19. June #2
And I kiss him because there’s nothing else I can do. It’s a little frantic and desperate, but I pour everything I can’t say into it. All the happiness my guilty brain won’t let me process out loud because there’s so much else happening.
I think this time it’s important that you put yourself first.
I laugh. Right there, against his lips. I can feel him smiling back at me. The kisses become less coherent, and soon, we pull away just enough to see the other grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“You could stay here,” I find myself offering. “If you’d like. I know you have the boat and everything, but…”
“It is slightly more convenient to live on land, I will admit,” Ashton pulls a hand through his hair. “Although I wasn’t lying when I said I was thinking of buying here.”
The rational part of my brain—that sounds suspiciously like Meredith—tugs me into action. “You don’t think it’s a bit soon to be moving in together?”
He simply shrugs. “It would happen eventually, wouldn’t it? Besides, it’s not like you’d need to get rid of this place if I bought something else.”
“As long as it’s not the lighthouse on Tom Nevers, I don’t care where you live.”
Ashton quirks his eyebrow, a small smile slowly stretching across his lips.
I stare at him for a moment before it clicks. “No.”
His brows raise even more. “Why not?”
“Because that’s ridiculous, Ashton!”
“I like it!”
“So do I! That’s why I’ve been saving up for years.”
Ashton rolls his eyes. “So you don’t want me to buy it because you want to buy it.”
I balk at him. “Why are you saying that sarcastically?”
“Because isn’t it the same thing at this point?”
I stare at this crazy, crazy man and wonder if it was a mistake to ever let him into my life to begin with. “We’ve only been dating a month.”
“Six weeks.”
“You’re not making the point I think you’re trying to make.”
“June…” Ashton sighs, shoulders dropping as he sinks back into the couch, clearly mulling over his next words. “Look, I don’t want to rush you into anything, okay? I know things are crazy—with your family, with the Shack—and I think it’s smart to give yourself time to deal with that.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Why does it sound like you’re about to say ‘but’?”
“I’m not,” he counters with a firmness I wasn’t expecting. “All I wanted to say was that we’ll go at whatever pace makes you comfortable.”
And what pace would you be comfortable with?
The question lies on the tip of my tongue, but I find myself too cowardly to ask. Instead, I say, “Okay.”
He nods, accepting this easily, and pulls me back into his arms. The understanding that this closeness isn’t about to fade helps me relax into him gratefully. The exhaustion from the day seeps deep into my bones, almost making me ask him to carry me to bed.
But he breaks the silence first. “There’s an easy fix for the Shack problem, you know,” he mumbles into the back of my head.
“Oh yeah? What’s that? Buy it and turn it into a luxury spa?”
“Close,” he says, smirking. “Let me invest.”
The words hit me like a slap.
I straighten up fast, heart hammering. “Ashton—no. No way. Absolutely not.”
“Why not?” He shrugs like it’s nothing. “It’s a smart investment. A historic property, prime location. I’ve read through your investor pack, June. I’m practically an idiot for not buying it.”
“Because our relationship is more important than money! Because if we ever…” I can’t even say the words without feeling sick, “It would be a disaster. It would ruin everything. It’s one thing if you’re living here in your own place, but I can’t get my family involved with that, Ashton. I’m sorry, but no.”
His grin deepens. “Okay, fine. You don’t want me investing as your boyfriend.” He leans in closer, close enough that I can feel the heat of his breath against my lips. “Then marry me,” he says, smooth as a dare. “Problem solved.”
I blink at him.
I actually blink at him like I’ve forgotten how to do literally anything else.
And then I burst out laughing, half-hysterically. “Ashton, you are insane.”
“Maybe,” he agrees easily.
I push at his shoulder, but he catches my hand and interlocks our fingers. I look at them, wondering if I might have accidentally dozed off at some point—but his touch feels too real to be a dream.
“What did you just say about doing things at my pace?”
He has the decency to look a little sheepish. “Oops?”
“Don’t say things like that,” I admonish as I pull away from him. “It’s not nice.”
I barely get a chance to pull back an arm’s length before he moves closer.
“I’m being serious, June. You want Nantucket?
You want the Shack? Then let’s build it together.
We’ll hire someone to run the Shack so you can still run the gallery.
We’ll wake up every morning to the sunrise over the water, and I’ll gradually convince you to let me buy the lighthouse.
You could paint, run your businesses, boss me around”—he grins— “and I’ll make sure you have everything you need. Here. Home.”
It’s such a pretty picture. And it’s everything I always wanted.
But the problem with perfect things is that if they sound too good to be true, it usually means they are. And yet…
He squeezes my hand, and it feels like an anchor and a lifeline all at once.
“You don’t have to marry me,” Ashton says more gently. “I’ll help you either way. Because I love you. Because I believe in you. But if marrying me makes it easier for you to say yes, just say the word.”
The room tilts around me.
This time. Please.
“Marry me, June,” he says again, softer this time.
And this time, there’s no laughter left in me.
For the first time in my life, I have no idea what to say.