Page 229 of Rising Heat

I’ve done this once before.

I’ve stood in front of a man holding out a ring and felt mostly stunned by the fact that it was happening at all. I remember smiling because that was the right response and trying very hard to locate the feeling underneath it everyone always talks about. Relief, maybe. Gratitude. Panic wearing a nice outfit. I kept waiting for certainty to arrive after the fact, like marriage was something you grew into if you behaved correctly long enough.

I loved Brett.

But standing in front of him never felt like standing in front of my person.

Standing in front of Mack and Tyler now feels so different it almost makes me angry at the woman who once thought the first time was enough.

The only thing in my body right now is yes.

They both look up at me, but the words spill out before either of them can say a thing.

“Yes,” I say, laughing through the tears. “Obviously yes. A thousand times yes.”

The room erupts around us, and the relief that flashes across Tyler’s face makes me laugh again as he takes the ring box from Mack. He opens it with hands that are steadier than mine feel right now, and a moment later the ring slides onto my finger.

I stare down at it for a second, turning my hand beneath the low restaurant lights. Two carats, marquise cut, elongated and pointed at both ends, set low in a simple platinum band. Clean. Uncluttered. Exactly the kind of ring I’ve always stopped to stare at for too long in jewelry store windows before pretending I wasn’t looking.

Mack is in front of me before I can say anything, both hands warm against my cheeks as he presses his forehead to mine. I feel the breath leave him, followed by the tiny shake that tells me just how hard he’s been holding himself together.

Then Tyler’s arms come around me, and he’s laughing against my hair while I cry into his shoulder because apparently there are no limits to how publicly emotional I’m capable of becoming.

Around us, the room slowly comes back to life. Chairs scrape against the floor. Glasses clink. Carmela is openly crying now, while Jim claps both boys on the shoulder hard enough to nearly knock Tyler sideways. My father hugs Mack first, which almost takes me out completely, then pulls Tyler into the same embrace while pretending his eyes aren’t red.

When my mother finally reaches me, she pulls me into her arms and holds me there.

“You look happy.”

I close my eyes.

“I am.”

And for once, there’s nothing complicated underneath it.

Home feels different afterward.

The apartment still smells faintly like the sandalwood candle I lit before we left, the air conditioning humming steadily against the summer heat.

Tyler’s tie lands somewhere near the kitchen as we head up the loft stairs, and Mack’s suit jacket ends up over the back of the couch before he follows us down the hall, already looking at me like he’s hungry for me again.

My heels come off beside the bed, and I’m still turning the ring slowly around my finger when Tyler sits on the edge of the mattress and reaches for me.

“Fiancée,” he says softly, like he’s trying the word out.

“Wife,” Mack corrects from behind him.

My stomach flips.

“Not officially. Not yet.” I look between them.

Tyler catches his lower lip between his teeth, then smiles.

“A matter of paperwork. Now come here.”

He draws me into his lap, and I barely have time to laugh before his mouth finds mine. His hands slide beneath the silk at my waist, and I feel him smile when his fingers find the zipper at my back.

“We’re keeping this dress,” he murmurs.