Chapter Thirty-Eight
Ashen
Months later
The bell above the bookstore door chimed. I held Sara’s hand, guiding her through the aisles. I’d like to claim I was calm, cool, and collected but I was a bundle of nerves.
I could afford to take her anywhere to propose. Hell, if I’d asked Bellerwood nicely enough, we could be looking down at Earth below, pondering how much our lives had changed, while robots served us champagne.
But I’d chosen where we’d met because this was where everything had changed for me. I hadn’t considered that this also was where she’d lied to me. I was past that.
Was she?
I hoped so, because I wanted this to be a perfect memory for her.
She arched a brow. “You’re nervous.”
“No,” I hedged, because I wanted her to be surprised. My heart hammered wildly.
She smiled up at me. “You’re a horrible liar.”
I swallowed hard and held back what I would have meant as a compliment: “You’re not.” Instead, I shifted and sucked in a breath. “We haven’t been here in a while and I thought it might be nice to revisit . . .”
Fuck, I should have taken her to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Or gathered everyone we knew and loved so they could celebrate this moment with us.
There’s still time.
I don’t have to ask her today.
She snuggled to my side. “I’m glad you brought me here.”
“You are?”
“Yes. I have something I wanted to surprise you with and I knew this would be the perfect place to do it.”
Wait, is she about to ask me to marry her?
If so—YES.
But then what? Do I just whip out her diamond ring and say, “Ditto?”
“I like surprises,” I answered thickly.
“You’ll love this one.”
Well, I did choose a strong, independent woman. If she wants to ask first, I’m okay with it as long as we end up together.
An image of her carrying me over the threshold of our home brought a smile to my face. As easygoing as I am, I won’t let things go that far.
She tugged at my hand for me to follow and I did. We wound through rows of books until we came to the romance section. Then, she slipped her hand from mine, and reached for a paperback on the shelf.
“Recognize this?” she asked, turning it so I could see.
An UnFairytale by Helen Bart. “You got it into a bookstore!” Her pen name. The cover-story-turned-dream that we’d plotted together. I hugged her close and murmured, “I’m so damn proud of you.”
She held the book up, and flipped it open to the dedication page then handed it to me. Her smile widened as her eyes filled with tears. “Read the dedication.”
In simple black type: To Ashen Ryse, from Helen Bart, his biggest fan.
The words blurred as my throat closed. She was watching me, her eyes bright, her gift laid bare.
“I am,” she whispered. “I’m your biggest fan.”
For a long moment I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Then I laughed softly, hoarse and awed. “Then you should definitely marry me.”
I stepped back, placed the book on the table beside us and dropped to one knee.
With what I hoped was romantic flair, I pulled the ring box from my pocket and flipped it open.
Her hand flew to her mouth as I held it up.
My voice was steady now, every word carrying the weight of truth.
“Helen Bart may have written that dedication, but it’s Sara Linde I want beside me for the rest of my life.
That’s the next story we’ll write, the one about us and how you bring out the best in me. ”
“You do the same for me,” she said with a sniff.
“Marry me, Sara. Let’s do this.”
Her laugh broke into a sob, her tears spilling as she nodded. “Yes.”
Maybe the bookstore crowd stared, maybe they didn’t.
I couldn’t see anything past the beauty of her face and the promise she’d just made.
Our future together wouldn’t be easy, especially since we’d chosen to be part of the process of reunifying separated twins, but I didn’t fear it because I was finally me.
The first draft of both of our stories had been rough and full of errors, but we’d stuck the rewrite out. Somehow, out of the secrets and the lies, love had sprung, and I wasn’t about to let anyone mess with my happily ever after.
The End