“Also,” he said, and something had shifted in his voice, quieter now, stripped of its usual ease, “I have one more thing to ask before you get too busy saving theaters and terrifying contractors.”
I turned slowly.
Finn reached into his pocket.
My feet stopped moving and my hands forgot what they were doing.
He looked nervous.
Actually nervous.
Finn Morrow, who had faced zoning boards, collapsing beams, emergency inspections, and my worst grief without flinching, stood very still in the way that meant he didn’t trust his hands.
That was when something tight and hot gathered behind my eyes.
“Holland,” he said.
I shook my head once, already crying. “Don’t you dare make this too formal.”
A laugh broke out of him, unsteady and beautiful. “I had a speech.”
“Of course you did.”
“It was good.”
“I’m sure.”
“I mentioned load-bearing walls.”
“Oh my God.”
“And restoration.”
“Finn.”
“And how sometimes you don’t rebuild at all—you just clear the ground and figure out what was worth keeping.”
My laugh came out wrong, broken in the middle, and then I was crying.
He opened the small box in his hand.
The ring wasn’t enormous. It wasn’t showy. It was warm gold with a vintage oval stone and tiny side details that looked almost architectural, like someone had designed it with both romance and structure in mind.
It was perfect.
“I love you,” he said. “Not because of what you survived. Not because of what you built after. “I love all of you—the woman you were when you stayed too long, and the one you became when you left. I love the architect who took her name back, and the woman who still checks the locks twice while pretending she doesn’t cry over house renovation shows.”
“You see everything, don’t you?”
“I see you. And you sobbed over a pantry reveal last week.”
“It was a very functional pantry.”
He smiled, but his eyes were wet now too.
“I want the ordinary days with you,” he said. “I want the hard ones. I want coffee runs and permit fights and arguing over grout colors. I want to stand beside you while you build every room you were told you didn’t deserve. And when you don’t need me beside you, I’ll be behind you. Or across from you. Or wherever you want me. As long as I get to be there.”
My fingers pressed against my lips.
