Epilogue
Steeler
Five months later
I think it’s been long enough. I wanted to make Marlowe my wife and I was tired of waiting. She moved in about a month ago and it’s been amazing. Blissful. Passionate. Incredible.
So why wait to make her my wife? I wanted to lock her down and make her mine legally, forever and always.
Man, I sounded insane but the feelings inside me were too intense to ignore. I needed to get them out, so they no longer festered inside my brain.
“Should I propose and let her decide if she wants to elope or plan a wedding? Or maybe I should just take her to Vegas and then whisk her away on a honeymoon.” I complained to Lyric about the same thing for the millionth time today. He was probably sick of my shit.
“Just put a ring on it like I did with Phoenix. And stop stressing. Once the ring is on, you have plenty of time to figure out what you want to do.”
“The ring isn’t enough for me, man. I want to make her my wife. Like now.”
Lyric chuckled, a slightly worried look etched across his face. “You sound a tad possessive my friend. Maybe dial it back a bit.”
I laughed. “I know, fuck. This girl makes me crazy.”
“She’s always made you crazy. You should be used to it by now.”
I shot my friend a dirty look. “Aren’t you supposed to be helping?”
“I am helping. I’m helping you come to your senses.”
“I don’t think it’s working well. Because right now, I want to steal Marlowe from the bakery and take her to Vegas where we get married immediately.”
“Dude. You’ve got it bad. Worse than I thought.” Lyric shook his head. He found the whole thing amusing.
“I know you feel the same way about your woman, so stop judging. We listen and we don’t judge, right? Isn’t that some bullshit line going around social media? I mean, everyone judges honestly.”
Lyric watched me with amusement. “Not judging. I’ve seen this go down since the beginning. I just think it’s funny. If you want to elope, then do it. I support you, one hundred percent.”
“Thanks, man.” I clapped him on the back before saying goodbye. On my way home, I stopped in at the jewelry store and browsed some rings. It was happening.
I couldn’t take her to elope, it wouldn’t be fair to our families and friends. But a ring on her finger would help get the process going.
It took me a couple of weeks to find the perfect ring, but I secured it, all without Mar suspecting a thing.
Then I had her bake her favorite cake, chocolate with chocolate icing, and told her it was for the guys at work.
But instead, I cut a chunk of the cake out from the middle, a square shape the size of the ring box which I tucked safely inside the cake.
I covered the top with the piece I cut out, managing to cover it all up as best I could.
I planned the perfect dinner and for dessert, I brought the cake out, the confused expression on her face priceless.
But as she took out the box inside, I dropped down to one knee.
“Marlowe, I love you more than myself, more than life itself and I never want to spend another second apart from you. Will you please marry me?
As tears poured down her cheeks, I slipped the ring on her finger and took her into my arms, kissing her over and over.
She was finally mine. All mine.
Forever.
THE END