“There was no final version.”
“What did you want it to say?”
His eyes shone.
“That you had made every place feel like home. That I wanted every ordinary day available. That I knew marriage would not improve what we had, but I wanted the legal world to recognize the family we already were.”
My chest tightened.
“I would have said yes.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
“You told Leah.”
A laugh broke through my tears.
“Of course I did.”
“You planned to make me suffer for several seconds first.”
“That sounds like me.”
“It was.”
I removed the ring from the box.
It fit over the first joint of my left ring finger.
I stopped before sliding it farther.
Reid watched.
“You bought this to ask a man who remembered five years with you.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not him.”
“You are not required to be.”
“I love you differently.”
“I know.”
“I chose you without the history.”
“Yes.”
“I chose you after the hospital. After the spare room. After the whistle. After I remembered the accident.”
His mouth trembled.
“I choose you now.”
Reid closed his eyes.
