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He stood there, frozen, not turning around, but that was okay. I wasn’t sure I could do this if he looked at me.
God, my mouth was so dry I couldn’t swallow.
“I love you,” I said, and I could see people filming us with their phones out of the corner of my eye, but I didn’t care. “I’m wild crazy for you, and I’m sure I’ll kill you at some point, but… God, I love you so much, and I want you to marry me.” More tears streamed down my face as I choked out the words. “Marry me, Will Grayson.” I rushed up and hugged his back, wrapping my arms around him. “Can you marry me? Can I marry you?”
I held him, my cheek resting against his back and water catching between my lips.
He was going to laugh. He was probably freaked out or maybe angry I asked him instead of letting him ask me—if those were his intentions anyway.
Shit…
But then, he spun around, picked me up off my feet, and kissed me, pressing his lips to mine and backing me into a parked car.
Laughter went off around us, and I wrapped my arms and legs around him, reveling in his strong mouth and the warmth of his body.
I moaned, kissing him again and again. “Is that a yes?”
He chuckled and dropped me to my feet. I blinked against the rain, watching him dig into his pocket for something.
He pulled it out, pinching a vintage Victorian ring with a teardrop diamond and a platinum band encrusted with more jewels, encased by an ornate setting above and below. It was almost like three rings in one, and nearly an inch in width.
“It’s very old,” Will said, slipping it onto my finger, his hand shaking.
“It’s your family’s?”
“It’s yours now.” He met my eyes. “It’s been yours for nearly ten years.”
I stared up at him, tears blurring my vision. He was going to ask me himself?
I took his face in my hands and looked into his eyes, our noses nearly touching as our life up, until this point, played through my head.
The pool at school and the feel of his body in the movie theater.
Dancing at Homecoming and him sweeping me into his arms and carrying me to his bed at Blackchurch.
The intoxicating scent of his truck, and the rain on the bus windows, hiding us inside.
There was so much more than the fights and the pain.
“I’m marrying you,” I whispered.
He nodded. “’Bout time you caught up.”
I started to laugh, diving in and kissing him, cheers going off at the tavern.
Will chuckled against my lips. “We need to get out of here,” he said.
I took his hand, pulling him along. “Come on.”
I knew just the place.
Running toward the cathedral, we splashed through puddles, turned right, and raced into the patch of grass between the church and the sidewalk.
“Where are we going?” he called out.
“Hiding us away.”
The main doors would be closed now, but I’d found out years ago that Father Behr never really locked the basement door, so old Mr. Edgerton could sleep off the whiskey here instead of facing his wife hammered.
