"Excuse me, ma'am," the porter said. "Is this man bothering you? Ma'am?"
Joy shook her head, but more as if she were mourning Gray's lack of mental health than answering the guy's question. She opened her mouth.
"I love you," Gray said.
Her face shot up to his, her lovely hair spilling back. "What?"
"I love you! Joy Moorehouse, I love you!" he bellowed.
Joy stared at him. And so did the woman sitting in the row of seats behind her. And the man across the aisle. Actually, pretty much all of the people on the train were focused on him.
The porter smiled. "Um, ma'am?"
"No, he's not bothering me. But he's nuts." She grabbed Gray's arm and tugged him down so they were sitting together. "What are you-"
He took her face into his hands and kissed her fiercely. "I love you. And I'm praying that I'm not too late."
She pulled back, dazed. "I don't understand."
He took her hands in his and squeezed. "How long is this train ride?"
"Uh, three hours."
"Good. I've got a lot of talking I need to do."
* * *
BY THE TIME THEY WERE just outside of Albany, Joy stopped believing it was a dream. Gray told her about everything. His mother. His father. His childhood.
"And that's why, the night I drove up to see you," he said, "I pulled away like I did. I promised myself that I'd never be like Papa, but there I was, traveling three hundred miles out of my way, just to see you. Even though I knew you weren't like my mother, I got burned so badly trying to keep my parents together that letting myself go, letting myself fall for you, it just didn't feel safe. I panicked."
He stroked her hair, his eyes tender. "Joy, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I put you through hell and that it took me so long to get my act together. You've never done one thing to justify my mistrust." He took a deep breath and dragged his hand through his hair. He'd been doing that a lot and now the dark waves were sticking up willy-nilly, at odds with his tailored, sophisticated clothes. "After you left the suite tonight, I felt like I had a chest wound, I hurt so badly, and I just couldn't let you leave without at least telling you how I felt. Look, I'll understand if you've had it with me. I wouldn't blame you. I've handled this relationship with a total lack of … finesse. Common sense. Hell, good manners. And you know what the irony is? I started out thinking I was too old for you. That's wrong. In a lot of ways, you're the mature one. You know how you feel. You can talk about your emotions. I'm a mess in that department. But … God … I … I love you."
Gray stopped speaking and looked down at their hands. He'd held on to her the entire time he'd spoken and now, in his silence, he was as vulnerable as she'd ever seen him. His eyes were raw, worried, even though she had the sense he was trying to hide his desperation.
"I need to know," he said softly. "Is it too late? Have I blown it?"
She put her fingertip under his chin and lifted his face up. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to his and watched as his eyes flared.
"No, you're not too late."
His arms shot around her, crushing her against his chest until she couldn't breathe. When he finally loosened his hold, she heard a sniffle and craned her neck around. The woman in the seat behind them was wiping her eyes, a sappy smile on her face.
"Now, about my job," Gray said, growing grim again. "I've done some things I'm not … proud of. I didn't want to talk about work with you because I hated being reminded of them. And frankly, I didn't want you to know."
In halting, slow words, he talked about John Beckin's death and the role he believed he might have played in it. His sadness, his self-blame were hard to see.
"Oh, Gray." She stroked his hand.
"Listen, I've got to be honest. I need to get out of politics. I can't do it anymore. I've been disenchanted with the whole scene for a couple of years, but now, after what happened with Beckin, I just-I can't do this. I can't … " He shook his head. "I can't do this. Which means, you understand, that I'm not going to be some big, powerful guy anymore. The President's not going to be calling me. I'm not going to be hanging with the country's leaders. I'm just going to be a regular schmoe-"
She put her hand over his mouth.
"No offense, Gray. But shut up." She smiled gently. "Do you honestly think any of that matters to me? I'll take you any way I can have you. And I'm glad you're getting out. If your work was making you that unhappy, if it was making you do things you hated yourself for, then you need to be somewhere else."
"But you deserve a man who's-"
"By my side and happy in his life."
He fell silent. "You know, maybe I can teach more at Columbia. I think I'd like being a full-time professor." He shrugged. "But who knows. Look, I've got to warn you, you're marrying an unemployed man, here."
"Marrying? Marrying?" she stuttered.
He smiled. "Come on, you don't think I'm ever going to let you go now, do you? I'm an old-fashioned kind of guy. I want to be married to my woman. And I want to be her husband. Your husband."
She stared at him. "You said you weren't ever going to get-"
He kissed her. "I was wrong."
Gray shifted his legs around and stood up. With steady hands, he straightened his tie and jacket.
And then in front of a carload of breathless strangers, he got down on one knee in the aisle.
"I don't have a ring, but I can't wait any longer. Joy, will you be my wife?"
As Joy clapped her hand over her mouth and started to blink fiercely, the woman sitting behind them poked her head around the seat. "Honey, if you don't marry him, I'm gonna."
Joy laughed and looked at the other passenger. "Sorry, but I think I'll take him up on the offer."
"Damn. I figured you might." The woman winked and disappeared back into her seat.
"So, will you?" Gray asked. "Even though I haven't done a damn thing right since we started seeing each other and even though I'm a pigheaded son of a bitch sometimes? I promise I'll always love you. And I'll always take care of you. And I'll-"
"Shh." Joy leaned over, stroking his eyebrows and his cheeks with her thumbs. God, she loved his face, his harsh, arrogant, beautiful face. She kissed his forehead and then his mouth. "Yes. I will marry you."
In a joyous rush, the sound of clapping rippled through the car. She looked up in surprise. As the train rolled to a stop at the Albany station, the other passengers stood and cheered.
While Gray stared up at her, his pale eyes shining through dark lashes, Joy couldn't believe what had happened. What was happening.
"Pinch me," she whispered.
"What?"
"So I know this is real."
Gray smiled, and pulled her down to his mouth. "How about I kiss you again, instead?"
"Even better."
* * * * *