Tomorrow. I'll ask her tomorrow.
***
Morning light filters through her curtains.
Bailey is still asleep, her face peaceful in a way I don’t think she’s been in months. My hand rests on her stomach, and I feel it—a tiny flutter against my palm.
The baby. Moving. Real.
"Bailey?" I say softly.
She stirs. Opens her eyes. "Hi."
"Hi. I need to ask you something."
I reach into my jacket on the floor. Pull out the small velvet box I've been carrying for two weeks.
Her eyes widen.
"I know it's fast," I say, opening the box. "Maybe too fast. But now I know I've loved you since the night at the bar. Before I even knew your name."
The ring catches the morning light—my mother's ring, the one thing I kept from the fire.
"I almost lost you because I was too scared to trust what we had. I won't make that mistake again."
Bailey sits up, tears starting to form.
"This ring was my mother's. She loved my father even though he hurt her. I want it to mean something different. Choosing love over fear. Breaking the cycle my father started."
I take her hand.
"Marry me. Not because of the baby. Because of us. I want to spend my life showing you every day that you made the right choice trusting me."
"Yes." The word comes out choked. "Yes, of course yes."
My hands shake as I slide the ring onto her finger. It fits perfectly.
She launches herself into my arms, and we're both crying and laughing.
"We should call Gretchen," she says.
"And Trevor."
She grabs her phone, puts Gretchen on speaker.
"I have news," Bailey says.
"You're back together." Gretchen sounds smug.
"How did you—"
"I'm psychic. Also Daniel's been mooning over you for months. What's the news?"
"We're engaged."
Gretchen's scream is so loud we have to hold the phone away from our ears.
After she calms down, Bailey hangs up and hands me the phone. "Your turn."
