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“Don’t be. The only thing that matters is that you’re here, with me.” He lifted something from his pocket and pressed it into her hand. “Always, I hope.”
She stared down at the royal blue box with unblinking eyes. “Zeke?”
“Open it.”
With excruciating slowness, she lifted the lid and gasped. “Zeke, it’s beautiful.”
“This isn’t how I’d planned it, but the moment felt right. Only—” he glanced down, “I don’t think it would be wise for me to get down on one knee on these stairs.”
“Ask me,” she whispered, a lone tear sliding down her cheek.
He removed the engagement ring, a white gold, emerald cut halo design with diamond accents, from its satin cushion and allowed it to hover over the end of her ring finger. “Will you”—he swallowed back the onset of his own tears—“have me, Olivia Thornton Westcott?”
“Yes.” Her chin trembled. “Always.”
He slid the ring onto her finger, and a roar of masculine voices shook the Great Hall.
Smiling, she cradled his face between her hands and whispered, “Always.” She kissed the corners of his eyes. “Always.” Her lips whispered over his cheek to his ear. “I think it’s time for number one.”
A slow smile pulled at his mouth, as he thought of all the ways he’d make her scream again.
And again.
And again.
* * *
