Chapter 42
Collins
The house was unusually quiet when I walked in. Zelda moved quietly in the kitchen, humming softly as she prepared something.
“Hi, Zelda,” I called. “Where’s my wife?”
“Wife?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “What did I miss?”
“To be…” I added, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Ohhh,” she said with a knowing smile. “Are you proposing, Doctor?”
“Yes,” I whispered, glancing around. “Where is she?”
“She’s in the bath,” Zelda said.
“Who helped her?” I asked, though the answer was obvious.
“I did,” she replied, shrugging.
I set my bag down and headed upstairs, heart beating faster than usual. At her door, I knocked lightly. “It’s me.”
“Come in,” she called.
The door opened, and there she was, sunk into the warm bubbles of the bath, steam curling around her like a soft veil.
I bent down, brushing a strand of wet hair from her face. “Hey,” I whispered.
“Hey,” she said, wrapping her arms around me in a tight hug.
“I thought you’d wait for me to…” I began.
“I wanted to be ready when you came home,” she said, her voice soft, “but… time slipped away because I was enjoying this. Come join me. The bath is big enough.”
I shook my head, half-smiling. “It’s fine. I’ll just go take a shower.”
Before I could even step away, she reached out and tugged me toward her.
I stumbled forward, half in the bath, and the warm water splashed over me. She laughed—a soft, melodious sound that made my chest tighten. She gripped my shoulders to steady me. “See? You’re already in,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
My shirt clung to my skin, heavy with water. For a moment I didn’t move, aware of her watching me. Then, deliberately, I reached for the first button.
One by one, I loosened them slowly, my fingers steady even as my pulse wasn’t. The quiet clicks sounded louder than they should have in the steam-filled room. I kept my gaze lowered, focusing on the simple task—anything to keep my thoughts from wandering where they shouldn’t.
The fabric fell open, and I slipped the soaked shirt from my shoulders, setting it aside. I unbuckled my belt next, pushing my wet pants down with careful restraint, every movement measured, controlled.
“Are you not going to remove that?” she teased, pointing at my briefs with a playful smile.
I smiled back but climbed in behind her anyway, settling carefully, holding her as she leaned comfortably against me. “You’re trouble,” I whispered near her ear.
The bath cradled us both, warm and intimate.
I pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. “Are you okay?”
“Better now that you’re here,” she said, turning her head to meet mine. Her lips brushed against mine, soft and tender, deepening into a kiss that left my chest tight.
“I love you,” she murmured.
My hand moved to her hair, smoothing it back just to give myself something to focus on.
My voice came out rougher than I intended.
“You have no idea what you do to me.”
I held her a little tighter, not trusting myself to say more.
A quiet pause. Then she looked up at me with eyes that could melt steel. “Make love to me,” she whispered.
Everything inside me stopped.
I swallowed hard, staring at her. My heart wanted to leap, but my mind hesitated. For a second, I couldn’t breathe. Heat rushed through me, instinct sharp and immediate, but my thoughts collided all at once — promises, fear, responsibility, the fragile trust resting in my hands.
I swallowed hard, staring at her like the answer might hurt us both.
My heart surged forward.
My conscience held me back.
“I can’t,” I said softly.
“Is it… because I’m…” she started.
“No… it’s not that,” I said quickly, shaking my head.
“I want you. Not perfect, not whole—just you. You’re enough.
” I kissed her forehead, inhaling the warm, comforting scent of her hair.
“Just…not yet,” I said, voice thick with emotion.
“I want us to move at a pace that protects you. Not because you’re fragile, but because what we have deserves care. ”
“This deserves more than a moment; we might rush because we’re afraid to wait.”
My thumb traced slowly along her jaw.
“I don’t want our first time to belong to recovery rooms and uncertainty. I want it to belong to us, when you’re strong enough to choose it without pain, without doubt.”
She smiled against me, eyes closed. “Then I’ll wait.”
For a long moment, we just stayed there, wrapped in each other, the bath and steam around us, letting the quiet of the house and the rhythm of our hearts speak louder than words ever could.
As soon as we finished, I carefully drained the bath and wrapped her in a soft, fluffy towel, holding her close as I carried her to the bed. She let out a soft laugh when I peppered her with quick, playful kisses, her damp hair tickling my cheek.
“Hey, hey… slow down, Doctor,” she teased, her eyes sparkling.
I smiled, ignoring her protest as I dried her gently, helping her slip into a beautiful pink spaghetti-strap dress. Every movement felt sacred, as if I wanted to imprint this moment in memory forever.
Once she was dressed, I rolled her to her dresser, sitting behind her while she perched in her wheelchair. She picked up her makeup brush, humming softly as she dabbed blush onto her cheeks. I ran the hair dryer over her silky hair.
“There,” I said finally, lowering the dryer and watching her through the mirror. “All done.”
She turned, tilting her head in a small, satisfied smile, but before I could respond, she caught my eyes and leaned forward.
“You’re beautiful,” I whispered, bending to place a gentle kiss on her shoulder.
But she didn’t stay still. Her arms found my neck, and her lips pressed against mine, soft and insistent. I froze for a moment, letting the warmth of her kiss seep into me. When I responded, it was slow, tender—long enough to convey everything I felt without a single word.
Pulling back slightly, I rested my forehead against hers. “You keep taking my breath away,” I murmured.
She laughed softly. “Then maybe you should kiss me more often,” she teased, resting her hand lightly on my chest.
I chuckled, pressing one more soft kiss to her temple, then letting my hands gently cradle her face. “I could spend forever like this, just…us. No hurry, no distractions. Just you and me.”
She leaned into me, eyes closed, and whispered, “I like that.”
And in that quiet moment, with the faint hum of the hair dryer cooling and the soft scent of her lingering on my skin, I realized I didn’t need anything else. I had her—and that was everything.
The drive was slow, almost painfully so, as if the car itself could feel the weight of my thoughts. My hands gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly, knuckles white, while my mind spun in a dozen directions at once.
Is it too soon? The question wouldn’t leave me. I’d never imagined proposing would feel like this—like standing on the edge of a cliff, heart hammering, stomach twisting, knowing one wrong move could send everything tumbling.
Am I rushing her? I hated the idea of forcing a moment, of turning something beautiful into something pressured. What if I misread her? What if she needed more time than I thought?
The city lights blurred past, reflections of my own swirling thoughts on the windshield.
Will she say yes? I forced myself to picture her smile, the spark in her eyes when she looked at me, that laugh that could melt the tension from my chest. The thought of losing the chance to see that light every day tightened my chest and made my heart ache.
But beneath the nerves, beneath the fear, there was a certainty I couldn’t ignore. A truth that anchored me, steady and unshakable.
I want to spend the rest of my life with her.
Every laugh, every tear, every quiet morning and restless night—I wanted them all. And if there was a chance, a small, trembling chance, that she would say yes, I had to take it. Even if it terrified me.
The car crested the last hill before the rooftop bar, and the city opened up beneath us, stretched wide and glowing, lights scattered like tiny constellations across the dark.
I took a slow breath, trying to calm my heart, trying to turn nerves into courage.
Tonight wasn’t just another night. Tonight would change everything.
I parked and got out, walking around to the boot to take out the wheelchair.
Her eyes lifted, curious—then widened. “Wait… is this…?” she started.
“Yes,” I said softly. “The rooftop bar. Where we first locked eyes.”
I helped her from the car, careful and slow, settling her gently into the chair. She smiled up at me, unaware of the storm in my chest. The elevator carried us upward, and when the doors opened, the night rushed in—cool air, soft lights, distant music.
The city shimmered below us, and beyond it, the mountains were only faint shadows against the night sky. A cool breeze brushed over us.
At first, everything looked normal. Small tables glowed with candlelight.
A jazz band played quietly in the corner, their music smooth and easy.
I’d reserved the last table at the edge of the rooftop—the one with the best view.
I rolled her to our spot and took my seat across from her, pretending to be calm while my heart thudded like it was trying to escape my chest.
Anna took it all in, her eyes widening slightly.
“This is where it all started,” I whispered, my hands finding hers across the table. “The first night I saw you. I knew from that moment, I wanted to know you. But when I saw you were the bride, I couldn’t act on it. I had to let it go.”
I could see her fingers trembling just slightly against mine. “Who would’ve thought you felt that way,” she said, almost incredulously.
I nodded, my gaze locked on hers. “I couldn’t stop looking at you. Your laugh, the way you moved, your smile—I was captivated. And yet, I had to respect that you belonged to someone else.”
A faint blush warmed her cheeks, and she swallowed, eyes glimmering with emotions she couldn’t hide.
“I felt guilty that night….for feeling the same way. I was engaged. I couldn’t let myself…
feel what I felt. But I never stopped noticing you, even when I tried to push it down.
I tried to be fair…to myself, to Michael. But I couldn’t.”
Her words sent a shiver down my spine. My fingers tightened around hers. “I thought I’d been hiding it all alone.”
Her laugh was soft, trembling with emotion. “We were both hiding it,” she said. “And now…we’re here.”
I leaned closer, my voice dropping to a whisper, intimate and full of feeling. “I should have known. Fate doesn’t just let someone like you slip away twice. I couldn’t let you go this time.”
Her chest lifted, eyes bright and the warmth between us was almost overwhelming.
“This is going to sound…embarrassing,” I admitted, feeling heat rise to my cheeks.
“Embarrassing? Oh, now you have to tell me,” she teased, leaning slightly forward.
“I…I dreamt of you after that night.”
Her eyes widened, surprise lighting up her features. “You did? Really? Tell me…what about?”
I smirked, shaking my head. “I’m not going to tell you.”
Her lips curved, mischievous. “No. You can’t just tease me like that. You have to tell me.”
I sighed, pretending to think it over. “Okay…fine. Do you see that stool over there?”
She followed my gaze. “Yes…that’s where you were sitting when we first met.”
I leaned in a little, lowering my voice. “You came to sit on my lap…and we started kissing.”
Her eyes sparkled, and she pressed, “Ooh…continue.”
I exhaled slowly, my control slipping a fraction. “Then you told me to leave with you.” I paused, a faint smile pulling at my lips.
And…I should probably stop now. Just talking about it is…doing something to me.”
“No, you have to continue,” she insisted, voice playful but daring.
I glanced at her, hesitation fighting desire. “Well…I woke up right when I suggested my penthouse.”
“That’s it?” she asked, clearly disappointed, leaning back in the chair.
I cocked an eyebrow. “Why do you sound disappointed?”
“I was hoping… for a juicier part.”
I laughed softly, shaking my head. “We have to stop this conversation, or I won’t be able to stand up from this chair without making a complete fool of myself.”
She smirked, that infuriating, perfect little smile that made me want to kiss her right there. My hands itched to reach out. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Not yet.
Dinner passed in a blur—her laugh a melody I couldn’t stop noticing, her glances piercing me like sparks. I nodded when she spoke, laughed when she laughed, but all the while, part of me was counting the minutes, waiting for the perfect moment.
When the plates were cleared, I rose, forcing a casual tone. “I’ll be right back. Just need to speak to someone.”
She nodded, smiling, eyes glinting with curiosity. I gave the staff our discreet signal and walked away, heart hammering, knowing this night was far from over.
The sky was fully dark now. The mountains were barely more than silhouettes.
Then, softly, something changed.
A quiet click sounded, and lights on the far side of the rooftop flickered on. Tiny fairy lights—hundreds of them—began to glow, outlining the distant mountains in shimmering gold. One by one, more lights appeared, slowly forming words across the dark:
Anna,
You are my today,
My tomorrow,
My always.
Then the final line appeared, brighter than the rest:
Will you be my forever?
The music shifted, swelling into something warm and emotional.
I walked back to her, my legs unsteady, my heart in my throat. I stopped in front of her and lowered myself carefully onto one knee, pulling the small box from my pocket and opening it.
“Anna,” I said, my voice barely steady, “you changed my life. Loving you has been the easiest, truest thing I’ve ever done. I don’t want a future that doesn’t have you in it. Will you marry me?”
Her eyes filled instantly. One hand flew to her mouth, and for a moment she just stared at me, tears shining under the lights. Then she nodded, laughing and crying at the same time.
“Yes,” she said softly. “Of course I’ll marry you.”
I stood and leaned in, kissing her gently as applause rose around us. People cheered, clapped, some even wiped their eyes. But all I could see was her—smiling through tears, my forever, right there in front of me.