“I thought for sure you’d bolt the moment I appeared,” Enzo admitted in a voice barely above a whisper. “Was this enough of a spectacle for you?”
Seven blinked rapidly, trying to stave off another wave of tears. His chest ached with the effort of holding too much joy in too small a space. “Yes. Five stars. I can’t believe you did all this…but how?”
“Where there’s a will…” Enzo said softly.
Seven smirked. “So, you wrote a check?”
“Actually, no. Thomas helped me get the name of the right person. Once I told them who you were, they were fully on board. They know this is the kind of PR that money can’t buy.”
Seven nodded, burying his face against the bit of skin available at Enzo’s neck, inhaling deeply, letting his scent smooth all his jagged edges. The world shrank to the faint rasp of Enzo’s stubble against his temple.
Enzo huffed, a small sound that told Seven his heart was pounding, too. Up close, he smelled like tobacco and vanilla mixed with something boozy—the familiar aroma of the expensive cologne that had soaked into Seven’s DNA. The same one he sought when he was on the edge. The one that always guaranteed safety.
“Felix lied to me,” Seven said into the warm place where Enzo’s neck met his shoulder. “For days. He said he’d sold his soul for these seats.”
“It’s not like he could tell the truth,” Enzo retorted.
Seven pulled back, still trying to process everything. “So, you did this.”
“I did.” No apology, only the settled look of a man who had decided a thing and changed the world to accommodate it. “I asked our families to come. I asked Felix to handle the wardrobe because you would forgive him for lying to you faster than you’d forgive me for making you receive my proposal wearing cheap plastic armor.”
“Accurate,” Seven admitted. “He even sewed in snack pockets.”
Enzo’s surprised laugh echoed throughout the space. “We spared no expense.”
“Did you buy the whole show?”
“No.” Enzo’s mouth tilted. “But I would have.”
The laugh that bubbled out of Seven was beyond his control as reality started to crash in on him on all sides. “That was really…public.”
“Luckily, the stage isn’t much different than the courtroom,” Enzo mused.
“You were absurdly great.” Seven beamed with pride. “I’ll be insufferable about it for the rest of our lives.”
“Good.” Enzo’s eyes darkened. “But that isn’t why I did it.”
“Then why?”
“Because it feels like you’ve waited a long time for someone to choose you out loud,” Enzo answered. “I wanted—just once—to say it so loud that you had no choice but to believe it.”
Seven couldn’t answer right away. His throat closed, his pulse thrumming erratically under Enzo’s fingers. The air felt thick enough to drink, and his lungs didn’t know what to do with it.
“Believe what?” he finally managed.
Enzo cupped his face. “That I’llalwayschoose you. No matter what. It’s you and me.”
“Stop,” Seven whispered, tears threatening for the thousandth time. His laugh broke into a sob. “Jesus, your romance game is lethal. I’m gonna need you to wield this power carefully. Turns out, I’m kind of a marshmallow.”
Enzo laughed softly. “You just bring it out in me. I like spoiling you. You’re shockingly easy to love.”
“You’re the only person who thinks so,” Seven promised him.
“You know that’s not true,” Enzo said. “My mom hand-picked you for me five minutes after you met. There are three dozen people out there, who showed up more for you than me. I was coached, coaxed, and outright threatened over this proposal. No fewer than three people gave me the shovel talk tonight alone. Both our moms said they would end my life if I fucked this up.”
“You’re lying.”
Enzo shook his head. “You know I’m not. Your father isn’t everybody. He’s just the loudest voice in your head, that’s all. But you have a literal army of people who love you, and their love is louder than his hate.”
