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“This was my great-grandmother’s ring. It’s been passed down from generation to generation. My dad actually proposed to my mom with it and she gave it to me when I told them both that I wanted to marry you.”
Her eyes fill with tears.
“I know it’s not the biggest, but the tradition in my family is that you upgrade to whatever ring your wife wants after you have your first baby, then the ring will go to our son or daughter when they get married.”
“Are you proposing?”
I chuckle. “Well, not really.”
She smacks my arm hard. “Then what the hell, Tyler?”
“I’m sorry,” I laugh, “I will. I brought it because I wanted to ask your father for your hand in marriage, but I wanted to show you that I was serious. I’m not just toying with you. I wanted you to see this ring—to know how important it is to me and my family, because we all trust you. They want you in the family too.”
Her shoulders drop in relief. “I know my parents will appreciate the gesture of asking for my hand, but I can just about guarantee you my dad will say I’m not his property or something like that.”
“And that’s perfectly okay; it’s just about the gesture and respect. I want your family to know how much you mean to me and how much I love you.”
We drive the rest of the way to her family home with her in my lap and my arms wrapped around her.
The car comes to a stop and she reaches over and takes my hand. “You sure you’re ready to meet my family?”
I nod confidently. “Just one question,” I say, and she stops and looks back at me. “What happens if tomorrow, TikTok calls you up and offers you $50 million a year to run their social media?”
“Well, first I’d tell them that their salary offering is absolutely insane, because not even the CEO makes that. Then I’d tell them I could only take the job if I could work fully remote in Colorado, where I live with my husband.”
“Oh, so you’d leave Slade just like that, huh?” I tease, pinching her ass.
At that moment, the driver grabs our bags out of the back of the SUV and wheels them over to us. I tip him before turning back to her.
“Babe,” she says, “if someone is offering me $50 million a year, you think I’m passing that up? But seriously,” she grabs my hand and looks up at me, “I love my job and I’m not leaving. It’s not about the money. It’s about the fact that I’m working with and for people I respect and love. People who treat me like family. That’s more important than any amount of money.”
“Good answer,” I say as I grab her hand and let out a deep breath as we make our way up the driveway to the front porch.
“Besides,” she says with a snarky wink just as the front door opens, “I’m marrying into a billionaire family, so I’m not working much longer!”
