What the agents had called an apartment was more of a small efficiency motel room with all the basics—kitchen cupboards, stove, fridge, dishwasher, microwave—each of them mini versions of their at-home counterparts. It was cramped, but it was clean.

Virginia headed for the shower. The weight of the lengthy drive and the stress of being chased down on the highway eased away as she lingered under the warm water—and waited for Mark to come join her. When she had delayed long enough, to the point where she was worried about the building running out of hot water, she decided to give up on him. She dried off and wrapped herself in the towel before stepping out into the tiny bedroom.

Her suitcase was on the bed, open and waiting. She poked her head out to the main room but there was no sign of him. He'd come in and heard the water running and . . . left? Turning back to the suitcase, she dug through her clothes for something to wear, the frown giving away her mood. If anyone had been there to see it. She took her time getting ready, partially in an attempt to look nice—after all, it had been almost two months since she'd seen him—and partially as a test to see if he would come looking for her.

He failed. Miserably.

She found herself studying her profile in the mirror. She hadn't had time to buy much in the way of maternity wear, and the loose, mid-calf length sundress was about as far from sexy as you could get. She pushed the material tight to her midsection while turning right and left. Would he still find her attractive? Frustration got the best of her and she put all of the toiletries away, deciding to stop second guessing herself and just go look for him. He couldn't have gone far.

She headed back down to the combination-locked door and knocked.

Agent Carter opened it with a, "Ahh, Lieutenant. We were wondering what was keeping you." He waved her in. "Your brother brought food." He escorted her to one of the larger corner offices where most of his underlings had congregated around half a dozen pizza boxes. Salads, breads, and juices filled the rest of the meeting table.

She spotted Mark across the room and was shocked to see that he had changed clothes. And shaved. Had he showered? And . . . where?

He stood talking to the female agent she had met earlier. Dressed in an office appropriate business suit and sensible shoes, the young woman carried herself with an aura of professionalism. What was her name again? There were far too many of them to remember.

Mark turned his head and smiled. He said one more thing to the woman before heading over. "You look nice," he said, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek.

The fresh scent of shampoo answered one of her questions. "You do too."

She heard the inquiry in her own voice, but he didn't volunteer any insight, answering instead with a distracted glance as he reached for her hand. "Come on, you should eat something."

He walked her over to the pile of plates on the table and lifted one, offering it to her. "Pick whatever you want. You are eating for two now."

She twisted and glared up at him, about to educate him on some basic pregnancy etiquette, but he was oblivious, his eyes focused on something across the room. Feminine intuition had her stomach in knots, but she followed his gaze anyway and gasped when she saw the same agent staring back at him. Some silent communication went on between them before the woman nodded once and left.

Virginia cast her eyes down to her plate, not wanting him to know what she'd seen. Numbly, she picked up a pizza slice and added some salad, then followed him over to another table to join Paul, Bruce, and some agents, already seated.

The men talked freely about the upcoming court cases and how they were going to get Bruce and Mark in and out of the respective buildings without incident. Virginia pretended to be listening as she chewed her food, even though her taste buds refused to play along and she may as well have been eating cardboard.

She was just about finished with the tasteless meal when Mark leaned over and whispered, "I'll be right back."

Her gaze stayed on him through the glass walls as he crossed the main room and headed to the door. The door Virginia had been keeping an eye on. The door that hadn't opened since the woman had left.

She threw what remained of her pizza down on the plate.

"You feel okay?" Paul asked.

"I'm fine," she said sharply.

Paul raised his hands. "Sorry."

She lifted her chin and stared down her nose at him, wondering if he had become part of the good ol' boy network. Did he know what Mark was up to?

Watching the clock, each full rotation of the minute hand made her blood boil a little more. The pizzas were polished off, their greased-stained boxes scattered around like the morning after a frat-house party. She resisted the urge to get up and tidy.

Most of the agents left, some returning to their desks, others calling it a day. There were fewer agents working at night, but it was staffed twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

By the time thirty minutes had gone by, she was furious.

"Maybe you should go up and get some rest," Paul suggested. "You look tired."

"Thanks," she spat.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked again, only this time, there was a trickle of amusement seeping through his concern.

"Stop asking me that!" Virginia stood and threw her napkin on the table, deciding he was right. She damn well should just go to bed. And lock all the doors behind her. Maybe brace a chair up against the bedroom door handle just for good measure.

She stomped toward the exit.

When she was just steps away, a soft thumping told her the combination lock on the other side was being engaged. The door swung toward her and she backed up to the wall, out of sight of the person coming in.

It was her. The agent held onto the knob, blocking the exit as she swayed on her tiptoes and craned her neck toward the office Virginia had just vacated. The upwardly-mobile-young-professional look must have clocked out for the evening. Long, dark hair, previously twisted up and held by a large clip, now fell in a silky glide past her shoulders. Her suit jacket had been removed, making its matching skirt seem much shorter somehow, and the white tank top that had been barely visible at the junction of lapels now offered an unobstructed view of her shapely figure. She was tall, pretty, especially without the dark-rimmed glasses that had obscured those high cheek bones.

Very pretty.

Was this woman the real reason Mark had kept delaying her return? And who was she looking for? Me? Did she get some sick satisfaction out of breaking people up?

"Looking for someone?" Virginia asked, hating the bitterness she could hear in her own voice.

The woman turned with a start, and the constant gum chewing was brought to an abrupt halt. "Oh, sorry." She pivoted around the edge of the door so that she was holding it gallantly, the way a man would. "Goodnight," she all but purred.

That small act of politeness only succeeded in making Virginia feel more agitated, more dour, more . . . pregnant. "Is it?" she fired back as she rushed out without meeting the agent's gaze.

Three floors up, her heels dug into the carpet's colorful pile with each angry step as she voiced various reprimands at her own weakness. How could she let a man affect her so? She froze, thinking of the last time she had worked herself up with stupid, jealous assumptions. Had Mark really done anything wrong? Or was it her own insecurity that had her jumping to conclusions? Would this happen every time he was around another woman?

Probably, her good conscience offered.

"Oh, shut up," she muttered, resuming her pace. She needed to find Mark and straight up ask him. Making it to the door, she rammed the key into the lock and gave it a hard shove and—

The white blur floating before her eyes made her aware of her own pooling tears. She had to blink a few times to get a clear view of the candles, far too numerous to count, filling the room in front of her with soft, curling light.

"Ginny," his voice called, pulling her attention from the multitude of flickering tips to his soulful, blue gaze. He was standing over the stove, his sheer size making the thing look ridiculously small as he stirred whatever was in the pot in front of him.

"Damn it, Mark."

He laughed. "What?"

"You don't know how angry I've been with you these past two hours." She felt a tear slide down her cheek and cast it aside with an annoyed swipe.

His face grew serious as he studied her a little more closely, and before she could utter another word, he had turned off the stove and hurried over. "Are you crying?" His arms reached for her.

"No!" She pulled away from his touch, embarrassed.

"Ginny," he said firmly, stepping forward and cupping her face. "Talk to me." Frowning, he wiped away another tear. "Why are you crying?"

"I don't know . . . maybe because you seemed to be avoiding me . . . kept disappearing . . . had some secret conversation going on with Paul . . . were staring at this woman, who is pretty and skinny and"—her voiced cracked as she looked down at her protruding belly—"I'm not!" She threw her hands up in the air and backed away.

"I'm sorry. She was helping me set this all up. We had to wait forever for you to come downstairs so we could get in here without you seeing us." He moved closer. "I should have realized how it would look, but I was distracted, nervous."

Nervous?

He went down on one knee to kiss her stomach. "And as far as your doubts about how you look, you have never been more beautiful to me. I love the fact that you are carrying my baby." His hands brushed over her abdomen.

She stared down at the top of his head, realizing how paranoid she'd been, and damn it, another tear rolled down her cheek. "What is wrong with me?" she muttered.

"Only one thing," he said, tilting his head up to give her an annoying smirk.

Not the time to be making a joke, she thought, frowning down at him.

"You are not yet my wife." He raised a fist, uncurling his fingers to reveal the small box he must have pulled from his pant pocket.

Virginia stopped breathing.

"Marry me, Ginny."

Her mouth dropped open, and yet despite the joy racing through her veins, she couldn't help but wonder about the timing.

END OF CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

He asked the big question!!! 💍The bigger question is will she say yes?

The next chapter is PRIVATE. That's all I'm going to say about that.😉

Dedicated to @LaurieAngstadt for, in your own words, "enjoying the ride." Thank you for hoping on and for all the support along the way❤️

All votes ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️and comments 💬💬💬💬are appreciated!