Holding his breath, Anthony waited for what felt like the longest minute of his life. It felt as if time had stopped moving altogether. (Was that even possible?!) He could perceive everything and nothing in the space between them: the way her hair fell over her shoulder repeatedly, the sound of thunder in the distance moving the storm away from them. He could even perceive the bloody dust motes disturbed from the many crates they’d moved about as he waited in agony for her to potentially shoot him right out of the sky.

But then, she didn’t.

The weight of a thousand bricks pressing into him seemed to alleviate all at once. For a moment, Anthony wasn’t even sure he’d heard correctly. Could it be true? Was he really about to get everything he’d ever wanted? Heart pounding fast, the brunette gave Torie's hands a gentle squeeze. His face broke into a genuine smile at the following quip, enough that both dimples managed to make an appearance, and a giddy laugh bubbled out. “I can do that,” he promised. Anything, really, for her.

The overwhelming urge to pick her up then and twirl her in his arms was great, but partially Anthony wondered if that would be too dramatic for this moment. It still felt like there was quite a bit unresolved, things he didn’t necessarily want to spoil their agreement with. So instead, he leaned forward, just this side of Too Close, and grinned. “Can I see you when you’re back in London then?” He hedged, eagerly. A part of him wanted to kiss her again, and his traitorous blue gaze flickered briefly from her eyes to her mouth and back, but he held firm. After everything they’d just been through, he partially didn’t trust himself, and partially wasn’t sure she’d even want him to. So the brunette grinned, patiently. They had all the time in the world now.

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