We curl together under the blanket, her head resting over my heart, Seattle’s skyline blinking below us.
And for the first time in my life, I don’t feel restless.I don’t feel like there’s somewhere else I’m supposed to be.
I have everything I need right here in my arms.
My woman.
My future.
My home.
In the shelter of blankets and each other, with Seattle's lights spread below us like earthbound stars, we lie together watching the party continue below, our absence apparently unnoticed—or diplomatically ignored—by our guests.
"What do you think the final hashtag will be?"Karina asks.
"Hmm?"
"Once we're married," she clarifies."What will Alana and the internet decide is our ultimate hashtag?"
I consider this with mock seriousness."#KiltedHusband?#AuthenticEverAfter?#PermanentMerger?"
She laughs, the sound vibrating against my skin."#GrapesAndThistles," she suggests."Armenian pomegranates and Scottish thistles."
"Perfect," I murmur, pulling her closer."Though I'm not entirely convinced we'll ever escape #KiltedCasanova."
"It does have staying power.Though perhaps Alana will rename your CEO profile to 'Formerly Known As #KiltedCasanova.'"
"I think I prefer my new title," I tell her, lifting her hand to kiss her ring finger.
She grins.“CEO is still your title.”
"I meant 'fiancé.Soon to be upgraded to 'husband.'"
"Much better than 'viral sensation,'" she agrees, settling more comfortably against me."Though we'll probably always be that too."
"As long as we're together," I say, finding I truly mean it, "the internet can call me whatever it likes."
Below us, the Halloween party continues in full swing.
Somewhere, Fiona is undoubtedly already planning our wedding with Nadine.Connor is probably drafting a best man speech.Alana is almost certainly crafting the perfect engagement announcement hashtag.
But here, in this moment, there's just us.
Authentic, imperfect…and finally exactly where we belong.
