He opens a small velvet box, revealing a stunning ring, an emerald surrounded by diamonds, elegant and unique. Mybreath catches, heart pounding so loudly I'm sure he must hear it.
"Marry me, Sloane," he says simply. "Be my partner in everything, not just Winter Divisions and community integrations, but in life. In all of it."
I stare at the ring, then at him, shock rendering me momentarily speechless. "Atticus... we've only been together for three weeks."
"And best friends for three years before that," he points out. "I know this seems fast by conventional standards. But when have we ever been conventional?"
A surprised laugh escapes me, tension breaking slightly. "Never."
"Exactly." His expression remains earnest, vulnerable in a way I've only seen in our most private moments. "I don't need more time to know what I want, Sloane. Who I want. It's you. It's always been you."
"But New York," I manage, clinging to practicality even as my heart threatens to burst. "Your life is there."
"My work is there," he corrects. "And with technology and regular travel, I can maintain that while building a life here, with you. If that's what you want."
The idea, Atticus restructuring his entire life to accommodate mine, to remain in Hope Peak, is so unexpected that I can hardly process it.
"You'd do that?" I whisper. "Stay here?"
"I'd do anything for you," he says with simple conviction. "But this isn't a sacrifice, Sloane. These weeks in Hope Peak have shown me what I've been missing, community, connection, a life beyond boardrooms and bottom lines. Being with you, here, feels right in a way nothing in New York ever has."
Tears blur my vision as the full weight of his words sinks in. "You're serious about this."
"Completely." He takes my hand, his touch steadying me. "I love you, Sloane Parker. I think I have for years, even before I recognized it. And if you need time to think about this, I understand. But I needed you to know where I stand. What I want."
The declaration, so straightforward, so Atticus, breaks the last of my hesitation. "Yes," I say, the word emerging as both a laugh and a sob.
His eyes widen. "Yes?"
"Yes, I'll marry you." I slide from the sofa to kneel before him, our faces level now. "I love you too, Atticus. So much it terrifies me sometimes."
Relief and joy transform his features as he takes the ring from its velvet nest. "May I?"
I extend my trembling left hand, watching as he slides the ring onto my finger, a perfect fit, because of course Atticus Morgan would ensure every detail was flawless.
"It's beautiful," I whisper, admiring how the emerald catches the firelight.
"It reminded me of your eyes," he admits. "And of that first emerald dress."
"Sentimental," I tease gently, even as tears threaten again. "Who would have guessed?"
"Only with you," he assures me, framing my face with his hands. "Always only with you."
Then his lips find mine in a kiss that tastes of whiskey and promises and a future I hadn't dared imagine until this moment. I melt into him, my arms winding around his neck as the kiss deepens, happiness bubbling through me like the champagne we've been drinking all night.
When we finally break apart, both breathing harder, I find myself laughing, a sound of pure joy that seems to bubble up from some inexhaustible well inside me.
"What's so funny?" Atticus asks, smile matching mine.
"Us," I say, resting my forehead against his. "The infamous CEO proposing on one knee in a rented cabin. My father is going to have a field day with this."
"Speaking of your father," Atticus begins, looking suddenly sheepish. "I may have called him last week to ask for his blessing."
My eyes widen. "You didn't."
"I did." He looks both pleased with himself and slightly embarrassed. "He said, and I quote, 'About damn time you figured it out, Morgan. I've been watching you look at my daughter like she hung the moon for years.'"
Fresh laughter bubbles up. "That sounds exactly like him."
