Daisy sits on the floor, coloring with ferocious focus, tongue caught between her teeth. She’s wearing one of her daisy dresses even though I told her three times it’s not really weather-appropriate.
“It’s fine,” she said seriously. “I’m comfortable.”
That’s become her favorite word lately.
Brendon is in the kitchen, moving around like he’s always been there. Like this isn’t still new enough to make my chest ache if I think about it too long. He hums quietly while he loads the dishwasher, stacking plates with deliberate care, like he understands that domestic moments count just as much as the big ones.
This is what staying looks like.
“Abby,” he calls. “Can you come here for a second?”
I glance down at Daisy. “Eyes on your coloring.”
“I am,” she says, offended. “I’m multitasking.”
I smile and step into the kitchen.
Brendon turns to face me, his expression softer than usual, more careful. My pulse ticks up instinctively.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he says quickly. “I just… wanted to do this right.”
That should probably scare me.
It doesn’t.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box. Not flashy. Not dramatic. Just simple, steady, unmistakable.
My breath leaves me all at once.
“Brendon,” I whisper.
“I’m not going to make a speech,” he says gently. “You already know how I feel. And I don’t want promises to sound like performances.”
He opens the box.
The ring is perfect—not because it’s extravagant, but because it’s thoughtful. Clean lines. Solid. Like something meant to be worn every day, not just admired.
“I love you,” he says quietly. “I’ve loved you since we were kids who thought love was enough on its own. Now I know better. Love is a choice you keep making.”
My eyes burn.
“I want to make that choice with you,” he continues. “If you’ll let me. If you still want me here.”
I don’t hesitate.
“Yes,” I say, the word steady and certain. “Yes.”
He slides the ring onto my finger with reverence, like this moment deserves to be handled carefully. I laugh and cry at the same time, pulling him into me, my arms tight around his neck.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I murmur into his shoulder.
“I know,” he says. “That’s why this works.”
A small voice clears her throat dramatically behind us.
“Um,” Daisy says. “Do you have something to tell me?”
