My throat closes.
For once, I do not joke or hide behind something clever.
“I love you.”
He goes completely still.
I swallow.
“I love you, and before you decide I am confused, traumatized, or suffering from delayed smoke inhalation, I am not.”
Something breaks across his face.
His hands close around mine.
“I love you too.”
My breath catches.
He says it again, rougher this time.
“I love you, Kaia.”
Tears burn behind my eyes.
He looks at me for a long moment. Then he says, “Marry me.”
I blink.
“What?”
“I know the timing is terrible.”
A laugh catches somewhere between my chest and my throat.
“You think?”
“I almost lost you twice in less than a week. I am done waiting for a better time to say what I want.”
My heart starts pounding for an entirely different reason.
Zain takes both my hands in his.
“I grew up in foster homes. I spent years learning not to expect anyone to stay, and I told myself I did not need a family because it was easier than admitting how badly I wanted one.”
His voice roughens.
“I want one with you.”
I cannot breathe.
“A loud one. Kids. As many as we can handle. A house that is never too quiet. Children who know every day that they are wanted and loved, and never have to wonder if someone is going to send them away.”
Tears spill over before I can stop them.
Zain’s expression shifts.
“Kaia.”
