Aven’s eyes widened, her lips parting in surprise. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about being done with half lives,” I said, taking another step toward her. “I’m talking about how I’ve spent years building a life that was perfect on paper but feels empty every time I walk into a home that’s too quiet, too organized, too … not you.”
The first drops of rain began to fall, fat and sporadic, landing on her shoulders and my outstretched hand still clutching her keys.
“Langston, you can’t just?—”
I interrupted, my confession bursting from me like water through a cracked dam. “I hired a PI when you were in South America, not to spy on you, to ensure you were safe, to have some confirmation you were alive, and well, when the postcards to Raina stopped coming,” I added quickly, seeing her expression darken.
Her hand flew to her mouth. “You what?”
“I understand how it sounds, but Raina was concerned when you stopped communicating. I couldn’t sit here knowing you were out there, possibly hurt or afraid, and do nothing. I made sure someone checked in. Discreetly to confirm you were okay.” I ran a hand over my face, rain now falling steadily, dampening my beard.
“You had no right,” she said, but there was less heat in it than I expected.
I stepped closer still, close enough to see raindrops clinging to her eyelashes like tears. “I know it crossed a line, but you know what’s really fucked up? I’ve kept every postcard you sent Raina in a box in my desk drawer. Your sister thought I was crazy when she brought them to me and let me read about your adventures, your life without me.”
Thunder rumbled in the distance, a physical manifestation of the tension crackling between us. Aven’s hair was getting wet, her curls darkening as rain plastered strands to her forehead and cheeks. Neither of us moved to find shelter.
“Why would you do that? Why would you care what I was doing after all this time?” she asked, vulnerability breaking through her anger.
“Because I’ve compared every woman I’ve ever met to the girl who loved me enough to lie for me. Because I’ve spent fifteen years trying to become someone worthy of you, only to realize the man I became is still hopelessly in love with the woman you are.” The truth tumbled out.
My voice cracked on the last words, emotion breaking through the controlled facade I’d maintained for so long. Rain streamed down my face, indistinguishable from the tears I might have shed if I were a different kind of man.
“I let you go once because I thought you deserved better than what I could offer, but I’m not that boy anymore, Aven. I’m a man who knows what he wants. And I want you. In my home, in my life, in every future I can imagine.” I closed the last distance between us, handing her keys back.
She took the keys. “That doesn’t explain the ‘marrying me’ part. Where the hell did that come from?”
Something shifted in me, my confident businessman facade cracking enough to reveal the vulnerability beneath. “Maybe I’mtired of waiting for the right moment. Maybe watching you walk out this morning, knowing you were coming here, made me realize I might lose you again.”
“Langston, you can’t just announce we’re getting married in the middle of a business meeting!”
“Why not? Fifteen years, Aven. I spent fifteen years building myself into someone worthy of you, and then you walked back into my life and upended everything. Again. I’m not waiting another fifteen years to tell you how I feel.”
“And how exactly do you feel?” Aven challenged.
I reached out, one hand cupping her cheek with a gentleness that contrasted with the intensity in her eyes. “Like I’ve been holding my breath since the day you got on the bus, and I finally started breathing again the moment you walked into my office. I’m not saying we have to get married tomorrow. I’m saying I want you in my life, both professionally and personally… permanently. And I’m done pretending otherwise,” I continued, brushing her cheekbone with my thumb.
Aven stared at me, unable to form words.
“Say something, Trouble.” The old nickname sent warmth spreading through my chest.
“Langston, this is all happening so fast?—”
“It’s fifteen years overdue, so is this,” I said, reaching inside my jacket pocket. My fingers closed around the small velvet box. I’d gotten it this morning, after I saw the email from Torres and realized I might lose her again.
Her breath caught as I pulled out the box, rainwater immediately darkening the midnight blue velvet. I didn’t kneel. This wasn’t that kind of moment, wasn’t that kind of relationship. Instead, I held it between us, a physical manifestation of everything I’d been too afraid to say.
“I will marry you, Aven Compton, if it’s the last thing I do. I’ll marry you and spend the rest of my life proving the man I’vebecome is worthy of the woman you’ve always been,” I said, rain now falling in sheets around us, soaking through my suit, her blouse, plastering both our clothes to our skin.
Her eyes filled with tears mixed with raindrops as they spilled down her cheeks. “Yes, yes, Langston.” Aven’s words were nearly lost in the storm but unmistakable in the way her body swayed toward mine.
My eyes widened in surprise. “You’re saying yes? Just like that?”
A small, watery laugh escaped her. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“I wasn’t asking. I didn’t want the possibility of ever being told no. Not by you. Not again,” I admitted, a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.
