36.0 #3
"It's your new shop," I said quietly.
Her eyes filled instantly.
"No," she whispered. "No way."
"Yes it is. Happy birthday, baby."
I dropped the keys into her palm.
She stared at them like they were glowing.
Then at the walls.
The floors.
The space she'd dreamed about before life derailed it.
"This is yours, Amira."
Tears spilled fast.
She threw her arms around me, burying her face in my neck.
"Brooks... thank you. Oh my god—thank you."
"You deserve it," I murmured. "All of it."
She sobbed into my chest — soft, overwhelmed, beautiful.
When she finally pulled back, I handed her the paperwork.
Her name was printed at the top.
She gasped. "Brooks—this is—this is really mine?"
"All yours," I said. "Completely."
Her hands framed my face like she didn't know where else to put all that gratitude.
Her lips crashed into mine — warm, trembling, almost disbelieving — and she kissed me like she needed me to feel all of it.
I kissed her back because her happiness hit me harder than anything I'd ever chased.
Her mouth slowed, softer now, like she just realized she was kissing me and not the future I'd handed to her.
"Brooks..." she whispered against my lips. "I— I can't believe you did this."
I rested my forehead against hers. "You deserve it."
She pulled back and finally flipped through the paperwork.
Her eyes scanned the numbers.
Stopped.
Widened.
"Brooks," she whispered, eyes jumping between the page and the ceiling and then back to me. "This building cost you... eight million dollars?"
I shrugged once. "Technically it cost you eight million. I just signed the check."
Her jaw dropped. "Brooks."
I stepped closer, brushing my thumb along her cheek, grounding her.
"You told me once you wanted a space that felt like yours," I said. "A place no one could take away from you. A place safe enough to dream in."
Her fingers tightened on the papers.
Tears welled fast.
"And this?" I added softly, gesturing at the glass doors, the high ceilings, the sunlight pooling across the floor. "This can be that for you."
She looked around again — really looked this time — her hand covering her mouth, chest rising in a shaky breath.
Then she whispered, half laughing, half crying,
"Eight million dollars?"
She lunged into me again, hugging me so tightly her heartbeat pressed against mine.
And for a moment — in the center of an empty building meant entirely for her — it felt like the world had finally, finally shifted in the right direction.
I wrapped my arms around her waist, holding her against me as the empty building echoed with nothing but us.
The drive home blurred in the best way — Amira glowing beside me, hands moving as fast as her thoughts.
By the time we pulled into the driveway, she still hadn't stopped.
"...and I could put the shampoo bowls along the back wall, like how Evelyn had hers. Maybe a seating area, not too much, just—Baby... I still can't believe this is real."
I parked.
Cut the engine.
Her excitement carried her out of the car before I even got around to her door.
the second the door swung open, her voice dropped off completely.
She stopped breathing.
"Brooks..."
Her whisper fractured on the first syllable.
Starting at her feet and stretching all the way down the foyer was a thick bed of rose petals.
Red against the marble.
Glowing in the flicker of dozens of candles lined in glass cylinders.
The air smelled like roses and warm wax.
She stepped inside as if the floor might shatter under her.
"Oh my God," she breathed. "Brooks... what is this?"
I stayed right behind her—not touching her, not rushing her.
The petals curved into a path leading toward the back of the house.
She followed them slowly, hand drifting out to touch the petals scattered along the wall, her breath trembling as she moved deeper into the glow.
Every few steps she looked over her shoulder at me—eyes shiny, confused, overwhelmed.
I just nodded once.
Keep going.
She pushed open the sliding glass door.
And the moment the nighttime air hit her, she froze again.
Outside, the backyard had been transformed.
A glowing semicircle of tall candles, flames swaying gently in the breeze.
Roses spilling like waterfalls from gold stands.
And in the center, illuminated in soft golden light.
The words hovered in the darkness like a promise.
Amira's hand flew to her chest.
Her lips parted with a broken inhale. "Brooks... oh my God."
Her entire body trembled as she walked toward it—just two steps—then stopped, overwhelmed.
She didn't even realize she was crying at first.
Her shoulders shook before her hands came up to her face.
"Baby..." she whispered, voice cracking. "This—is this—"
She turned around and there I was already on one knee.
Her gasp sliced right through the night.
She didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Just stared at me, tears streaking down her cheeks, hands trembling like she couldn't hold all the emotion at once.
I took her hand gently and held it in both of mine.
"Amira," I said softly, steadying my voice even though my chest was tight, "there has never been a day since I met you that I haven't been changed by you."
Her breath hitched.
"You walked into my life when I didn't deserve softness... and you gave it to me anyway. You gave me honesty. You gave me grace. You gave me a family."
A tear spilled over her cheek.
"You made me grow into the man I always hoped I could be. A better man. A present man. A man who is proud of the life he's building."
I squeezed her hand, grounding both of us.
"And I want to spend the rest of my life building that life with you. Not because it's expected. Not because it's convenient. But because loving you is the only thing that has ever felt like home."
Her other hand covered her mouth, sobbing softly.
I lifted her knuckles to my lips, kissed them gently.
"Amira... you are the woman I want beside me for everything. The good. The bad. The complicated. The mundane. I want forever with you. Not eventually. Not someday."
Her tears fell faster.
"But now."
I pulled out the ring box, opened it.
"Will you marry me?"
She broke.
In the best way.
A choked, breathy "Yes—yes," tore out of her as she surged forward, throwing her arms around me, nearly knocking both of us over.
I wrapped my arms around her waist, steadying her as she cried into my neck.
Her voice trembled against my skin.
"Of course I'll marry you. Of course I will, baby—yes."
I slipped the ring onto her shaking finger.
She looked at it once—briefly—then looked straight back at me, cupping my face with both hands.
And when she kissed me—
It wasn't a kiss.
It was an answer.
It was a future.
It was everything.