Snow crunched beneath our feet as we walked the Warren property.
Christmas Eve dinner had been everything Ed and Lorraine could make it, turkey, stuffing, Lorraine's famous apple pie, prayers and laughter. It was a warmth that made even the darkest work feel worthwhile. But when Sarah caught my eye across the crowded table, I knew she wanted to talk. Really talk.
We'd slipped out after dessert, bundled in coats and scarves, following the path through the back garden toward the pond that had frozen solid two weeks ago. The moon was nearly full, casting silver light across untouched snow. Our breath made small clouds that disappeared into the darkness.
"I need to ask you something," Sarah said.
Her voice was careful. Measured. The voice of someone who'd been thinking about this for a long time.
"Okay."
"What are we building?" She stopped walking, turned to face me. Moonlight caught the uncertainty in her eyes. "Because I'm falling deeper, Paul. Every day, every case you come back from, every time I see you fight for people you've never met. I fall further. And if this is temporary..."
"It's not."
"Let me finish." She held up a hand. "I need to say this. I'm not some girl who dates a guy for fun and moves on when things get hard. I'm thirty years old. I know what I want, and I know what I'm afraid of. I want to build something real with you. I'm afraid you'll decide someday that I don't fit into whatever you're becoming."
"Sarah..."
"You're different now than when we met. Stronger. More certain. The Church just gave you access to things most investigators never see. Ed's training you to take over when he's gone. You're becoming something important, something that matters." Her voice cracked slightly. "I need to know if there's still room for me in that picture."
I reached for her hands. Found them cold despite the gloves. Held them between my own.
"Listen to me." I waited until she met my eyes. "I love you. I loved you when we were just two people having coffee in Hartford. I loved you when you drove all night to be there when I collapsed after the Perron case. I love you now, standing in the snow, watching you try to be brave about something you shouldn't have to question."
"Paul..."
"My life is dangerous and strange. I fight things that most people don't believe exist. I've been hurt, and I'll be hurt again. I can't promise you safety, because I can't even promise myself that." I squeezed her hands. "But I can promise you this: whatever I'm becoming, I want to become it with you. If you'll have me."
[FAITH RESONANCE: +5]
[GENUINE LOVE: CONFIRMED]
She was crying now, not the tears of sadness but the release of fear she'd been carrying for months.
"That's all I needed to hear."
"Then hear this too." I pulled her closer, our foreheads touching. "I don't want to spend another day wondering if you know how I feel. I don't want you to ever doubt that you belong in my life. You're not some complication I'm managing, you're the person I want to come home to. The reason any of this matters."
"I thought..." She shook her head. "After the Perron case, when you were in the hospital, I kept thinking: what if he doesn't wake up? What if I never get to tell him..."
"I woke up. I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere."
We stood like that a while, wrapped in each other, the cold forgotten.
"We're not getting engaged tonight," she said finally, a laugh breaking through the tears. "That would be too much drama even for us."
"Agreed. But someday?"
"Someday." She kissed me, soft, warm, a promise sealed. "For now, let's just agree: no more uncertainty. We're partners. In everything."
"In everything."
We stayed outside for nearly an hour.
Found a bench near the frozen pond, brushed off the snow, sat together watching stars wheel overhead. Sarah tucked against my side, my arm around her shoulders, the kind of stillness that felt like healing.
"The Church thing today," she said eventually. "What does it mean? Really?"
"Access to archives. Authority to work cases more independently. Recognition that I know what I'm doing." I paused. "Also, apparently, responsibility for whatever's building on a global scale."
"That sounds terrifying."
"It should be. Whatever's coming, the increased activity, the coordination between entities, it's real. The Vatican sees it. Father Gordon confirmed they're preparing for something significant."
Sarah was quiet for a moment. "And you're going to be in the middle of it."
"I don't know how to be anywhere else."
"I know." She sighed, but it wasn't defeat: it was acceptance. "Just promise me something. When it gets bad, when you're facing whatever's building, you'll let me help. Not from the sidelines. Not waiting at home worrying. Actually help."
"I promise."
"And you'll tell me the truth. Even when it's scary. Even when you think you're protecting me by keeping quiet."
"I promise that too."
She nodded, satisfied. "Then I'm ready. For whatever comes."
We watched the stars a while longer. The cold finally became impossible to ignore, and we made our way back toward the house, hands intertwined, footprints side by side in the snow.
Lorraine saw us through the window. Smiled.
Ed pretended not to notice.
Judy giggled at something only she understood.
The family knew. They approved.
Every story I'm writing is its own world. This is just one of them.
The others exist too, all under one roof.
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― DECREE ―
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