We need to talk vows.”
“No,” Juliet said immediately. “We do not.”
“We absolutely do.”
“We absolutely do not.”
Rick pointed at her. “That tone right there? Put it in the vows. It’s authentic.”
Thomas leaned down near her ear. “You know, he might actually be useful.”
Juliet turned her head slowly. “Do you want to make it to the wedding?”
His grin warmed against her temple. “Yes, dear.”
“Then do not encourage him.”
A small voice piped up from below table height.
“Wedding?”
Everyone looked down.
Joy stood beside Suzy, three years old, curls slightly wild, one crayon in each fist. She had abandoned the paper menu, apparently in favor of intelligence gathering. Her eyes were wide and serious.
Suzy crouched beside her. “Yes, sweetheart. Uncle Thomas and Auntie Juliet are getting married.”
Joy looked at Thomas, then at Juliet and then at the ring.
Then, with the solemn authority of a monarch assuming command of a naval fleet, she said, “I need flowers.”
Rick slapped a hand to his chest. “That’s my girl.”
Suzy laughed. “You need flowers?”
Joy nodded. “For throwing.”
Juliet glanced at Thomas. “I believe we’ve been assigned a flower girl.”
Thomas looked down at Joy. “You interested in the job?”
Joy considered this as if the terms required legal review. “Do I get a princess dress?”
Suzy covered her smile.
Thomas nodded. “Probably.”
“Do I get snacks?”
Rick raised a finger. “She’s a master negotiator if I do say.”
Juliet crouched down, bringing herself eye level with Joy. “I think snacks can be arranged.”
Joy stared at her. “Can I throw flowers at Gordon?”
Gordon’s face went flat.
Juliet’s mouth twitched. “Not directly at Gordon.”
“Near Gordon?”
“That may be discussed.”
Gordon looked at Thomas. “Control your wedding party.”
Thomas held up his hands. “I’ve been engaged for less than a day. My party is still forming.”
Joy seemed satisfied. She stepped forward and patted Juliet’s hand, the one with the ring, with sticky solemnity.
“You can marry Uncle Thomas,” she said.
Juliet bowed her head. “Why, thank you. I was hoping for your blessing.”
Joy leaned closer and whispered, loudly, “He is silly.”
“Yes,” Juliet whispered back. “I am quite aware.”
Thomas looked offended. “I’m standing right here.”
Joy nodded. “Still silly.”
T.C. lifted his beer. “Hard to argue with that.”
Rick returned behind the bar, already reaching for champagne. “This calls for a toast.”
“It’s two in the afternoon,” Gordon said.
Rick paused. “And?”
“It’s a restaurant.”
“It’s my restaurant.”
“You have other customers.”
Rick looked around. There were exactly two other customers, both locals who had known Rick long enough to understand that any major event in his orbit became public weather. One of them raised his glass.
“Congrats,” the man called.
Juliet waved faintly, horrified by the expanding radius of attention.
Thomas noticed and moved his hand from the small of her back to her waist, thumb brushing once, just enough to ground her. He did not draw attention to it. He did not ask if she was all right. He simply stood with her as the room warmed around them. But that was her Thomas. He could be infuriatingly loud when he wanted a reaction and quiet when it mattered.
Rick poured champagne for those who wanted it, sparkling cider for Joy and something nonalcoholic for Gordon, who technically was still on the clock. Kumu came to stand beside Juliet again, Suzy on her other side. T.C. and Gordon lingered near Thomas. Rick lifted his glass from behind the bar like a man born for an audience.
“Okay,” Rick said. “I would like to say a few words.”
“No one is shocked at all,” Juliet murmured.
Thomas hid a smile.
Rick pointed at her. “You’ll want to be kind to me. I’m probably giving a speech at the wedding.”
“Probably?” Juliet said.
Thomas looked suddenly fascinated by the floor.
Juliet turned toward him. “Thomas.”
“I haven’t made any decisions.”
Rick blinked. “You haven’t made any decisions? I’m your best man.”
T.C. coughed into his glass.
Thomas’s eyes flicked toward Rick, then T.C., then Gordon. “I was going to ask.”
Rick stared. “Going to?”
“We got engaged less than 24 hours ago.”
“And you slept?”
Juliet sighed. “Rick.”
“No. I’m just trying to understand the priorities. Man gets engaged, fails to notify best man, sleeps eight hours, strolls in here like society has rules.”
Thomas tilted his head. “I slept six.”
“That makes it worse.”
T.C. leaned toward Gordon. “The man can’t let it go.”
Gordon nodded. “Nope.”
Rick lifted his glass again. “As I was saying before I was emotionally ambushed by members of my own ohana…”
Suzy gave him a warning look. Rick softened. The room did too. He looked at Thomas first. Then Juliet.
“I’ve known this guy a long time,” Rick said. “Long enough to know he had the best thing in front of him for years and he walked around with blinders on despite us telling him he was a crazy son of a bitch.”
“Touching,” Thomas said.
Rick ignored him. “I’ve also known him long enough to know when something’s changed. And Juliet…” He turned to her, and for once his expression held no joke. “He changed when you came into his life. I’m not going to brag and say I saw it right away, but I definitely did. We all did. Well, except for you two.”
Thomas’s jaw tightened slightly. Juliet felt it. Felt him.
Rick continued. “But, Jules, you also reminded him there was more to life than surviving the bad parts. And somehow, for reasons experts may never fully explain, he did the same for you. I truly couldn’t be happier for the two of you.”
Juliet looked down quickly at her glass. Thomas’s thumb brushed her waist again.
“So,” Rick said, his voice thickening just enough that he covered it by clearing his throat too loudly, “to Thomas and Juliet. May your marriage be long, your arguments entertaining and your emergency calls to me limited to business hours unless there’s a zombie apocalypse.”
Everyone laughed.
Thomas raised his glass. “To Juliet.”
Juliet looked at him, startled. The whole room quieted. Thomas did not seem to notice anyone else.
“To Juliet,” he repeated, softer. “For saying yes.”
Juliet’s breath caught in the most inconvenient way. She raised her glass toward him.
“To Thomas,” she said. “For finally asking.”
The laughter returned, bright and easy, and the toast dissolved into congratulations, hugs, teasing, questions and Rick making a list of things he had apparently already decided were necessary going forward.
By the time they claimed a table near the windows, the engagement had developed its own weather system. Kumu wanted to know whether Juliet had thought about colors. Suzy wanted to know whether they wanted something small or medium. Rick wanted to know whether the reception would be at La Mariana because he had planning to do if that was the case. T.C. wanted to know when it was going to happen. Gordon just needed to know when to show up for it and Joy wanted to know whether flower girls outranked police detectives.
Thomas wanted to know whether Juliet was okay. He did not ask in words. He sat beside her, one arm across the back of her chair, his body angled subtly toward hers. Every so often, when someone asked a question, he watched her before he answered. Letting her lead. Letting her stop. Letting her breathe. Juliet loved him for it. She also wanted to kick him under the table for being so perceptive.
“Honestly,” Juliet said after Suzy asked again about wedding size, “we don’t need anything elaborate.”
Thomas’s eyes shifted to her. No one else noticed.
Kumu smiled. “It doesn’t have to be elaborate.”
“Exactly,” Juliet said, relieved. “Simple. Efficient.”
Rick frowned. “Efficient?”
“It’s a wedding, Juliet,” Suzy said gently, amused. “Not an airport security line.”
“I only mean the ceremony is the point. That’s all. ”
Thomas was very still beside her.
Juliet continued, because apparently she had decided to dig. “Everything else is essentially decorative logistics. Flowers, linens, seating arrangements, cake portions…”
“Cake portions aren’t decorative,” Thomas said.
Everyone turned to him.
Juliet blinked. “I’m sorry?”
Thomas looked suddenly aware he had spoken aloud.
Rick’s face slowly lit.
“Oh,” Rick said.
“No,” Thomas warned.
Rick leaned forward. “Oh, this is quite interesting if I do say so.”
“It’s not interesting, Rick.”
“Thomas, you have cake opinions.”
“I have general opinions about the dessert options for our guests.”
T.C. smiled into his glass.
Gordon said, “That sounds like cake opinions.”
Thomas pointed at him. “Stay out of this, Gordie.”
Juliet stared at Thomas, fascinated. “Do you have thoughts about flavors as well, or only portion integrity?”
Thomas leaned back. “I’m not discussing this in a hostile environment.”
Rick slapped the table. “He has flavors.”
“I do not have flavors. And you know what? I did most of the initial planning for our first wedding if you recall. It required a lot of effort.”
“He absolutely has flavors.”
Kumu’s eyes danced. “Thomas, do you want to be involved in the planning?”
Thomas looked at Juliet.
Juliet looked back at him, still half amused, half startled.
“I mean,” he said carefully, “Yes. I guess I do.”
Juliet’s expression softened despite herself.
Thomas cleared his throat. “Not in a controlling way. I just…” He glanced around at their people. “I want it to feel like us.”
The table quieted a little. Rick, for once, did not pounce.
Juliet studied Thomas’s face. The earnestness there disarmed her more than the teasing had. She did remember how much effort he had put into their “first” wedding. The “fake” wedding that was intended to help her stay in the country when her visa expired. She remembered how excited he was about that wedding despite it being a facade. But for this wedding, she saw that he was not excited about spectacle. He was not suddenly possessed by the spirit of a bridal magazine. He wanted the day, their day, with all these people. With her.
That should have made her happy. It did. It made her so happy she immediately wanted to fold it into something smaller, safer and less breakable.
“Well,” she said, lifting her glass, “us does not require a grand production.”
Thomas’s eyes remained on her. “No,” he said quietly. “It doesn’t.”
The conversation moved on, but something in his face did not. Juliet felt it in the spaces between the laughter. He was watching her now, not like a man suspicious of a lie, but like one hearing a note beneath the music that nobody else had caught yet. She told herself it was nothing. Just the suddenness of being engaged. The attention. The speed at which everyone seemed ready to drape fabric over her private happiness and invite guests to look at it.
She loved Thomas. She wanted to marry him. More than anything. That was clear as sunlight. Everything else was just… extra.
Across the table, Joy was explaining to Gordon that flower girls ought to have a badge and Gordon was making the face of a man who wasn’t sure how he got cornered into a debate with a toddler. Rick was arguing that a rehearsal dinner at his restaurant would be “historic.” T.C. was quietly stealing fries from Rick’s plate and Suzy was pretending not to notice. Kumu was watching Juliet with warm patience. And Thomas was still beside her, quiet now and thinking. Juliet knew that look.
It was the look he wore when a case had shifted, when a detail had clicked into place, when the obvious explanation was no longer enough.
She nudged him lightly under the table. “Stop it,” she murmured.
He turned his head. “Stop what?”
“Whatever you’re planning in that head of yours.”
His mouth curved. “How can you even tell anything by how I look?”
“I just can. I’ve seen you avoid thought for entire afternoons.”
“I’m not planning anything, Higgy.”
She narrowed her eyes. There he was. Thomas smiled, but the concern did not fully leave his face. Juliet looked away first.
Outside the restaurant windows, the afternoon sun glittered over the street, bright and ordinary. Inside, their friends laughed around them, already turning the engagement into something communal and loud and living.
Juliet twisted the ring once around her finger. It fit perfectly.
That was the problem with Thomas Magnum. He knew her size. Her coffee. Her silences. Her exits. Her fears, even the ones she had not introduced properly.
And while Rick began outlining what he called “a very tasteful, emotionally devastating best man speech,” Thomas sat beside Juliet and quietly came to a conclusion.
Juliet had said yes to marrying him. But she had not yet said yes to being celebrated. Not fully. Not without armor. Not without trying to make happiness practical enough to survive it.
Thomas looked across the table at her, at the woman who had faced armed men without blinking and now seemed wary of centerpieces and felt something in him settle.
She had all of them. Rick. T.C.. Gordon. Kumu. Suzy. Shammy when he arrived. Joy with her flowers. She had him. But there was someone missing.
Someone who knew the woman Juliet had been before Hawaii. Before the estate. Before cases across a shared desk and coffee on quiet mornings and Thomas sitting in the chair opposite her just to irritate her into smiling. Someone who could look at Juliet’s instinct to shrink the wedding and call it what it was with a British accent sharp enough to cut rock.
Thomas glanced down at Juliet’s ring and then back at her face. He knew exactly who he needed to call. But not yet.
For now, Rick was raising his glass again, apparently beginning a second toast despite the first one having already been more than enough. Joy was trying to climb into Juliet’s lap with a crayon and a demand for flower colors. Kumu was laughing. Suzy was wiping frosting off her daughter’s cheek from a cupcake no one had officially ordered. T.C. looked content in the quiet way T.C. did when the people he loved were all in one room and everyone was happy.
Gordon caught Thomas’s expression from across the table. His eyes narrowed slightly. Thomas gave him nothing. Gordon’s mouth twitched, as if to say, whatever you’re planning, make it someone else’s paperwork.
Thomas leaned closer to Juliet instead.
“You okay?” he asked, finally giving the question words.
Juliet looked at him. The answer was not simple. It never was with them. She was happy. She was overwhelmed. She was in love. She was terrified of how much she wanted. She was irritated that Thomas could see all of it.
So she lifted her chin and said, “I’m engaged to an American who apparently has cake opinions. I’ll recover.”
Thomas smiled. Juliet’s hand rested over his beneath the table, just for a moment.
“I am happy,” she said quietly.
His expression gentled. “I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah. I do.”
She studied him. “Then stop looking at me like I’m about to implode. I’m not a bomb, Thomas.”
“No,” he said. “You’re much harder to handle.”
“Excellent. Keep that in mind.”
He turned his hand under hers and threaded their fingers together. “I will.”
Rick’s voice boomed from the head of the table.
“To the future Mrs. Magnum!”
Juliet’s head snapped up. Thomas went still. Everyone else froze with the fascinated horror of people who knew Rick had just stepped into a minefield wearing tap shoes.
Juliet slowly turned toward Thomas.
He raised his free hand. “I did not authorize that.”
Rick looked between them. “What? Too soon?”
Gordon muttered, “He says, after detonation.”
Juliet leaned back in her chair, eyes on Thomas, one brow arched with lethal grace. “Mrs. Magnum?”
Thomas’s mouth twitched despite the danger. “Has a ring to it.”
“The ring is currently on my finger, Thomas. Do not test its loyalty.”
T.C. nearly choked on his drink. Suzy covered Joy’s ears too late, though nothing inappropriate had been said. It just felt safer.
Rick pointed at Juliet. “Hyphenation is also very modern these days.”
Juliet’s eyes did not leave Thomas’s. Thomas grinned. And there it was again… the flash of the future, unexpected and bright. Not frightening this time. Not entirely.
Mrs. Magnum.
Mrs. Higgins-Magnum.
Juliet Higgins, who had once believed names were covers, identities were temporary and home was something other people risked losing.
Now she sat in a noisy bar in Oahu, her hand linked with Thomas’s under the table, a ring on her finger and a three-year-old negotiating floral authority beside her.
Maybe happiness was not practical. Maybe that was the point.
Juliet squeezed Thomas’s hand.
“Careful,” she said softly, so only he could hear. “You’re looking rather smug.”
“I’m engaged to you.”
“That is not an excuse.”
“It’s the best one I’ve ever had.”
She wanted to roll her eyes. Instead, she smiled. And Thomas, who had waited so long to ask the question, smiled back like her answer was still happening.
Around them, the Ohana kept laughing, arguing, planning, teasing and slowly turning their private yes into something bigger than Juliet knew how to hold.
But Thomas held her hand beneath the table and so she let it come. For now.