63. Luke
Luke
Isilently wipe the tear from Blake’s cheek with the knuckle of my index finger, gently unfolding it as the pad runs over her perfect red lips. As it passes, she lays a feather-like kiss against my skin, making goosebumps move over my body like waves crashing on the shore.
She is absolute perfection, her red hair in loose curls toppling over her shoulders, her eyes sparkling in the light on the nearby Christmas tree, the scent of vanilla and honey circling around me.
I had a plan, a speech ready, but the moment I saw her, everything disappeared. All of my words vanished like smoke coming off a cigar-fleeting.
I place another kiss on her lips, claiming them with just a touch. When I pull away, her eyes are shimmering like glass marbles, coated in tears that have yet to leave the comfort of her brilliant eyes.
I swallow the lump building in my throat. “Be my wife, B.”
It’s not a question. Questions are for things you don’t know the answer to. This is a request for the inevitable.
“Yes.” She smiles and then her lips are on mine again.
At this moment, everything is right. Everything is exactly how it’s meant to.
I can’t wait to change her name-to hear it come off her lips when she introduces herself; Blake Jennings-two words always meant to sit side by side. She’s finally going to be my wife, and there is nothing that can stop me from worshiping her, this time around.