Epilogue Euan
Two Years Later
The ring is simple: a tungsten band with a blue center, the same color as Alex’s eyes. The surface is smooth all the way around so nothing will catch on clothing. I measured his finger three times while he was asleep, just to make sure I got the right size.
The door opens and I slam the velvet box shut, slipping it into my pocket before Alex can see.
“Honey, I’m home!” he calls. It started as a joke, something we both said whenever we visited each other, treating it like we were just bouncing back and forth between two homes. Even after we moved in together, he still says it every day.
I sweep him into my arms, pulling him in for a long kiss. It feels like days instead of hours since I tasted him. He melts into my arms, making cute little greedy noises as he eagerly kisses me back. I pull away before he’s had his fill, knowing exactly how he’ll react.
As expected, he pouts and grumbles in complaint before threading his fingers through my hair and yanking me back down. This time, I keep kissing him until the timer in the kitchen beeps.
He blinks blearily as we part, his lips swollen and wet. “Did you make dinner?”
Usually, Wednesdays are date night, but I have other plans. “I had an insatiable urge for roast chicken,” I reply dryly.
To my surprise, Alex’s brow furrows and his lips purse. “Oh.”
I pause halfway to the stove. “If you don’t want it, we can still go out to dinner.”
“No! I mean, you’ve already made it, and I don’t want it to go to waste.”
“It wouldn’t go to waste,” I promise. “I’d just pack it up so we can eat it tomorrow.”
He bites his lip, considering. After a long moment, he says, “No, it’s fine. We can … we can change date-night to tomorrow.” He doesn’t really look like he means it.
Should I take advantage of his people-pleasing side, or should I put it off for another night? One more day of waiting won’t change anything. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” This time his answer is firm. “It always tastes better fresh.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the change in plans ahead of time.”
He smiles softly and walks over to plant a sweet kiss on my cheek. “It’s fine, really. But tomorrow, I want to check out that new gastropub downtown. The menu has some really weird things on it we should try.”
“Sounds perfect,” I reply, kissing him back. “Why don’t you get changed while I set up?”
His eyebrows arch. “Something sexy or something comfy?”
As tempting as the first option is, I tell him, “Comfy.” The more relaxed he is, the less nervous I’ll be.
By the time he comes back out, I’ve got dinner on the table and I’m pouring two glasses of sparkling juice. I considered pairing the chicken with wine, but I don’t want either of us to be that relaxed. I’m determined to have this conversation completely sober.
“Fancy,” he says as he takes a seat. “And now I feel underdressed.” He’s wearing plaid pajama pants and one of my graphic tees which is a little too big for him.
“You look perfect,” I promise, dropping a kiss on his curls.
Since I’m wearing something similar, he doesn’t complain further. He just tucks in, complimenting the food.
For a long moment, I just watch him, my stomach clenched too tight from nerves to eat anything. The first few minutes of the meal are always for enjoying the food, and then we slow down to talk about our days.
Alex pauses to sip his juice and his eyes lock on me, narrowed slightly in suspicion. He knows I haven’t touched anything yet.
I take a deep breath. “We’ve been together for about two years now—”
Alex’s expression suddenly drops.
Shit. That’s definitely not the reaction I expected. We’ve discussed marriage a few times, especially recently as we each tested the waters. I was pretty confident his answer would be ‘yes’, though there’s always a chance it could be ‘not yet’, but now I’m not so sure.
Do I plow ahead and let him say no? Or do I stop here?
But he doesn’t wait for me to say anything else before he jumps out of his seat.
I watch him, baffled, as he approaches the bookshelves now lining the living room wall.
He shuffles around a few of the figures until he finds what he wants, then stuffs it into his pocket and hurries back to the table.
Slightly out of breath, he thumps back into his seat. “Okay, go ahead.”
I’ve forgotten the lead-up I prepared, so I decide to just ask the question. I pull the velvet box from my pocket and open it before setting it on the table, turning it to face him. “Alex, will you marry me?”
“Yes!” He barely glances at the box before launching himself at me and peppering light kisses over my cheeks and lips.
I push away from the table, giving him room to straddle my lap. He settles in comfortably, knowing it’s right where he belongs. Before I can deepen the kiss, he pulls away from me.
Alex slips his hand into his pocket and pulls out … a velvet box.
“Euan Blair,” he begins, his eyes crinkled in mirth, “will you marry me?”
When he opens the box, I can’t help but laugh. It’s not quite the same ring, but it’s close enough. The only difference is the band in the middle, a black galaxy rather than solid blue. “Yes, of course.”
We exchange the rings, carefully slipping them on to each other’s fingers.
Alex holds his ring up to the light, a small smile playing on his lips as he admires it. “I was also planning to propose tonight,” he says. “That’s why I wanted to go out.”
The confession catches me off guard. Did I plan this wrong? “I thought you’d prefer a private proposal,” I explain carefully.
“I do,” he assures me with another quick kiss. “But I thought, y’know … after I fucked it up last time that I should try again.” Before I can apologize for ruining his moment, he assures me. “This is better. This is perfect.”
I grin up at him, pretty sure this is the happiest moment of my life. So far, at least. Knowing Alex, there are many happier days to come. “I can’t wait to be married to you again.”