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“What are you thinking about?” I ask him curiously.
He looks so much happier than the last time I woke up. Lighter and unburdened.
“I was just wondering if I can take care of you forever,” he answers quietly.
My pace quickens and my heart slams in my chest. Is he saying what I think he’s saying? I have to act coy. I don’t want him thinking I’m one of those girls who lose themselves to a man. I want to play this calm and collected, even if I don’t feel even close to calm.
“Whatever do you mean?” I ask coyly, and he leans down to kiss me.
“I was wondering, Miss Mikhailov, if you’d be interested in being my wife.”
I smile brightly, nodding quickly at his nonchalant proposal. I can see in his eyes, though, that he’s as nervous and out of control as I am. This wasn’t an easy question for him to ask, and it’s not one he came to lightly.
“So where’s my ring?” I ask, and he throws his head back to laugh.
“If I know you at all,” he starts. “You would prefer to pick out your own ring. I was thinking we can go tomorrow.”
“Exactly how long have you been thinking this?” I ask curiously.
“Of marrying you? Oh, since the second I saw you tearing through that church in your wedding dress.”
I roll my eyes and swat him. “Seriously,” I say. “You have a whole plan to pick out a ring and everything. How long have you wanted to marry me?”
“Seriously,” he mocks. “I’ve wanted to marry you since that first day, and every day since has just confirmed what I already knew. But I wanted to make sure you wanted it too. I meant what I said earlier. I believe you’re your own person, capable of making your own decisions.”
I kiss him sweetly, even more in love with him. He truly loves me and cares for me in a way that no one in my family ever has or ever could.
“Yes,” I answer. “I’ll marry you, and I’ll go with you tomorrow to pick out a ring. But I have a condition.”
He smiles, his lids heavy with tiredness. “Anything,” he whispers.
“When we get the ring, you have to kneel down in a really romantic place and propose to me in a proper way.”
“You mean you don’t think a naked proposal in bed is proper?” he asks sarcastically.
“It’s a good start. But you still have a few things to learn.”
“I can’t wait for you to teach me,” he whispers, closing his eyes.
His breath slows and he finally succumbs to the sleep he so clearly needs. His eyes open suddenly, though, and he fixes me with a serious look.
“Oh, also I forgot to tell you. I called your brother to chew him out, and he says he’s really sorry. He wants to talk to you so he can apologize to you himself.”
I sit up, shocked by this news, but he, in turn, closes his eyes and falls right back to sleep. Men. Figures.
I wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world, though. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and my heart swells at the thought of being his wife. It’s a choice I never imagined I’d get to make. Before I met him, I was destined to marry a man I didn’t love. I was headed down the aisle in shackles, sacrificing myself so I could please my family.
I didn’t know then that nothing I did would ever be enough, and it was so much more important for me to find the things in life that make me happy. Like Johnny. He makes me so ridiculously happy. He does it in big and small ways, every day showing me in a new way how much he loves me.
I’m lucky that he decided to show up and implode my life. Where would I be without him?
Likely, I’d be in a brownstone in Brooklyn, already sleeping in a different room than my husband. I would be sure already that there was no hope of ever falling in love with him, despite the way my mother told me that feeling would grow. I would probably realize how unhinged he is, and I’d be lying in bed crying and wishing someone had cared enough about me to end my sham of a wedding.
When I ran out of my bridal suite, I’d secretly hoped someone in my family would see how panicked I was and tell me I didn’t have to go through with it. I told myself that I just needed a minute to compose myself, but that never would have done the trick. I needed someone to see how afraid I was and help me. I was sinking, and I needed a lifeline.
And there was Johnny, throwing me a flask to hold on to for dear life. Could he have really known then this is how it would turn out? I’d like to believe that he did. The romantic in me truly wants to believe he knew he wanted to marry me right then and there.
But I was a different person then. I had to meet him and argue with him and make love to him before I could become this person who’s so empowered and so comfortable with herself. He had to kidnap me from my life and show me there’s so much more to the world than pleasing a family that doesn’t care about me.
