Chapter 47 #2
He takes both my hands and brings one to his mouth, kissing my knuckles, just like he always does.
“I gotta tell you something,” he says quietly.
My brows pull together. “Okay…”
His eyes shine, tears brimming. He blinks fast, sucking in a sharp breath. Clears his throat. Swallows hard.
Then he looks directly at me. “I love you,” he says. “And I think…” His voice wavers. “I think you’re the first person I ever loved who actually loved me back.”
My heart cracks wide open.
He closes his eyes, brushing at the corner to catch a tear before it falls. When he opens them again, they’re red. Wet. Raw.
“Jordan, I’ve loved you since before I even understood what that word meant. You taught me what it was.”
I don’t even try to stop the tears. They come fast and hot, spilling down my cheeks.
“You’ve always been my endgame. Since first fucking grade. It’s always been you.” He lets out a breath that sounds half laugh, half sob. “It’s never not been you.”
Then he reaches into his pocket and drops to one knee.
A cry bursts out of me, and my hand flies to my mouth.
“It’s you and me, babe. It always has been.”
He pops opens a velvet box, revealing the most beautiful ring, delicate and timeless. Similar to the one I have on my finger now.
My heart beats wildly in my chest, but in the best way. Like the moment before you win something, when you realize you still might have a chance.
The corner of his mouth lifts. “Marry me. Again. For real this time. Be my wife. Be my family. Let me build a life with you. Let me give you babies. Let me make you happy.”
He swallows, eyes wrecked.
“Because all of this”—he gestures around us, at the penthouse, the city, the life—“doesn’t mean a damn thing without you beside me.”
I don’t wait for him to stand. I drop to my knees.
“Yes,” I cry.
My hands cup his face and I crush my mouth to his, pouring every ounce of what I feel into the kiss. He grips my waist tight, kissing me back just as hard.
“I love you, Matt.” I smile through tears. “I’ve always loved you back.”
He kisses me again, slower this time.
He takes the ring from the box and I hold out my trembling hand.
“Wait,” I whisper, sliding the old ring off.
I hold my hand out again. “Okay,” I say softly. “I’m ready.”
He slips the ring onto my finger, laces his fingers with mine, and tugs me closer.
“Come here, babe.”
The scent of coffee and bacon wafts through the hallway as I head to the kitchen. I take a deep inhale, the familiar smell filling my lungs.
Memories from childhood push forward. I usually keep them buried just deep enough to stay out of reach. Unattainable.
I put them there on purpose.
But today…
I let them come.
Sunday mornings. Cartoons. Dad in the kitchen. Mamá in her chair, sewing.
The smell of grease filling the room while Dad made the standard American breakfast: bacon, eggs, toast, and fruit.
Afterward my parents would sit and drink their coffee together. They’d talk. Laugh. Ask me questions about my week. I loved that time. It’s when I felt closest to them.
And it’s what hurt the most when it was ripped away.
It’s why I don’t drink coffee. Why I don’t eat meat. I told everyone it was about ethics. It wasn’t. Sure, my reasons have changed over time… but back then?
It reminded me too much of my dad.
Normally it hurts to think about him like this. Makes me feel like I’m breathing through a straw.
It doesn’t right now.
Maybe it’s because I’m still high off Matt’s proposal last night. Or because I fell asleep wrapped in his arms. But I think it’s because I finally have something stronger to hold onto. New memories. My own family.
I step into the kitchen, and a smile instantly pulls at my lips. Matt stands at the stove, back to me, shirtless, spatula in hand. He’s got two different pans of eggs cooking side by side, one in the bacon grease for him, the other in coconut oil for me.
It’s a pain in the ass, I know that. And I’d never complain if he cooked them together in the grease. I’d swallow my feelings about it.
But he doesn’t. He does it this way. For me.
Warmth spreads through my chest, soft and gooey, making me want to melt right back into his arms.
“Morning,” I say, moving toward him.
He glances over his shoulder. “Morning, babe. How’d you sleep?”
I step behind him, my hands sliding up his back over the hard muscle and ink, and press a kiss to his shoulder blade. “Good. What about you?”
He scoops the spatula under the eggs and slides them onto separate plates. He twists the burners off, turns toward me, and meets me with a kiss.
“I slept good.” His mouth kicks up at one corner. “I had my sexy wife and my fiancée in bed last night.”
A smile threatens. “Oh, yeah? One of me isn’t enough for you?”
“Nope. I’d take three of you if I could.”
His lips find mine again and I savor the warmth of them.
I lift a brow. “Three? Why three?”
“Do you really have to ask?” he murmurs against my jaw.
He chuckles and kisses me again. His hand slides over my waist, pulling me closer. “Three pairs of hands to tie. Three mouths.” His lips brush my ear as his fingers drift higher. He kneads my breast, thumb pinching my nipple through my shirt. “Six perfect tits to suck on.”
My breath hitches.
He grins against my mouth. “I’d never leave the fucking bed.”
“Matt…” I warn weakly.
He laughs, pulling back and giving my ass a light smack. “Let’s eat before this gets cold.”
We take our plates to the table and settle into our seats, Matt across from me. My gaze wanders to the ring on my finger. It’s so similar to the one he already gave me, same cut and style, only this one is slightly smaller and paired with a second band paved in diamonds.
Curiosity piqued, I lift my eyes to him. “Why’d you buy a second ring when they’re so similar?”
He lifts his coffee to his lips, eyes peering over the rim as he takes a sip. When he sets it down, his gaze locks on mine.
“I didn’t,” he says simply. “I bought that one eight years ago. Right before you broke up with me. I was planning to propose and tell you I loved you. I had the whole thing planned out.”
Something sharp detonates inside my chest, my heart squeezing tight, a feeling I’ve become all too familiar with when it comes to Matt.
My brows furrow as his words settle in.
Would I have said yes?
Would it have even mattered?
Would we be here now if I had?
The apology rises automatically, sitting heavy at the back of my throat, but I swallow it. There’s no point digging up something we can’t undo. We’ve moved past it. We’re not those people anymore.
Instead, I ask, “Really? How were you going to do it?”
A smile curves his lips. “I was going to charter a yacht for the night. Music, candles, dancing.” He lifts a shoulder. “Similar vibe to last night, but on the water.”
“Well that would have been romantic as hell. But nothing tops last night.” My throat burns. “It was intimate.” I hold his gaze. “It was really special, babe. I loved everything about it.”
“Thanks. I’m glad you liked it. I was worried it wasn’t big enough.”
I shake my head. “It was big in every way that it needed to be,” I say softly. “It was perfect.”
His eyes narrow, brows pulling together. “You think we’d still be together if I had asked then and you’d said yes?”
I don’t even need a full second. “No.”
“Well, shit,” he says with a small laugh. “Tell me how you really feel.”
“Not because I didn’t love you,” I say quietly. “Because I didn’t know how to love you yet.”
“What do you mean? You’ve always said you loved me.”
“I did. And I meant it.” I take a breath. “That doesn’t mean I knew what to do with it. Back then I thought loving you meant choosing between you and everything else. My family. My life. Like if I chose you, everything else would disappear. That I’d lose myself and just become Matt’s girl.”
I shake my head. “So I ran. Not toward anything better. Just away from you. I thought I was protecting you. That you were meant for bigger things and I’d slow you down.
But really I was just scared. I needed to figure all my shit out before I could choose you.
And I hate that it took this long, but… I get it now. ”
I hold up my hand. “This ring means more to me now than it ever would have then. Because I know the next time life gets hard, the only place I’m running is to you.”
He doesn’t answer right away. Just watches me.
He clears his throat, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “I think,” he says, standing, “I like the sound of that.”
He pulls me up and cups my face in his hands. “I love you.”
His thumb drags gently along my jaw before he tips my chin up and kisses me—slow. Sure.
Like he knows he has a lifetime to kiss me this way.