“Given up on your bullshit about taking it day by day?” I slowly pull out of her and, if I were physically capable of it, I’d be immediately trying to fuck her again after watching a small stream of my cum run down her ass.
Her elbow’s crooked over her eyes in a post-orgasm glow—the most gorgeous she’s ever looked to me. Face awash with perfect contentment, she shifts her arm to look at me. “We spent fourteen years without each other. And, in the absolute worst-case scenario, we could have our time together cut short like our parents have. I mean, you could’ve killed yourself when you fell off that bronc, and I never would’ve been able to forgive myself for not telling you how badly I missed you for all those years. And I could’ve suffered worse things than a broken ankle, considering a horse fell on top of me. Luck’s been on our side. But it might run out, eventually.”
Her eyes track mine as I settle in next to her on the blankets. And she continues in a hushed tone while my kisses roam her goosebump-covered arm.
“When one of us dies or loses our memory one day, I want to know we had as much time together as possible,” she says. “I don’t need more time to figure out whether I still love you. I do, and I always have.”
“And you’re finally ready to let me love you?” I smile.
“Actually, can you grab me my purse?”
Weird segue to avoid my question, but at least she’s asking me for help. A couple days ago, even with the cast on her leg, she would’ve insisted on dragging her ass across the floor to get it herself.
“Of course, baby.” I hop up and grab her small black bag from beside the front door.
“Okay, ask me that question again.” A smile dances across her face, and she looks like she’s ready to explode with giddiness.
I side-eye her and hesitantly ask, “Are you ready to let me love you?”
She digs in the bag for a few seconds, and I’m fully anticipating that she’s going to dump her clutter all over our laps to find whatever it is she’s looking for. But instead she produces a box.
A black velvet box I haven’t seen since that night in her dorm room.
“You kept it….” I stroke her milky-white upper thigh, waiting with bated breath for her to explain herself.
“Of course I did. Not just because it was your mom’s, either. Part of me hoped I’d have the chance to give it back to you one day.”
My fingers stop, and I stare at her with my heart pounding in my ears. Maybe this was all in my head, and I was chasing the same dream I had as a kid. Back when I tried to coerce her into marrying me and having my baby, all in a futile attempt at piecing together a family to replace what I’d lost. Without realizing it, that’s what I just did again with this fucking house. I put her in a place where she felt pressured to tell me what I wanted to hear.
Noticing my spiraling, she slides a hand along my jaw, bringing me back to her.
“Hey, I don’t mean it that way. I mean…will you take this ring so you can give it back to me?” She slips the box into my open palm. “Denver, I want to know if you’ll marry me.”
Everything in my body turns to Jell-O—brain included. My unsteady fingers fumble frantically with the box, desperate to pry it open and give her back the ring before she changes her mind. I lift myself up so I’m on one knee, determined to do it right and make my proposal stick this time.
But she laughs, pulling me back down to sit in front of her. “It’s weird for you to be hovering above me.”
“Baby, I’m trying to give you the proposal you deserve.”
“So quit leaving me hanging—tell me you’ll marry me.”
“Bear, I’ve wanted to marry you since I was sixteen.” I pull the delicate gold band out, and the small diamond sparkles light beams across the empty wall. It slips onto her finger with ease, and she smiles up at me with tears dotting her lower lashes.
“And I promised you I would one day.”
Blair kisses me, melting her body into the cradle of my arms. The years of feeling broken and lost disappear with the soft touch of her lips. It’s always been us. In any lifetime, any universe. We were meant to end up here.
Blair
(two months later)
Denver walks around the side of the barn leading two horses, with the autumn sun on his back and a breeze toying with the hem of his shirt.
“Are you sure it’s safe to do this with your ankle?”
I roll my eyes with a smile. I have to admit, it’s nice having someone who worries about me. “Who’s the medical professional between us? Yes. I ditched the walking boot a full week ago. I’m fine.”
Stopping to tighten a cinch, he takes a quick glance at me over the top of the saddle. “Next question—are you sure you don’t want to drive? I don’t know if I trust you on horseback.”
