23. Elliot
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Elliot
I’ve been carrying the ring for three weeks.
It’s in my pocket right now, a small velvet box that weighs almost nothing and yet feels heavier than anything I’ve ever carried.
I’ve reached for it a dozen times. At dinner last Tuesday.
During the sunset walk on the beach. While she was laughing at something on TV, her head thrown back, her whole face lit up with joy.
Each time, I chickened out.
It’s pathetic, really. I’ve built companies from nothing. I’ve negotiated deals worth hundreds of millions. I’ve faced down hostile business partners and ruthless competitors without flinching. I’ve made decisions that affected thousands of people without losing a minute of sleep.
None of it made my palms sweat like the thought of asking Cassie to marry me.
Because none of it mattered like this matters.
She’s asleep right now, curled against my side in the bed we’ve shared for the past three months.
The moonlight through the window catches the curve of her cheek, the soft fall of her hair across the pillow.
She looks peaceful. Content. Happy in a way she wasn’t when I first met her, when she was all sharp edges and burning anger and barely contained pain.
I did that. Or rather, we did that together. We built this life from the wreckage of our old ones, and against all odds, it’s working.
I want to make it permanent. I want to stand up in front of everyone who matters and promise to spend the rest of my life making her happy. I want to give her my name, my home, my everything.
But every time I try to ask, the words get stuck in my throat.
What if she says no? What if it’s too soon? What if she’s not ready to trust marriage again after what Charles did to her?
What if I’m not enough?
I’ve never been enough for anyone. Not for the father who never claimed me, or the mother too worn down to notice me. Not for Celine, who only married me because she thought I’d be easy to manipulate. Everyone I’ve ever let close has either left or disappointed me.
But Cassie is different. Cassie sees through all my walls, all my defenses, all the careful masks I wear to keep the world at arm’s length. She sees the real me, the scared, lonely boy who grew into a guarded, controlled man, and she loves me anyway.
How do you ask someone like that to marry you? How do you find words big enough for what you feel?
“You’re thinking too loud.”
I startle. Cassie is looking up at me, her eyes soft with sleep and something else, something warm and knowing.
“Sorry,” I say. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t. I could feel you being tense from here.” She pushes up onto her forearm. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Liar.” She pokes my chest gently. “Something’s been bothering you for weeks. You get this look on your face, like you’re trying to solve a really complicated math problem. And then you check your pocket for something and look away.”
I freeze. She noticed that?
“It’s nothing,” I say weakly.
“Elliot.” Her voice is gentle but firm. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. We don’t keep secrets, remember? That’s our rule.”
She’s right. We made that promise to each other early on, after we’d both been burned by lies. No secrets. No hidden agendas. Complete honesty, even when it’s hard.
Especially when it’s hard.
I take a deep breath. This wasn’t how I planned to do this. I had reservations at her favorite restaurant. I had a speech prepared. I had a whole romantic evening mapped out with candles and flowers and probably some kind of string quartet because I’ve never been good at doing things halfway.
But maybe perfect moments don’t happen when you plan them. Maybe they happen when you’re brave enough to seize them.
“Marry me,” I say.
Cassie goes very still. “What?”
“Marry me.” The words come easier now that I’ve started. “I know it’s sudden. I know we’ve only been together a few months. I know you have every reason to be scared of marriage after what happened with Charles.”
“Elliot…”
“But I love you. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. I love the way you laugh and the way you fight and the way you refuse to let anyone push you around. I love waking up next to you and falling asleep next to you and every single moment in between.”
“Elliot…”
“I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to build something real and lasting and beautiful with you. I want to show the whole world that we found each other, that we chose each other, that nothing and no one can tear us apart.”
“Elliot.” She puts her hand over my mouth. “Stop talking for a second.”
I stop, my heart pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. This is it. This is where she tells me it’s too soon. Where she says she’s not ready. Where everything falls apart.
Instead, she smiles. A brilliant, joyful smile that lights up her whole face and makes my chest ache with how much I love her.
“Yes,” she says.
I’m not sure I heard her right. “Yes?”
“Yes, I’ll marry you.” She’s laughing now, tears streaming down her face even as she grins. “You ridiculous, impulsive, wonderful man. Yes.”
For a moment, I can’t move. Can’t speak. Can’t do anything but stare at her like she’s told me I won the lottery.
Then I remember the ring.
I fumble in the nightstand drawer where I stashed the box earlier, pulling it out with shaking hands. The ring inside is simple but elegant: a princess-cut diamond flanked by smaller stones, set in platinum. I’d spent weeks choosing it, driving Miranda crazy with my indecision.
“May I?” I ask, holding up the ring.
“Please.”
I slide it onto her finger, and it fits perfectly. Of course it does. Some things are just meant to be.
Then I kiss her, and she kisses me back, and for a long time the world narrows down to just the two of us, tangled together in the moonlight, drunk on happiness.
“I love you,” she says when we finally break apart.
“I love you too.” I press my forehead to hers. “Forever.”
“Forever,” she agrees.
We make love again, slow and tender, and afterward we lie wrapped around each other as the moon moves across the sky. I think about all the years I spent alone, all the walls I built, all the ways I convinced myself that love was a weakness I couldn’t afford.
I was wrong. Love isn’t a weakness. Love is the strongest thing I’ve ever felt.
“Elliot,” Cassie murmurs against my chest.
“Hmm?”
“We should probably tell people. That we’re engaged.”
“Tomorrow.” I pull her closer. “Tonight, I just want it to be ours.”
“Okay.” She settles into my arms. “Tomorrow, then.”
I close my eyes, finally able to sleep.
Tomorrow we’ll tell our families. Tomorrow we’ll start planning the wedding. Tomorrow the real work of building a life together will begin.
But tonight, in this moment, none of that matters. What matters is that she said yes. What matters is that against all odds, through all the chaos and pain and betrayal, we found each other.
And I’m never, ever letting her go.