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I let out a breathy chuckle. “No, baby. It’s because you’re my forever.”
“I thought we talked about this,” she says, her tone confused.
“We did. And to be honest, I wasn’t planning on it until just this moment. I don’t even have a ring.”
A smile tugs at the corner of her lips. “Was it the sex? Because even I’ll admit it was pretty amazing. I’d marry me in a heartbeat.”
This time I let out a booming laugh.
“It’s not because of the sex, though it was superb as usual,” I wink. “It’s because I want to marry you. You’re my person, Birdie. You’re my best friend, the love of my life, my forever. I want to travel the world with you and protect you from obsessed fans and paparazzi. I want to hold you when you cry and cheer you on. I want to be the first one that hears your new songs and the person you see when you open your eyes every morning. I want to be your everything, Birdie, and I want the world to know it too.”
Tears shine in her eyes, and before I know what’s happening, she’s kissing me fiercely. My hands grip her cheeks, and her arms go around my neck. Our kiss is passionate, hard, and everything I need. When she finally pulls back, lips swollen, I’m crying too.
Her green- and gold-flecked eyes gaze into mine, their depths full of love and happiness. “You know that I don’t need a piece of paper to tell me that you’re mine, Liam Miller.”
My stomach sinks. I feel like I’m being punked. She shakes her head at me when she sees my fear. “Let me finish,” she says patiently.
“I don’t need a piece of paper, but I do need you. I’ve always needed you. You’re my person, too. You’re my forever, too. Tonight, watching Ben and Wren say their vows, it made me realize I want to be married to you, Liam. I want the world to know you’re mine and that I’m yours. So yes, my sweetfiancé, I will marry you. I’ll marry you tomorrow if you want.”
“Vegas?” I blurt out.
She laughs. “Okay, well, maybe not tomorrow. But you know what I mean!” I pull her to me; our bodies plaster together like we’re two pieces of a puzzle that fit together perfectly.
I kiss the crown of her head and look to the ceiling as if I can see the night stars plastered above us, as if we’re sixteen again and listening to music while we lean on each other for more than just friendship.
I didn’t know it then, but I sure as hell know it now.
Birdie Wilder is mine, and I’m never letting her go.
