31. Winter
WINTER
I glance up at Tristan, my chest warm, and slide my hand free so I can gesture toward the water. “I hope one day we can bring our babies here to see this place.”
I feel him gasp before I hear it, the sudden stutter of his chest beneath my shoulder. It makes me smile because it’s not a scary thought for me. It’s what I want more than anything.
“You said we’re going to have lots of babies,” I remind him, my voice light, teasing, but wanting him to know I’m serious. “And I think they would love growing up coming here for special occasions.”
His throat works, and I see him swallow hard, his eyes flicking from the pond back to me. I press on, braver now. “We could foster too. I think that would be a dream.”
I turn back toward the water, already picturing it, already painting a future here. But before I can say more, he tugs me back, his mouth dropping to mine in a kiss that steals my breath.
“You are my dream, Winter.”
He says my name. Not dushen’ka. Not any of his soft, secret words for me. Winter. It knocks the air right out of me because instantly I know something really is up with him today.
Before I can even react, he’s reaching into the front pocket of his hoodie. My stomach flips when I see the little gray box he pulls free, a pale pink bow tied around it with Madi’s handiwork written all over it.
I swear time slows down and everything blurs.
Right here, at my favorite place in the world, with my favorite person in the world, Tristan drops to one knee and takes my hand in his like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like he’s practiced this very thing a million times.
He flips the lid of the cute little box open, and there it is. An elegant vintage diamond ring nestled against the velvet, catching the autumn light. My breath stutters, tears sting my eyes before I can stop them.
“I need you to marry me, Winter LeBlanc,” he says, his voice low but so sure, eyes locked on mine with that same dark, unshakable devotion that’s always been there. Somehow it feels bigger now. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
“Yes, yes, oh my gosh, yes.” The words tumble out of me before I can even think, breaking on a laugh that turns into a sob as I throw my arms around his neck. My chest aches with it, tears spilling, but they’re all good, all happy.
Tristan’s arms lock around me as he rises to his feet, lifting me with him, holding me tight against his body like he’ll never let me go. He buries his face in my hair for a second, breathing me in, then pulls me back just enough to tip my chin up with his free hand.
“You really are my soul, you know that?” His voice is low, reverent, and then his mouth is brushing soft kisses over my wet cheeks, pressing against my eyelids, catching every tear like they were meant for him to wipe away.
“I have one more surprise for you,” he murmurs, and the way his eyes flicker dark with mischief makes my stomach twist with anticipation. What else could he possibly have that would outdo a proposal?
“But first,” his lips curve, and his thumb strokes over my hand as he lifts it, “I want to see my ring on your pretty finger.”
He slides the ring home, the cool metal glinting in the light as it settles where it belongs. My breath catches. It’s perfect. More than perfect. My hand trembles as I look at it and then look up at him, my tears spilling all over again.
Tristan tucks the empty box back into his hoodie pocket, but his gaze never leaves me.
He truly acts like I’m the only thing he sees.
I hold my hand up, the diamond catching the light.
It’s hued just the faintest pink, subtle but so sparkly it takes my breath away.
Of course I would’ve loved anything Tristan chose for me.
He could’ve tied a string around my finger and I would’ve worn it until it frayed, but this?
This feels like me. Like us. It’s everything I could have ever asked for, and more.
When I finally drag my eyes away from the ring, I notice him pulling something else from his hoodie pocket. A folded piece of paper. I cock my head, waiting, my heart already beating fast from the way he’s looking at me.
He opens it, smooths it flat, and shows me. “I put a lot of faith in you saying yes,” he says, his mouth tugging into the smallest, nervous smile. “Because I filed for a name change a while back. It got approved a few days ago.”
My eyes scan the words, and my stomach flips. Tristan LeBlanc.
I look back up at him, stunned, my throat thick, eyes blurring. “Tristan…?”
He nods, firm. “I want to take your last name for a couple reasons, but I couldn’t tell you until now, obviously.”
I’m torn between awe and confusion because the thought never even occurred to me. All this time I assumed if we got married, I’d be the one taking his name. But he’s standing here, so sure, telling me that he wants mine. Us. Me.
His hands frame my face, and I really need his touch right now.
“I could never ask you to take the last name of someone who hurt you so much,” he says against my lips, his voice rougher than usual like he’s thinking about something wholly unpleasant.
My heart aches because I know exactly who he means.
Mr. Vale.
There’s a flicker of tension across his face, his jaw tight as he adds, “I don’t want that name either. This way you get to keep your mother’s maiden name, and I get to have the same last name as you. And that’s all I really care about, baby.”
The way he says it, so certain, so incredibly steady, splinters something open inside me.
He pulls his hood up over his head and then turns, and my breath catches. Where it used to read Vale in block letters, stitched bold across the back, it now reads LeBlanc. Underneath, the number 55.
My hand flies to my mouth, and I can’t stop smiling.
My cheeks hurt from it, my eyes still wet, but I don’t care.
I lunge at him and keep kissing him, his jaw, his lips, anywhere I can reach.
I only pause my assault of kisses when something pops into my head.
I pull back just to stare at the ring again, the soft pink diamond catching the light like it was made for me.
“When did you buy this?” I whisper, brushing my fingers over the stone. “We’re always together… I had no clue you even went shopping recently.”
“A few years ago, as soon as Sebastian and I sold our game,” he says. “It was my first purchase with my own money.”
I gasp his name and then ask, “That long ago?”
His eyes soften, but there’s something fierce behind it too. “I always knew I loved you,” he says quietly. “I wanted to marry you, Winter. I just didn’t think I deserved that honor.”
My heart twists, the weight of his words making my chest feel full to the point of breaking. “I can’t wait to marry you,” I breathe. “I’d marry you right now if I could.”
I press my forehead to his, and his eyes light up. “Don’t tempt me, I’ll take you to the courthouse right now,” he whispers, and I know he’s serious.