“Like this.” He reached across the table and took my hand, firmer this time. His thumb brushed across my knuckles, “Someone who’ll give you what you want instead of what everyone thinks you should have.”
I couldn’t breathe. “And what do I want?”
“You tell me.” His eyes were locked on mine. “What’s really on that list, Claudette? The things you’re too scared to say out loud?”
The words came out before I could stop them. “You.”
The single word hung between us.
Michael’s hand tightened on mine. “What?”
“You’re on the list. You’ve always been on the list.” My voice was shaking but I couldn’t stop now. “I want you.”
I couldn’t believe I said that. It was like all self control magically vanished and I was suddenly a different person. It might have been the high of being here, of escaping the way I did. It might have been the surprise of seeinghimhere. It was everything this night represented.
He was completely still. Then he stood up, pulling me with him.
“Come with me,” he said.
“Where?”
“You’ll see.” He was already moving, hand firm around mine. “Do you trust me?”
Did I trust him? I did, with everything in me.
We ended up outside on the Strip, and Michael was walking with purpose now. Like he knew exactly where we were going.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“You said you wanted reckless,” he said without slowing down.
“So you’re taking me somewhere… to be… reckless.”
“Something like that.”
We passed three casinos, two hotels, and a group of drunk bachelorettes before he stopped in front of a small chapel. White flowers in the windows, soft lighting inside, a sign that read “Open 24 Hours—Walk-Ins Welcome.”
My heart stopped.
“Michael—”
“Listen to me.” He turned to face me, both hands finding my waist. “You have a bucket list. Things you want to do before you run out of time to do them.” He stepped closer, close enough that I had to look up to meet his eyes.
I couldn’t breathe. My only focus was on his hands on my waist and the way he was looking at me.
“So here’s what I’m proposing.” His mouth curved into something wicked. “Literally proposing. Marry me.”
“What?!” My voice came out high with shock when Michael dropped to one knee.
“Marry me. Right now. Tonight.” He looked up at me. “You want reckless? You want to tick something off that list? This is it.”
My brain felt fried. Marriage. He was talking about marriage. To me.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. I was supposed to confess my feelings, get rejected, fly home heartbroken but at least honest. I wasn’t supposed to be standing in front of a Vegas chapel with Michael Ashford asking me to marry him.
“You’re insane,” I managed.
“Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe I’ve spent two years watching you and falling in love with you. And I’m done with it. And you’re right. We don’t have forever, so just give me this.”
