He stops, a pained look on his face.
"You're going to kill me, sweetheart," he says, his voice rough.
"I can't help it," I say on a moan. "I just want you so much."
He continues walking to me and takes my mouth in a rough kiss before pulling back and gently cleaning me up, his touch reverent, especially over my belly. When he's done, he helps me back into my sweatpants and sweater.
"Food's getting cold," he says, a small smile playing on his lips.
I laugh, a light, airy sound. "It was worth it."
After donning our clothes again, we eat standing at the counter, sharing cartons and feeding each other bites of lo mein and orange chicken between kisses. The easy intimacy of it feels more natural than anything I've ever known. The food is delicious, but it's the company I savor.
I tell him about my day, about the emails and the captions. And the amazing thing is that he actually listens. Sure, it's not the most exciting thing, but he cares, and that makes me love him even more.
"When we set up my office," I say, "I'll be out of your hair."
"I like you in my hair," he says. "In fact, I don't think I can live without you in my hair."
"Oh?" I laugh. "You might rethink that statement in about a week and regret me getting rid of my apartment so quickly."
"That would never happen," he says.
"Just you wait," I say, teasing.
He sets his carton down and wipes his mouth with a napkin, then looks at me, a serious expression on his face.
He takes my hand.
"Olivia," he says, and my heart starts to pound. "From the moment I met you, I knew you were different. You're stronger than anyone I've ever met. The things I put you through. The things you'vehad to deal with."
I shake my head. "Roberto, you didn't..."
I trail off when he presses two fingers to my lips.
"The night you came over, and we argued. You asked me to tell you one thing that's true," he says, his voice serious. "I couldn't do it because I didn't want to drag you down with me."
"Just forget about that now. It's over," I say gently.
Still holding my hand, he gets down on one knee.
My breath catches in my throat.
The room starts to spin, and I have to grip his hand tighter to steady myself. He's pulling a small, black velvet box from his pocket, and the world narrows to just the two of us, the half-eaten cartons of food forgotten.
"Olivia, from the first day you've challenged me, you've supported me. You've given me more than I ever thought I’d deserve again. You made me a better man, and I love you more than I ever thought I’d be capable of again."
He opens the box, and inside is the most stunning ring I've ever seen. It's a vintage-style emerald-cut diamond, flanked by two smaller sapphire baguettes on a delicate platinum band. It's elegant, it's timeless, and it's so him.
"The one thing I wanted to tell you that’s true? That I was dead, and you brought me back to life," he says, his voice thick.
Emotion clogs my throat, and tears fill my eyes. I wipe them away, wanting this moment to be clear, not wanting to miss a thing.
He takes a deep breath.
"Marry me, Olivia. Be mine. Always."
A laugh hiccups out of me as big, fat tears roll down my cheeks.
