Page 96 of Shattered

“I like it.”

“Yeah?”

“I love it.”

She worked for another hour. I sat there with my coffee and my laptop and felt completely content. This was my life now. Delia creating while I existed nearby. Perfect domesticity.

The ring had been in my pocket for three weeks.

I’d been waiting for the right moment. A special dinner. A planned event. Something worthy of the question.

But watching her paint in my living room at seven a.m., hair in a messy bun and paint on her cheek, I realized the right moment was any moment with her.

“Let’s go to your mom’s garden,” I said suddenly.

She looked up. “Now?”

“Now.”

“I’m covered in paint.”

“I don’t care.”

“You’re still in your pajamas.”

“Still don’t care.”

She studied my face. “What’s going on?”

“Just come with me.”

We drove to the garden. Still early enough to catch the roses blooming. Birds singing. Morning sun making everything look gold.

I led her to the bench we’d installed. The one overlooking Elena’s favorite flowers.

Then I pulled the ring from my pocket.

Delia’s eyes went wide. “Axel.”

“I’ve been carrying this for weeks,” I said. “Waiting for the perfect moment. Then I realized the perfect moment is any moment with you.”

“You’re proposing.”

“I’m proposing.” I dropped to one knee. The grass was wet with morning dew. I didn’t care. “Delia Santoro. I’ve loved you since I was fourteen years old. I’ve built my entire life with you in mind. And now that I finally have you, I want everything. Your chaos in my space. Your paint on my shirts. Your presence every morning. Legal and permanent and certain.”

She was crying. Silently. Tears running down her face while she stared at the ring.

“Will you marry me?” I asked.

“Yes.” The word came out choked. “Yes, obviously yes.”

I slid the ring on her finger. It fit perfectly. I’d checked her size weeks ago when she wasn’t paying attention.

She pulled me up and kissed me. Hard. Desperate. Like she’d been waiting for this moment as long as I had.

When we broke apart, we were both crying.

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask since I found Mom’s journal,” she admitted. “I kept checking your pockets for a ring.”