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“We sure don’t,” he said. “But it’s never been about the money, right? If it were, we’d be in something like plastic surgery. Make some very shallow people look beautiful.”
“Don’t mock the shallow,” Is aid. “Sometimes I think I could use a nose job.”
“Never,” he said, kissing my cheek. “Come on, what do you think? Private practice, marriage, maybe kids—”
“Slow down,” I said. “We only moved in together four years ago.”
He laughed and hugged me tight. “I know it’s been slow for a while, but I was waiting for you to finish. And now that you’re done, I feel like there’s so much ahead of us.”
He was right, of course. I knew he was right. All those complicated feelings seemed to vanish with him around. Piers had that effect on me, though only on me—everyone else still saw him as a surly, asshole surgeon.
But I knew he was the kindest, gentlest, best partner I could ever imagine.
“I think I can handle speeding things up,” I said.
“Good,” he said, and turned to face me, dropping to one knee. He took a ring out from his pocket and held it up. “So let’s start by getting married.”
I sucked in a breath, eyes wide. We’d talked about getting engaged, but we hadn’t discussed any specifics. My heart beat wildly, and several nurses walking nearby stopped and stared, mouths hanging open. I reached out my hand.
“Yes,” I whispered. “God, yes.”
He slipped the ring on my finger. It was simple, but gorgeous: princess cut, white gold band.
He stood and we kissed for what felt like forever. I was high on finishing my first surgery post-residency, and even higher on getting engaged to the man I loved.
I didn’t know what the future held, and in that moment, in his arms, it didn’t matter, because I knew he’d never let me go again. We were set for life—set with each other.
“Come on,” he said, tugging me close as the nurses nearby clapped and laughed wildly. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Okay,” I said, and let him lead me away—wherever he went, it didn’t matter, because I’d follow.
