I kneel and she puts her hand over her mouth.
She walked into my life looking for her father's approval and dismantled everything I thought I knew about myself in the process. How did I ever function before her?
I realize, I didn't, I was just going through the motions and calling it a life.
"I don't believe in miracles," I say. "I don't believe men like me deserve them if they exist." I pause. "But I wake up every morning and I see your face and I understand, suddenly and completely, how miracles happen."
She is crying.
"I will watch you pursue every dream you have," I continue, "whatever form they take. I will never allow a single hair on your head to be touched by danger or worry as long as I am alive." I hold her gaze. "And I promise this not only to you but to your mother. To the woman who raised you and deserved to see you become this. I promise her too."
"Will you marry me, Nathalie?"
"Yes." she says softly, stretching her hands toward me. I slide the ring into her finger and I stand, take her face in both hands, and kiss her.
I taste her sweet, soft lips, then push my tongue deep into her mouth. She moans into the kiss and kisses me back just as desperately, her tongue sliding.
I lift her again and I carry her toward the bedroom, still kissing her the entire way. My free hand grips her ass hard, fingers digging into the fabric of her dress as I walk. She kisses my jaw, then my neck, her teeth grazing my skin as I carry her. I kick the bedroom door open with my foot. It slams against the wall.
She pulls back just enough to look at me.
"Luca," she says, "This dress is expensive. You cannot rip it."
I exhale. "Just put it in my side of the wardrobe! Yours has too many dresses. I can't wait."
I set her down and I help her unzip the dress, she opens my wardrobe and she reaches up to hang it and something falls and it lands on the floor between us.
We both look at it. And I curse under my breath.
The bra. Her bra! I completely forgot. I had hidden it the minute we came to Las Vegas keeping in mind to throw it away subtly myself when I had the time. And I had forgotten! I had been so busy these last months that I forgot.
I had part of the room changed into a walk-in closet so she never had a reason to go to my wardrobe. Except now! I am cooked.
The bra is now sitting on the wardrobe floor. I close my eyes briefly.
She reaches down and she picks it up and she holds it and she turns it over and she looks at it and she reads the tag and her expression moves through several stages and then she turns and she looks at me and she says, very slowly, "Luca? What's this?"
"Nathalie—"
"This is bra." She holds it up. "This is an old line. This specific design. I had one exactly like this." She looks at me and her eyes go wide. "Luca. Is this my bra? It looks one I had ages ago."
"Listen—"
"Oh my God, you're the pervert," she breathes. "From that night. It was you."
"If you would just let me?—"
"It was you," she says again. She looks at the bra and then at me. "The crystal. That's why you asked me about it. It came off your watch that night, didn't it."
I nod.
I reach for her. "I know what you're thinking and I need you to understand that you already agreed to marry me, you can't change that."
She laughs.
I pull her toward me and she is still laughing and I say, with more urgency than I would like to admit, "You cannot leave me. The ring is on your finger."
"Alright, alright," she manages, between laughing.
