Chapter 19 #2
The Rothwell townhouse was exactly as intimidating as I'd expected—stone facade, wrought iron railings, the kind of quiet elegance that made me acutely aware of my truck parked on the street, my rough hands, and my lack of a college degree.
But I'd run into burning buildings. I'd faced down death more times than I could count. I could handle one intimidating father.
The housekeeper showed me to Charles Rothwell's study—a room lined with books and leather furniture, smelling of old money and expensive scotch. Ava's father was behind his desk, but he stood when I entered, his expression unreadable.
"Mr. Torres. This is unexpected."
"I know. I should have called first. But I wanted to do this in person."
"Do what, exactly?"
I took a breath. "I'm going to ask Ava to marry me.
And I wanted to tell you first. Not to ask permission—she'd kill me if she thought I was treating her like property.
But out of respect. Because you're her father, and I know things have been complicated between you, and I want you to know that my intentions are—"
"Mr. Torres." Charles held up a hand. "Brian. Please. Sit down."
I sat. He sat across from me, studying my face with that sharp lawyer's gaze.
"You want to marry my daughter."
"Yes, sir."
"You understand that I had... different expectations for her. A different kind of life."
"I know."
"A surgeon. A professor. Someone from a family we knew, with a background we understood." He paused. "Not a firefighter from the Bronx like you."
I met his eyes.
He continued. "I spent years trying to make her into someone she didn't want to be. Pushed her away in the process. Lost her for fourteen years because I couldn't accept that my daughter had her own dreams, her own choices."
"She's an incredible woman."
"She is. And I almost missed it." He leaned back in his chair. "I'll be honest with you, Brian. When I first heard about you—a firefighter, her neighbor—I thought it was a phase. A rebellion against everything I'd tried to make her. I thought she'd come to her senses eventually."
I said nothing. Let him continue.
"Then I found out you ran into a burning building for her. No hesitation. No thought for yourself. Just... pure instinct." He shook his head. "I've spent my life around powerful men. Men with money, influence, connections. Not one of them would have done what you did."
"I'd do it again. Without thinking."
"I know you would. That's the point." He was quiet for a moment. "I would have chosen someone else for her. Someone easier to understand. Someone who fit the life I'd imagined." His eyes met mine. "But I'm not the one who gets to choose. She is. And she chose you."
"Sir—"
"I've seen how you take care of her. How you look at her. How she looks at you." He stood and extended his hand. "I don't think anyone else would have been a better match for my daughter. I mean that."
I stood. Shook his hand. "Thank you, sir."
"Charles."
"Thank you, Charles."
He nodded. "Welcome to the family, Brian. God help you."
The proposal was Zoe's idea.
"You can't just ask her at home," she said, sprawled across Shane and Maya's couch while I paced their living room. "That's boring. You need a moment. A setting. Something she'll remember."
"I'm not good at grand gestures."
"That's why I'm here." She sat up, eyes bright with excitement. "The hospital. You should propose at the hospital."
"At the hospital?"
"Think about it. You're a firefighter. She's an ER doctor. Your worlds collide there all the time. It's perfect."
"I can't just walk into the ER to propose."
"Not if you coordinate with Dr. Park." She grinned. "Schedule a real fire safety demonstration. Do the whole thing—extinguisher training, evacuation procedures, whatever. And then at the end, when everyone thinks it's over..."
Shane looked at Maya. Maya looked at Shane. They both looked at me.
"She's not wrong," Maya said.
"The kid's a genius," Shane agreed.
That’s how I ended up in full turnout gear at Queens General Hospital on a Tuesday afternoon.
Dr. Park had arranged everything. Annual training requirement, mandatory attendance. Ava had texted me that morning: Stuck at a fire safety thing today. Apparently, your people are coming to teach us how to use extinguishers. Kill me now.
I'd typed back: Sounds boring. Good luck.
She had no idea I was part of the crew.
The demonstration went smoothly. Shane walked them through extinguisher basics—PASS method, proper stance, when to fight, and when to flee.
Garrett covered evacuation routes. I hung back, letting the crew take the lead, watching Ava stand with her colleagues, looking professionally attentive and personally bored.
God, I loved her so much.
"Alright, that concludes our demonstration," Shane announced. "Thank you all for your time. Before you head back inside, Lieutenant Torres has a few final words."
Ava's head turned sharply toward me. Confusion flickered across her face—she hadn't realized I was here.
I stepped forward. The crew shifted behind me. Shane reached into the truck and pulled out the sign Zoe had painted in bright red letters:
This Is Not A Drill
"Brian?" Ava mouthed. "What are you—"
I walked toward her. The ER staff had gone silent, phones already out, recording. Dr. Park was grinning. Hands in his pockets. Like he'd been waiting for this.
"I've spent my career running into burning buildings. Never hesitated." I stopped in front of her. "But I hesitated for years with you. Because this scared me more than any fire."
"Brian—"
"But the only thing that ever scared me was losing you."
I dropped to one knee, right there on the concrete of the ambulance bay, still in my turnout gear. I pulled out the ring box and opened it.
"I almost lost you twice, and I won’t risk a third time." I looked up at her—at this woman who had changed everything, who had made me braver than I ever thought I could be. "Ava Rothwell, will you marry me?"
She was crying. Laughing. Both at once. Her hands were pressed to her mouth, her colleagues cheering around her, the whole ER watching through the windows.
"Yes," she said. "Yes, you absolute idiot. Of course, yes."
I slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly.
Then she was pulling me to my feet, kissing me in front of everyone—her colleagues, my crew, Dr. Park, who was very clearly crying. I lifted her off the ground, and somewhere behind us, Shane was whooping, the ER staff was applauding, and none of it mattered because she'd said yes.
She'd said yes.
"I love you," I said, setting her down.
"I love you too." She looked at the ring, then at me, then at the sign still held up behind us. "This is not a drill?"
"Zoe's idea."
"Remind me to thank her."
Dr. Park appeared beside us, clapping me on the shoulder. "Alright, show's over. Rothwell, you've got patients. Torres, get your engine out of my ambulance bay." But he was smiling as he said it. "Congratulations. Both of you."
"Thanks, Park," Ava said. "For everything."
"Just remember this when I need a favor." He walked away, already barking orders at the staff to get back inside.
The crew descended on us then—hugs and congratulations and Shane making jokes about finally getting me off the market. Rodriguez had tears in his eyes, though he'd never admit it. Garrett even smiled, which was basically the equivalent of a standing ovation from anyone else.
"You should call Sloane," Garrett said quietly. "She'll want to cover this."
I looked at him. Garrett Stone, voluntarily mentioning the journalist he'd been avoiding for months.
"I'll text her," Ava said, saving me from having to respond.
Through it all, Ava's hand stayed in mine.