Page 63 of Only Be Mine

My eyes refused to stay shut.

I’d fallen asleep wrapped in John’s arms, warm and sated and dizzy with everything the night had been, but sometime before dawn, my body had betrayed me. I lay awake now, staring at the ceiling, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing beside me.

Engaged.

The word felt too big for the quiet room.

Getting married wasn’t something you casually agreed to. It wasn’t a dress you could return or a job you could quit if it didn’t fit. It was permanent in a way nothing else in my life had ever been.

I shifted carefully, easing the covers back inch by inch so I wouldn’t wake him. He didn’t stir. I slipped out of bed and padded down the stairs barefoot, the house still wrapped in that pre-dawn hush that made everything feel suspended.

In the kitchen, I grabbed the jar of peanut butter, a spoon, and my phone.

Some instincts you don’t question.

The phone rang four times before Amy answered, her voice thick with sleep. “Hello?”

“I’m engaged.”

The words tumbled out before I could stop them.

There was a long pause. Then, “Cate?” A yawn. “Is that you?”

“John asked me to marry him last night. And I said yes.”

There. The facts were out in the open. Now came the part where we figured out whether I’d just made the bravest decision of my life - or the worst one.

I twisted the lid off the peanut butter and dipped the spoon in, grounding myself in the familiar comfort of it. On the other end of the line, someone groaned.

“Amy?” I asked. “You there?”

“Yeah. Hold on.”

I glanced at the clock on the stove. It was just after five. Somewhere in the background, Jim muttered something unintelligible.

“Oh God,” I said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was that early.”

“It’s okay,” she said, voice already more awake. “Get dressed and meet me at Moe’s in thirty minutes.”

“Sounds perfect.”

I hung up, took one last spoonful of peanut butter, and headed back upstairs. I brushed my teeth, pulled my hair into a ponytail, and slipped into an old pair of jeans and one of John’s sweaters. It smelled like him, cedar and clean cotton, and my chest tightened unexpectedly.

In the bedroom, he shifted as I leaned down to kiss him.

“I’m going to meet Amy,” I whispered.

His eyes cracked open. “What time is it?”

“Too early,” I said, sitting on the edge of the bed. I brushed my fingers along his jaw, over the faint scratch of stubble. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be back soon.”

He tugged the covers up and smiled, already halfway gone again. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The words came easily.

As I walked out the door, I waited for something to feel different. For the world to tilt. For some internal switch to flip.