Chapter 40 #2
Before I can respond, three or four patrons—clearly regulars—perk up in unison, the kind of synchronized curiosity that only comes from weeks of silent eavesdropping.
The first one, a tall, wiry man in a neon green trucker hat with “Ask Me About My Ex-Wives” written across it, leans forward with a shocked expression. “You’re Sable? The Sable?”
Next to him, a woman in a biker vest covered in glittery patches and exactly three feathers braided into her gray hair squints dramatically. “Hot damn, I thought he made you up. Like that guy from Fight Club but with tits.”
“Girl, we’ve had a pool going on what you looked like. Thought you might have been some AI bullshit.” A third guy, all of five-foot-five with a mustache that deserves its own introduction, elbows the first man. “Told ya she was real.”
“She’s real!” someone in the back yells. “And fine as hell! Pay up, Denny!”
Then ZZ Top Beard himself slaps the bar, proudly sporting a “WWHD—What Would Hex Do?” tee that looks homemade and hasn’t been within spitting distance of a washing machine since 2019. “Queen of Ruin's End right here!”
I nearly double over laughing. It’s too much.
Too chaotic. Too perfect. I snort, and everyone hears it, and somehow that only makes the applause grow louder.
Demi beams beside me like she orchestrated the chaos herself.
But I know the owner of this place curated this crowd into exactly what they’ve become.
With both hands, Demi hurls me into the thickening circle of regulars, who swarm me with praise and hilarious comments.
Then I feel it.
That shift in the air.
Everything hushes inside me, even with the room still buzzing. My body registers him before my eyes do.
I turn… and there he is.
Hector Xavier Alvarez.
Walking toward me. Time bends around him. Every line of his body taut and powerful. A black tee hugs his frame as if it knows it’s wrapped around something sacred.
His eyes are locked on mine. Focused. Unflinching. No hesitation. No noise. Just him.
He stops right in front of me.
Curling one strong arm around my waist, he lifts and settles me gently on the bar’s edge. His hands linger on my thighs, tracing the shape of me with quiet devotion. As if I’m something both fragile and unbreakable.
The room hushes.
The entire bar goes still, a breath caught in every throat at once, including my own.
Then he speaks.
“I’ve had a lot of versions of this place in my mind,” he says, his voice low, gravel-smooth, unshakeable in a way that makes my whole body lean toward him. “And a lot of versions of myself.”
He goes still, eyes distant, as if tracing a thread that runs back through everything he’s ever been.
“I used to stand right here and picture what this bar could be. What I could be. Different setups, different nights, different faces coming and going. Sometimes I imagined success. Sometimes I imagined walking away from it all. But none of those versions ever felt right.”
He looks up at me again, eyes locked, sure as anything.
“Because you were in none of them.”
My breath catches.
I can’t blink. Can’t move. Afraid that even the slightest movement will shatter this moment.
“You crashed into my life like a storm—well, that was mostly Demi,” he says with a small, crooked grin that pulls a soft laugh from the crowd and a “You’re fucking right” from Demi, “but you… you made everything make sense.”
He takes a breath, and I feel it echo in my own chest.
“I love you so damn much, it rewired me. You and Bash. You didn’t just give me something to look forward to. You became home. You’re the peace I never thought I deserved, and the angel that pulled me out of the dark.”
The air around us stills. My heartbeat is so loud in my ears, I can barely hear the world anymore. I mouth I love you too, not wanting to interrupt him but wanting him to also know I feel the same.
“I’ve lived a life where I’ve had to fight for everything. Every inch of ground, every breath, every fragment of peace. But loving you… loving you doesn’t feel like a fight.”
His voice drops, roughened by restraint, every syllable striving not to splinter.
“It feels like coming up for air.”
My throat burns. My vision blurs with tears, but I don’t move to wipe them away. I want to feel every second of this.
He steps one pace back, releasing my hand, but his eyes never leave mine.
Right there on the bar floor, between the peanut shells and boot scuffs and spilled whiskey I’m sure Will is pissed about—Hex drops to one knee.
From his pocket, Hex pulls out a ring. It’s worn around the edges with an antique setting whispering of other hands, other promises, none quite like this one. The band is delicate but strong, etched with the faintest vine work that catches the light if you tilt it just right.
It’s subtle, elegant, but nothing flashy. At the center sits a bold onyx diamond, deep, dark, and perfectly cut as if carved from midnight itself. It doesn’t need to sparkle to be seen; it holds attention just by existing. A stone that says I’ve seen the fire, and I’m still here.
It’s not traditional. It’s not what anyone else would’ve chosen.
But it’s perfect for me.
And somehow… Hex knew that. Knew exactly what I would want, even though I’d stopped letting myself picture a ring a long time ago.
My hands grip the edge of the bar. White-knuckled.
I look down at him, chest tight, heartbeat crashing against my ribs, ready to surrender itself to him completely.
I never thought I’d get this moment. Not at thirty-nine.
Not with everything that came before. Not after the wreckage of a decade-long relationship that blessed me with my child.
The heartbreak. The fight it took to get here.
But here he is.
Hex.
He looks at me the way believers look at light breaking through stained glass. I’m his proof that hope wasn’t wasted.
“Legs,” he says, voice rough but clear. “You are mine. You are my Angel.”
Then softer, I hear the question I thought would never grace my ears: “Will you marry me?”
My throat tightens.
Tears push at the back of my eyes, but I hold them there. Not because I’m trying to be strong. Because I want to see him clearly. Every line of his face. The reverence in his expression. The way his hands hold still—not shaking, not reaching—just waiting.
I slide off the bar. My knees brush the edge of his thigh as I lower myself in front of him.
I reach down and lift his chin with two fingers, feel the rough stubble graze my skin, and suddenly all I can think is—
He looks even better on one knee than he did on two.
My heart swells until it presses against everything inside me, stretching wide enough to crowd out breath… thought… everything.
I lean in close, just enough so no one else can hear but him. “Let’s fucking do this.”
He surges up as if gravity lost its hold. His hands lock around my waist, lifting me clean off the floor into a kiss that feels like coming home. Starting over. And setting fire to every plan we ever made just to build something entirely new together.
The bar erupts.
Cheering. Glasses pounding. Someone screams “HELL YES!” from the back. ZZ Top Beard howls like a banshee. Trucker Hat throws a coaster, imitating a wedding bouquet. Biker Glitter Queen pulls a flask from her bra and toasts the ceiling.
“Hey, no outside liquor, Maryann!” Will shouts, then turns to Hex and me, “About damn time!”
I smile into Hex’s mouth and can’t help but giggle with happiness.
Demi’s full-on sobbing and fanning herself with something laminated.
I don’t even know what I’m laughing at anymore.
Maybe it’s the cheering, maybe it’s the coaster in the air, maybe it’s the way Hex hasn’t let go of me, arms locked like I’m still something he’s afraid to lose.
But I can’t stop smiling. My cheeks hurt.
My heart cracks wide open, and love floods in, filling every hollow I didn’t know sat empty.
For the first time, in a long time, I’m not waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’m not thinking about the past, or the mess, or what comes next. I’m just here. In this wild, rowdy bar, with this wild, steady man, surrounded by people who love us in their own, chaotic way.
I look to my best friend Demi, who is still blotting her eyes with what I now recognize is a drink specials insert. It’s a proud moment for her as well, as she points her menu in the air victorious and announces:
“This will be the best fucking wedding I ever plan!”