Harmony woke to gentle fingers tracing patterns on her arm. Opening her eyes, she found Jeremy propped up on one elbow, watching her with an intensity that made her breath catch.
"You're staring," she whispered, voice still rough with sleep.
"Can't help it." His fingers continued their path up her arm. "You look perfect in my shirt."
Harmony shifted closer, but her movement stuttered when she glimpsed his packed suitcase by the door. Jeremy noticed - of course he did - and his hand stilled on her arm.
"Hey." He tilted her chin up. "Look at me."
"I can't." She pressed her face into his chest instead. "If I look at you, I'll cry, and I promised myself I wouldn't."
"Since when do Carson women make promises they can't keep?" His attempt at lightness fell flat when his own voice cracked.
Harmony pulled back, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "What time is your flight?"
"Don't."
"Jeremy-"
"Seven hours." His thumb brushed her cheek. "Seven hours until I have to let you go."
The morning light streamed through the window, catching on the silver at his temples. Harmony reached up, running her fingers through his hair. "We should get up. Have breakfast. Be responsible adults."
Instead of answering, Jeremy caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. His lips lingered there, and she felt him smile against her skin when her breath hitched.
"Or," he murmured, "we could stay right here."
"And what would your mother say about that?" The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Jeremy's body tensed. He sat up, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. "Is that what's really bothering you?"
Harmony wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold despite wearing his shirt. "Isn't it bothering you? The moment you land in London-"
"The moment I land in London, I'm starting the paperwork for the Boston office." He swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing with restless energy. "Mother can't- she won't-" He made a frustrated sound. "Damn it, Harmony, look what you do to me. I can't even form complete sentences."
A laugh bubbled up despite everything. "The great Jeremy Crawford, speechless?"
He turned back to her, eyes softening. "Only around you." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small box. "I was going to wait, do this properly, but-"
"Jeremy." Her heart thundered. "What are you-"
"It's not- well, not yet." He sat beside her, opening the box to reveal a silver key on a delicate chain. "It's to my flat in London."
Harmony stared at it, throat tight. "I don't understand."
"Yes, you do." His fingers trembled slightly as he lifted the necklace. "Turn around?"
She did, pulling her hair aside. The key settled cool against her skin as Jeremy fastened the clasp, his fingers lingering on her neck.
"I know you can't leave your studies," he said softly. "But whenever you can visit... I want you to have a home there. With me."
Harmony turned back to face him, fingers clutching the key. "Your mother-"
"Will have to accept that I'm not her puppet." His jaw set in that way she was learning meant absolute determination. "Crawford Technologies needs an American presence. That's business. But this?" He covered her hand where it held the key. "This is about us."
A knock interrupted them - room service with breakfast. They settled by the window, Boston Harbor spread out before them. Harmony watched Jeremy methodically butter a croissant, struck by how such a simple action could feel so intimate.
"You're doing it again," he said without looking up.
"Doing what?"
"Thinking too loud." He pushed the plate toward her. "Eat something. Then tell me what's really going on in that brilliant head of yours."
Harmony picked at the croissant. "Three weeks is a long time."
"Three weeks, four days, and approximately-" he checked his watch- "thirteen hours until I'm back. Not that I'm counting."
"Jeremy." She couldn't help smiling despite the ache in her chest. "Be serious."
"I am serious." He reached across the table, taking her hand. "About you. About us. About building something real here in Boston."
"And if it doesn't work out? If your mother's right and I'm not-"
"Don't." His grip tightened. "Don't you dare finish that sentence."
"But-"
"No." He stood abruptly, pulling her up with him. "Come here."
Before she could protest, he was leading her to the full-length mirror. He positioned her in front of it, standing behind her with his hands on her shoulders.
"What do you see?" he asked.
Harmony tried to look away, but he held her steady. "Jeremy..."
"What I see," he continued, "is the woman I love. Brilliant law student. Survivor. Fighter." His hands slid down her arms. "The future Mrs. Crawford, if she'll have me."
Harmony's eyes snapped to his in the mirror. "That's not funny."
"Wasn't meant to be." He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "Not proposing. Not yet. But I want you to understand - you're it for me, Harmony Carson. Everything else is just... logistics."
She turned in his arms, pressing her face into his chest. His heartbeat thundered under her ear, betraying his own nerves despite his confident words.
"Promise me something?" she whispered.
"Anything."
"Promise me you'll remember this moment. When things get hard - when your mother fights us, when the distance feels too much - promise you'll remember how this feels."
Jeremy pulled back just enough to look at her. His eyes were suspiciously bright. "Only if you promise something too."
"What?"
He touched the key resting against her collarbone. "Promise you'll use this. Don't let fear or pride or anything else stop you from coming to me."
Instead of answering, Harmony rose on her tiptoes and kissed him. She poured everything she couldn't say into that kiss - her fears, her hopes, her absolute trust in him. When they finally parted, both breathing heavily, Jeremy rested his forehead against hers.
"I'll take that as a yes," he murmured.
A chime from his phone made them both jump. Harmony's heart clenched when she saw him check it.
"Car's downstairs," he said quietly. "Ready to take us to the airport."
She nodded, not trusting her voice. As Jeremy gathered his things, she watched his every movement, trying to memorize him - the way he double-checked his pockets, how he ran a hand through his hair when stressed, the small frown of concentration as he replied to one last email.
Finally, he turned to her. "Time to go, love."
Harmony took his offered hand, letting him pull her close one last time. "I love you," she whispered against his lips.
"I love you too." He kissed her softly. "Now come on. The sooner I leave..."
"The sooner you come back."
They walked out hand in hand, the key to his London flat cool against her skin - a promise of futures yet to come.