Page 167 of You Fall First

“Nope,” she chirps. “I am.”

“Sorry to argue, but I am the most, most lucky, and I can prove it.”

“Oh, really?” She arches a brow. “Proceed.”

I draw in a breath, then exhale. I’ve practiced this speech in the mirror so many times, I’ve got the words memorized. I even did a run-through out loud to Dex. Made him cry.

Bonus.

“I’m the luckiest,” I say, “because in all the years that have ever happened or ever will happen, I get to exist on this earth at the same time as you.”

She gapes at me for a moment. “Excuse me, sir. But who even are you, and what have you done with Noah Stadler?”

“Shh. I practiced this.”

“Sorry!” She makes a motion to zip her lips, and I pause for a refill of oxygen so I don’t keel over.

“Of all the billions of people in the world,” I continue, “the ones who came before us, and the ones who’ll come after, we got to meet. Our two paths collided.” My mouth twitches. “Dutton literally crashed into you.”

She chuckles. “Yes, he did.”

“And that’s the moment my life made sense. Because of you.”

She makes a tiny sound in the back of her throat.

Like “oh,” except sweeter.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about that first time we kissed,” I tell her, hoping not to mess this part up. “Our first real kiss, I mean. Afterward, you said something about me winning gold stars and blue ribbons.”

She offers me a shy half smile. “Your mouth earned every award that night.”

“I’ll go ahead and accept the ribbon. But you get the stars, Jo. Every last one.”

She draws her lip under her teeth.

“I love you like that, Jo. As big as the stars. And that wasn’t a decision I made. My heart chose you for me.”

“Noah.”

“A year ago, I told your brother I was all in. Turns out I underestimated myself. I feel so much more for you than all. So if you’ll let me, I’ll work every single day of my life to be worthy. To be the husband you deserve.”

Her eyes are impossibly wide and shining.

“Jo Michaels.” I fumble in my pocket, about to go down on one knee. “Would you be my⁠—”

She shrieks with joy and leaps up to hug me, but her skull bonks my chin. Then I’m laughing, and Jo is sniffling happy tears, and we’re both exactly who we always were to each other.

Who we’ll always be. Forever.

I am officially the most grateful, luckiest, no-longer-nervous man in the universe.

“Hold on,” she says, pausing to rub her head. “You didn’t finish the question.”

“You didn’t let me.”

“Say it now.”

Brow quirks. “Say what?”