Chapter 18 #2
The silence builds between us, like a wall meant to divide. This is bad, really bad. My chest tightens, and every worst-case scenario I can come up with is running through my mind. She’s staring down at the album as if it holds secrets, which, in a way, I guess it does.
My secrets.
However, they’re no longer secrets. I’ve bared my soul to her. I’ve held nothing back but this, and it wasn’t intentional. It was out of sight, out of mind. I had been looking for it, but not with urgency.
“Baylor…?” My tone is soft, and I can hear the worry, so I know that she can, too, but she might be too lost in her head to name it.
Her fingers trace the edge of the album, almost reverently, like it’s something fragile. Something to cherish. Slowly, she opens it.
The first page makes her inhale sharply.
I feel that inhale deep in my chest, as if it were my own. “Baylor—” I start, but her words cut me off.
“You made this?” she asks, barely above a whisper.
“Yeah. I mean… over time. It wasn’t—”
“For me?” she adds, finally looking up. There’s no anger in her eyes. No accusation. Just disbelief. And something dangerously close to tears.
“I made it for me,” I admit, my voice quieter now. “I didn’t plan it at first. It just… happened. Every time I missed you, every time something reminded me of you, I’d add to it. It was the only way I knew how to keep you close when I couldn’t actually be with you.”
Her lips part, but nothing comes out. She looks back down at the pages, turning each one carefully, like each memory carries weight. A small, shaky laugh escapes her, and she presses her fingers to her mouth like she’s trying to hold all her emotions inside.
“You’ve been carrying this around?” she asks.
I nod. “It was always with me, no matter where I was.”
“For years?”
“Yeah.”
That does it. My confession pushes her too far, and her eyes gloss over with tears. She shakes her head slightly, as if she’s having trouble processing her discovery.
“I thought—” she starts, then stops. “I thought I knew how much you cared about me, but this—” Her voice breaks just enough to make my chest ache. “This is… something else.”
“I wasn’t hiding it from you. I’d spent a weekend with Hank right before you came back to town and took it with me.
I didn’t need it after that because I had you here in the flesh.
I was looking for it a while back, but the priority was low because I had the real thing.
I’m sorry, baby, if this upsets you. But having this”—I run my finger over the thin spine of the album—“with me on the road, it gave me a piece of home, a piece of hope to hold on to.”
She pulls the item to her chest and holds it there, as if she wants it to become a part of her, which makes sense, because she’s my heart, and that little album is a huge part of me and my love for her.
“This is unreal,” she says, but there’s no bite to it, just wonder. “Do you have any idea what this means to me?”
I let out a relieved breath. “Thank fuck,” I mumble. “You’re not mad?”
Her head snaps up at that, eyes wide. “Mad? Are you serious?”
A nervous half laugh slips out of me. “I mean… I’ve been carrying around a photo album of you like some—”
Before I can finish, her arms fall from her chest, album still in one hand, and she wraps them around my neck, guiding me closer. I go willingly. I can never get close enough to her. The move knocks the rest of the words right out of my mouth.
“I’m not mad at you, cowboy,” she murmurs into my shoulder, her voice thick, but I can hear the happiness in her tone. “How could I ever be mad at you for loving me this much?”
I huff out a quiet laugh, my arms coming up around her automatically. “I love you. So much.”
She pulls back just enough to look at me, still gripping my shirt like she’s not ready to let go. “No one has ever…” She shakes her head, overwhelmed again. “No one has ever loved me like that.”
Something in my chest tightens, but it’s not fear this time. “Good,” I say softly. “Because I don’t think I know how to do it any other way.”
She studies me for a second longer, like she’s committing the moment to memory, before pressing her forehead against mine.
She doesn’t pull back right away. When she eventually does, it’s slow, as if she’s reluctant to put even an inch of space between us.
Her arms are still wrapped around my neck as her eyes search my face, like she’s suddenly seeing me clearly for the first time.
“You said something to me that first night you made me dinner,” she begins, her voice still a little unsteady. “You said you were going to make me fall in love with you.”
“I made you a promise, and I kept it,” I say, kissing the tip of her nose. There’s a hint of pride in my voice because I’m damn proud to call her mine.
She lifts the album slightly between us. “This?” she says softly. “This is action speaking louder than words. You said that you would show me, and you have in so many ways, but this…” Her voice trails off as she glances at the album again.
My breath catches, the words hitting me harder than anything else she could’ve said. Because I did promise her, and I’m a man of my word, especially where she’s concerned. I was never afraid to put in the work to show her what she means to me.
“But now,” she continues, and there’s a shift in the air. I can’t see it, but I can feel it. “I need you to do something for me.”
“Anything.”
“Marry me, Macklin.”
The words settle between us, clear, steady, impossible to take back.
For a second, I just stare at her, because my brain is trying to process what she said. Did she just—
“What?” I breathe, because I need to hear her say it again.
Her expression softens, as does the smile that tilts her lips.
“Macklin McBride, you kept your promise. You showed up for me every day. You’ve been steady and strong in your love for me, and never once pushed me for more than I was ready to give.
I know that this isn’t how these things are done, but I’ve spent so much time trying not to love again, to put my heart out there.
During that time, you were patient and gave me the time that I needed.
Tonight, this”—she holds up the album—“is years of loving me that I was never able to see. I heard your words, and I believed them, eventually.” She laughs lightly and presses the album back against her chest, over her heart.
I grip her hips because I don’t know what else to do with my hands. I need to hold on to her, to anchor her to me, or I’ll fall flat on my face here in the middle of my kitchen floor. The woman I love is asking me to marry her.
Holy shit!
“I don’t want to waste any more time pretending I’m not all in,” she continues.
“Because I am. I’m so far in, it’s actually a little terrifying.
” She smiles. “I love you, Macklin McBride. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want the baby we’re working on.
” She waggles her eyebrows, and we both laugh.
“I want the life we’re building. I want you to be my husband.
You’re my world, Macklin. You’ve taught me so much about myself by just allowing me to be me and find my way again.
I want you by my side for the rest of forever.
You carried me with you everywhere,” she adds quietly.
“I always want to be where you are. Will you marry me?” she asks again.
I let out a shaky exhale as my hands move to rest against her cheeks. Touching her anchors me to the moment. This is one I never want to forget. “You’re stealing my thunder, baby,” I tease.
“That’s not a no.” She grins.
“Baylor, there is nothing in this world I want more than to call you my wife. I’d marry you every day of forever if you’d let me.”
“That means yes, right?” she asks, raising her eyebrows, and the sass is back.
“That’s a hell yes,” I tell her, pressing my lips to hers.
I love her with every part of me, but if she thinks this is our only proposal, she is seriously mistaken.
Because what she doesn’t know is that today, when I had to go a couple of towns over, I also picked up her engagement ring.
I wasn’t sure when I was going to ask her, but I knew I needed it for when the moment felt right.
Sure, I could give it to her now, but she got her moment. Now, I want mine.
“I love you,” she whispers against my lips.
“I love you, too, Mrs. McBride.”
A breathtaking smile takes over her face. “Now, about those cuddles,” she says.
I toss my head back in laughter and lift her from the island. She wraps her arms and legs around me, and I carry her to the couch. She tosses the album next to us as I pull the blanket off the back and cover us.
It’s the perfect way to end the day. Cuddling my future wife.