“Jesus,” I murmur, shaking my head. “Had a whole speech planned. Thought I’d sound real fuckin’ profound.”
“You always do,” she says softly, eyes glued to the ring.
I snort. “Yeah, well… not today, apparently.”
I look up at her then, at this amazing woman. My woman.
“I’m not a good man,” I say plainly. “Never pretended to be. I’ve done shit I can’t take back, and I’m gonna keep doing things that’d make most people run the other way.”
Her eyes lift to mine, but she doesn’t step back, doesn’t flinch.
“But with you?” I continue, my voice roughening. “I wanna be better. Just… better than I was yesterday.” The wind rustles through the trees behind us, the lake lapping quietly at the shore. Everything else fades out. “I don’t ever wanna go another day without knowing you’re mine in every way that matters.”
A tear slips down her cheek, and I reach out, brushing it away with my thumb.
“I already told you what I want,” I say. “A life with you. A home. A family. All of it.” My jaw tightens slightly. “But I want you to choose it too. Not because I said so. Not because other people tell you to. Because you want me.”
Her lower lip trembles.
“Jenson…” she breathes, one of the few times she’s ever used my government name. Fuck, I like hearing it from her mouth almost as much as I like hearing her call me Daddy.
I take a steadying breath.
“Marry me, Sasha,” I say, holding her gaze. “You’re already my old lady. Now, be my wife. My everything.”
Silence stretches between us for half a heartbeat… then she nods.
“Yes,” she says, voice breaking. “Yes. Of course, yes.”
Relief hits me like a fucking freight train, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. A rough laugh punches out of my chest as I slide the ring onto her finger. It fits perfectly.
“Shit,” I mutter. “Good. Would’ve been real awkward if you said no.”
She laughs through her tears, throwing her arms around my neck as I stand, pulling her flush against me.
“You’re an idiot,” she whispers.
“Yeah,” I agree, pressing my forehead to hers. “But I’m your idiot.”
Her hand comes up between us, staring at the ring like it might disappear.
“I’m going to marry you,” she says, almost like she’s testing the words.
“You are,” I confirm, cupping the back of her neck. “Soon as that house is done, I’m putting a ring on you in front of God, the club, and anyone else who needs to see it.”
Her eyes shine up at me, and she looks happy, safe… mine. I kiss her then, slow, deep. When I pull back, we’re both a little breathless. I nod toward the saddlebag.
“Got champagne,” I tell her.
Her smile turns bright, teasing. “Wow. You really planned this.”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” I grumble, though there’s no heat in it.
She laughs, that sound settling deep in my chest like something permanent.
As I pull the bottle out, popping the cork with a sharp crack that echoes over the lake, I realize something I haven’t felt in a long damn time.
Peace. This is real peace.
And it’s standing right in front of me, wearing my ring.
