“Then what?”
“Spiders, mostly. Also clowns. Have you seenIt? Deeply unsettling.”
A laugh bubbled out of me, unexpected and slightly hysterical. “Owen.”
“What? I’m trying to lighten the mood.” He pressed a kiss to my temple. “Is it working?”
“A little.”
“Good.” His eyes found mine in the mirror again, and all the teasing drained away, leaving something raw and real. “I love you, Harlow Cruz.”
My heart stuttered. “What?”
“I love you.” He said it like it was simple and obvious.
“Owen...”
“I know what I want.” His reflection held my gaze, unflinching. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to wake up next to you every morning and fall asleep with you every night. I want to make you breakfast, watch terrible movies, and argue about whose turn it is to do the dishes. I want all of it. Every mundane, boring, beautiful moment.”
Tears were pricking at my eyes now, blurring our reflection. “That’s very romantic.”
He shrugged. “I have my moments.”
I turned in his arms, facing him. His hands came up to cup my face, thumbs brushing away the tears that escaped.
“I think we should fly to Vegas and get married,” he said.
I blinked. “What?”
“Vegas. Marriage. This weekend.”
“You’re joking.”
“I’m completely serious.”
I shook my head, a disbelieving laugh escaping. “You can’t just... You’re being insane.”
“Probably.” His grin was crooked, self-aware. “But I’m also being honest. I want to marry you. Regardless of what that test says, I know you’re my forever. I don’t need a fancy proposal or a long engagement or any of that. I just need you.”
“People usually have an engagement ring when they propose,” I pointed out, still trying to process the fact that this conversation was actually happening.
His smile widened. “Have you met us? We’re not exactly traditional.”
“You’re making rash decisions again.”
“There’s nothing rash about this.” His thumbs continued their gentle path across my cheekbones. “I’ve known you foryears, Har. I’ve seen you at your best and your worst. I know how you take your coffee and what movies make you cry and the exact face you make when you’re pretending to be annoyed, but you’re actually trying not to laugh. There is nothing irrational about knowing you’re my person.”
“But I also understand,” he continued, softer now, “if you’re not ready. If you want the proposal, the big wedding, and all of that. I understand if you’re not sure about me yet…”
“I’m sure.” And I was. I loved Owen, and I knew he was my forever.
Owen went still. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I reached up, covering his hands with mine, where they still cradled my face. “I’ve been sure about you for years. I’ve just been waiting for you to catch up.”
His laugh was a mixture of surprise and delight. “Ouch.”
“You deserved that.”
