“So yes,” he says, voice breaking, “I’ll marry you, Alexander. Please—make me your husband.”
“Fuck, baby…” My voice cracks apart.
I pull him into a deep, desperate kiss. The kind that holds every unspoken word, every heartbeat, every ounce of love I’ve ever felt for him. I kiss him like he’s air, like he’s the only thing keeping me alive.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathless — smiling against each other’s lips, foreheads pressed together.
I slip the ring onto his finger, and it fits perfectly. He stares down at it, eyes wide and shining.
“It’s so pretty,” he whispers, flexing his fingers. “Oh my God, Alex… this feels unreal. What the fuck. I’m engaged.”
He laughs through his tears, looking around the open space, and the way his face glows makes the entire house feel alive.
“This is ours,” he says softly, almost like he’s reassuring himself.
“Yes,” I say with an assuring smile. “But more importantly, it’s yours. You get to make it your home, the way you want it. That’s why it’s not even furnished.”
He blinks at me, confused. “I mean… It’s your home too.”
I kiss the tip of his nose, thumb brushing his cheek.
“You’re my home, Lucas,” I say, voice low and sure. “Nothing matters more to me than you. Yes, this house is for us,for our family, our future, but you’re the one who’ll make it a home. You can decorate it however you want, build it however you dream. As long as you’re happy, it’s perfect.”
He studies me for a moment, eyes soft and glistening.
“When you say ‘start a family’…” he begins, hesitantly, “do you mean kids?”
I nod. “I know you love them. I know you’ve always wanted that someday.”
He nods too, tears threatening again.
“I do. I really do. But… what about you?”
I take his fingers and kiss them gently.
“As long as it’s with you,” I whisper, “I want that too.”
He lets out a shaky breath, his eyes softening like morning light.
“You’re so perfect you don’t even feel real,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing his head against my chest. I hold him tighter, my hand resting over the back of his neck—because he still needs to feel that I’m real, that I’m here, that I’ll always be here.
“Are we getting married right away?” he asks after a moment, tilting his head up, a playful glint flashing through his teary eyes. The question makes me laugh.
“No, baby,” I say, my voice low and warm. “You still have a year left in school. We’ll get married after you graduate. That way, you’ll have time to make this place feel like a home. Our home.”
He looks around again, eyes wide with wonder.
“The house is so big… and beautiful,” he says, voice filled with awe. “I need to go check out the other rooms.”
“Go on,” I tell him encouragingly.
I watch him move through the house—his hand trailing along the railings, his laughter echoing faintly off the empty walls. He opens doors, peeks into corners, and exclaims overthe high ceilings and the huge space meant to be the primary bedroom. Then he runs back outside, his hair bouncing as he spins slowly on the driveway, gazing at the exterior of the house like he still can’t believe it’s real.
When he turns to me again, there’s pure joy on his face. It’s bright, unguarded, alive.
“Hell, Alex,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around my neck, looking up at me with that bright, heart-stealing smile.
“I can never predict your surprises.”
