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“No…why?”
“I don’t know. You look different.”
“Today’s a special day,” I tell her.
“In what way?”
I nod to the car. “Follow me, and I’ll show you.”
* * *
The sun is setting as I drive out of the city toward the upscale suburbs, my heart pounding in the base of my throat. The speed limit has never seemed so infuriating.
We’ve still got twenty minutes until we’ll be there.
Suddenly, I pull up at the side of the road, my anticipation thundering.
“Why have we stopped?” Freya asks.
I turn to her, drinking in every inch of her perfection, knowing Annabelle was worrying for nothing. This feeling will never fade, no matter how much time passes.
The intensity willalwaysbe there.
“I wanted to take you out to our new house,” I say.
She gasps. “Our new…what?”
I nod. “I laid down a sizable payment a couple of weeks ago. It’s ours. It has five bedrooms and a big yard, perfect for those art projects we discussed. But I can’t wait, Freya, not anymore.”
I climb from the car and then walk around to her side. She’s already opening it by the time I reach her, but I pull it open the rest of the way, and then she collapses into my arms.
She’s breathing fast, making me think she knows what’s coming. It wouldn’t be difficult for her to guess, but I don’t think it takes away from how special this is.
The fact we both hunger for it every single second only makes it more significant.
“I promised your mom I’d wait,” I whisper in my woman’s ear.
She leans back in my arms, staring up at me with that captivating light in her eyes, shining with the onset of happy tears.
“Is that what you were speaking about?” she whispers.
“I wanted to ask you this the second it was all over.” My hands tighten on her hips, claiming her just like the first time, except now there’s no doubt, no wondering if she feels the same. “There are rose petals in the house. There are candles ready to be lit. There’s food. And hell…it’s not the side of a road.”
She giggles, her voice cracking as a car speeds past.
“But I can’t wait.”
She grabs my chest, squeezes down, staring at me. “I don’t want to wait either.”
I smile and take a step back. Even if letting her go causes me pain as italwaysdoes, our bodies demand to be close and melt into each other endlessly.
“I love you, Freya. I’ll never stop loving you. I’ll never stop feeling this.” My shoulder aches as if the full heart tattoo is beating. “I loved you the second I saw you. I don’t care if people doubt that. I waited out of respect for your mother, not becauseIwasn’t sure. I am. I was sure of it the night we met.”
When I kneel, she makes a noise of pure emotion, joy clashing with surprise. I reach into my pocket and take out the ring box, so grateful I finally get to do this.
“Freya Abrams,” I say, opening the box, displaying the ring with its elegant band and full diamond. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” she yells, and that’s when I feel them.
