"Fucking hell, I had to get it right," Natasha was muttering under her breath, but Theo did not think she knew she was saying it out loud. She wrestled with something minute and glittering that she pulled from a tiny handbag. When she looked up at him again with her uncovered eyes, there was sweat trickling on her brow, and her breathing in gruff gusts.

"I practiced this in my head so many times," she confessed in her hoarse tone. "I fantasized about hot-air balloons, brass bands, and grand, elaborate parades. But finally, perfection for me was to be alone with you in a secluded little place where I could...