Chapter 28 Come With Me and Escape #3
“Here’s the deal, Tristan Chase. I’m not getting any younger.
My tree-climbing years are almost behind me.
And no matter how much I’ve enjoyed the last four years of trying to get over you, I’m not getting any better at it.
And apparently you suck at it as badly as I do.
So, you can go on more dates with strangers, and we can start the whole painful cycle over again, or you can marry me.
Tie me down and keep me because it’s what I want. Not one more day apart.”
I don’t care if he says no.
I’ll ask him again in a week, a month, four years. It doesn’t matter. I’ll keep asking until he’s old and gray and has exhausted all his other options. I’ll wear him down eventually.
The expression on his face lives somewhere between incomprehension and shock. His mouth is open like he’s going to speak, but he’s at a loss for words, for once.
I step forward and wipe a stray tear off his upper lip. “You’re being oddly quiet.”
“I have a few things to say,” he says, snapping out of it.
“I thought you might.”
“First—are you crazy? We dated for like a month this summer.”
I shrug. “I’m fine with that.”
“You lived with Jayne for three years, and you never proposed to her. Or did you?”
“No. I didn’t. This is my first proposal.”
“We’ve never even lived together,” he says, like he thinks he can talk some sense into me.
“We kind of did—when Connor kicked you out.”
“How am I supposed to take you seriously right now? Is there really a ring in that box?”
I laugh, no longer quite so nervous.
“Archer—seriously.”
“Is this really that outrageous of a question?”
“I never heard a question,” he says.
Fair enough. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” he says.
“Yes, it is that outrageous of a question?”
“No. Well, yeah—it is, but no. Yes.”
“You lost me,” I admit.
He looks up at the ceiling and sighs before meeting my eyes again. “Yes. I’ll marry you.”
“Really?” Because as much as I want it, I did not expect that.
“What? You were just using the box to prove a point?”
“Why would I use an engagement ring to prove a point?”
“I don’t think there’s a ring in there,” he says with too much bravado.
“You should know me better than that by now. Give me your hand.”
He hesitates again.
“You already said yes. Give me your hand. No takebacks.”
“Is this how you pictured this moment?” he asks, even as he presents me with his trembling left hand.
I smile to myself. “Kind of.” I open the box and take out the simple, platinum ring.
“Oh shit!” he says when he sees it. He bites down on the corner of his lower lip before raising his gaze to meet mine.
“Do you want it or not?” I ask.
“Well…yeah. But you should know first that I’m not accepting this or saying yes because you got me a good ring.”
“Why are you doing it then? The painting?”
He takes a breath, letting it out in a sigh as he stares at the ring. “You finally said you love me. I’ve waited a really long time to hear that.”
“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to say it back. That was a big moment for me.”
“You didn’t really give me a chance to. Of course I love you. I’ve been in love with you my entire life.” He makes a little noise of impatience. “Are you gonna put it on my finger or what?”
I laugh, looking at his outstretched hand. “You’re shaking.”
“I know.”
“Are you nervous?”
“Of course not. You?” he asks.
“I’m good.” I slide the ring onto his finger and kiss his cheek while he studies his hand. He moves it this way and that, watching the way it catches the noon light.
“Do you like it?”
With the same hand, he touches my cheek, stroking it with his fingertips. He gives me a soft kiss. “I’m gonna make you crazy.”
“I want you to.”
“But there’s never gonna be anyone else who loves you more than I do.”
My throat feels thick, and then my hands do start to shake. “I know,” I whisper.
He kisses me again, this time wrapping his arms around me and pulling me in tight. “How did I get you?” he asks, and I can taste a tear on his lips.
“White boxer briefs and a pair of scissors,” I say.
He laughs, his forehead pressing into mine, his hands clutching the back of my neck. Our lips touch, and my heart—oh man…my heart…
“Why aren’t you kissing me?” he whispers while every feeling I’ve ever had for him—good and bad—goes off like fireworks in my mind.
“Because kissing you isn’t the only thing… So much of it is just you. I missed you all the time.”
The sharp rise and fall of his chest gets me. I would call it a sob, but it isn’t. It’s something more like relief. More like a release. I kiss the corner of his mouth and the tip of his nose.
Then the other corner of his mouth.
His fingertips press into my spine between my shoulder blades.
“I’m gonna do it if you won’t,” he says.
“I’ll do it. Just give me a second.”
He kisses my cheek and the space between my eyes. He runs his hands through my hair. Both hands at the same time. No one else has ever had a prayer with me.
I could pull away to look at him, but there is no inch between us I’m willing to sacrifice.
My hands tremble as they drive through his perfectly styled golden hair to hold his head in my hands.
When his lips part in a sigh, I catch them with my own, drawing him closer to me with every breath and movement of my mouth.
He is water. He’s everything I need.
He moves to take a deeper breath, and his pale eyes lock on mine—taking me over again. The effect they have on me is nothing less than it was four years ago.
I am nothing less than his. It’s who I’ve always been.
We kiss deeply and adoringly as a silent understanding fills the small space between us. A new promise.
Not one more day apart.